dreaming in temple bar

I am happily lost here. Unknown and unfettered by all that weighs me down. Here within the Autumn evening I am leaf upon the Liffey, swirling within the laughter and smiles. She greets me with hugs that erase the tiredness of my day and imbued by confidence I kiss her cheek.

"That was brave."
"We're a brave race." I reply.
She looks at me and shakes her head.

Then she wraps my name within a wink and takes my hand. Willingly I am dragged into her world of singing and a thousand bottled spirits; perched upon shelves that only an angel could reach. After a meal and idle conversation she suggests that we leave the noise for the dying light and the gentle rain. Seventeen steps down the street she stops me. She looks at me but says nothing. Then she tilts her head and smiles, as if a question is finally answered.

"You're broken."
"I don't know how to answer that." I reply.
"Can anyone?"

She smiles and shrugs but gives no explanation. Then with a shake of her head and a laugh she starts to walk again. We talk about Ireland and England. We compare notes and wince over historic facts. Then she starts to talk to me in her native tongue. There is truth in these words even though I do not understand their meaning.

"I'm in love with a language that I will never understand." I tell her.
"And unluckily for you, broken Irish will always be smarter than clever English."

We start to walk again and knowing that I am lost in the maze of her words, I simply yield and let her stories and conversation wash over me. As we arrive at my hotel I anticipate stealing a kiss as we say goodnight. The rain has eased and the traffic seems to be emptying and surrendering to the night.

"I'll get you a taxi."
"Why?" she asks.

I look at her puzzled. Thinking that we're about to start another adventure. I instantly fear for my liver and wonder where I will find the energy.

"You're a little slow for an Englishman aren't you?
"I don't..." She cuts my words short with a loaded smile and another wink.

"The left side of the bed is always mine." she adds as she starts to walk into my hotel.

That night, for what had felt like an eternity, I fell asleep to the sound of a woman breathing on my left. I dreamed peacefully and untroubled; like I did when I was a boy. In the morning as we share buttered toast and tea I tell her that I feel fixed.

"You're lucky I knew what to do." she tells me.

I nod in agreement as my voice is now superfluous..... to even my existence.

the fair

hook the duck
with the faded beak
in the barrel of dirty water.
shoot the dented deer
shimeeing and shaking
in fear as you aim.
but these are not ways
to win hearts,
just goldfish
and large flammable
teddy bears,
that nobody really wants.

progress

a younger me
would demand to hear
from your lips
the words
I need
but this older me
really couldn't
give a fuck

the game

sometimes I wake too early.
so I lay there
in the dark.
watching my demons
raise the stakes,
as they play
for my heart.
I can not object.
I can not stop their bets.
so I just pull my mortgaged life
around me
and go back to sleep.

I'm that guy

I'm the one
they reach out to
when boyfriends beat them.
I'm the one
they reach out to
when employers abuse
and humiliate them.
I'm the one
they reach out to
when they are vulnerable
and alone.
I'm the one
they reach out to
when the pandemic hits
and their Friday night's die.


and I am the first one
they forget
when their lives restart.

women

I always see them coming.
walking towards me,
like slow purposeful bullets.
tipped with kryptonite lipstick.
I can't dodge.
I can't duck.
I just stand there
begging to get shot
and when it is all over.
I just lay there.
wrecked and smiling
whilst trying hard not
to give Munch
his scream.

words

words are not who I am
they carry my emotions
and sometimes craft
my deepest pain
but words are not who I am
yes they occasionally tear out
my sorrow
but they also throw my joy
into fluorescent smiles
but words are not who I am
they help me explain the moments
that I experience
as my heart
crashes through days
and people
that impact upon me
like tiny meteorites
upon a moon
but words are not who I am
they explain only a second
of this man's life
a man who chose to write about
the things that everyone else
hides inside

piece of cake

twenty one
days alone.

isolated.

detached from a world.

no human contact.

no touch.

no love.

I can do that

on my head.

blindfolded

and naked,

because

I've been doing

that for years.

letting go

I would have followed you
through a million hells.
but there comes a time
when waiting
becomes a prison
and when love
becomes a poison,
in you heart
and mind.
so I am giving up on you.
I'm letting you fall
where you fall
and shedding this weight
that I have carried for too long.
I have no regrets.
not one.
my choices were mine alone.
but in the end
you promised me nothing
and some promises
should be kept.

infatuation

you'd think
that seeing a knife
staring up from
between my ribs
would remind me
that infatuation hurts
like a mother fucker

nope