I am who I am
No one is gonna change me
I will do what I do best
No matter what society says
I will live, be free.
Sculpt a life and make you see
That I don’t give a shit about the names,
The labels and tags that I was called,
About the girls that I won’t get.
I will show them –
That I will get that girl,
The one of my dreams,
Not the one society classed as ‘my league’
I am who I am
And no one will ever change me…
Have you ever felt that feeling
Seen that dark creature hiding behind the corner
Who can just consume you, peeling away your skin
Filling you up on the inside
It gives you butterflies
All of a sudden you can’t think straight
Dates, numbers, facts all become mush in your mind
Simple tasks like catching a ball, placing a pass all become
This shadow cast over you
The creature around the corner
That devastating feeling is pressure
Just waiting to get you.
These days, the term Feminism is often confused with the action of “Man Hating”. Those who think that this is true have had their perspective changed by the people who complain about everything that men do, from the way that they act, to the way they behave, even when the hate isn’t necessarily there. Feminism stands for the equality of between genders, and if you believe it stands for anything else, you need to look up from the lies and hate, and look at the truth, and realize that this is here to make the world a better place, you just need to find the right perspective.
Do you ever feel like you don’t fit in
Like you don’t fit into society’s pictures
Like to be different is a sin
A sin which is punished like it was in the scriptures.
If you’ve ever felt like that
Or maybe you still do
Just know that you are not alone
So you should just be you.
I want to live freely, without restrictions. People always say you need to go to college, need to get this job, need to spend your life life in front of a screen with the only time for exercise is in a gym after work, on a machine engineered for optimum efficiency. The world is beginning to become a factory ,producing millions of graduates a year in order to keep it evolving. By 2050 over 90% of the worlds population will live in urban workhouses, no privacy, no freedom. Restricted in everything you do, how you walk, how you breath, the amount of water you use, a basic necessity… taken from you. Why can’t the world live life as we have evolved to live life, free without restriction or judgement ? Let us explore who we want to be and do not let others depict how we should live our lives, our lives not theirs.
It hits unexpectedly. It’s unknowing.
People like to say God created everything, and the hierarchy of the universe is the one dictated by the hand of a vengeful ruler.
But, what if this God is wrong. Is the mirage of a perfect creator one that was so “lax” as to be balancing on a pane of sugar-glass? And that one predetermined slip up dissolves the vision of a once great ruler to now the bastard who claimed my brothers life.
The one who allows me to wake up to the same quarter-empty house to a father who works 24/7 to pay for the meaningless commodities of a daughter who’s complex one true love has been redefined to being called “fat” or “slut” and cannot admit to her lazy cry for help, because she cannot accept that her baby brother has a better grip on reality than an undergraduate of Phsycology does.
My mother cries and hopes we don’t notice it, and she, a nurse out of work for 2 years because of a broken leg, and the fact she cannot hope to face machines.
And I lay and toss to a sporadic, off-beat rhythm in bed, hearing the coarse anger of a brother’s piano, blues songs.
And I rage and hurt when I look to myself many years ago, a naive idiot who takes life for granted, to a year ago when I ignored my brothers hug because my cat died and I couldn’t allow him to see me upset over it.
Only to find him, eyes white, green slime, on his side… braindead.
I found him. I couldn’t comprehend it. My brother, seconds away shaking hands with the grim reaper.
I cried, I ran, I let my family do the hard work.
God doesn’t spare anyone, because God is a child trying to find amusement and we are his dolls in his doll house.
To this day, I regret not saying one last “good bye” or “I love you”, when my brother was relying on a machine to cling to life…. Only because I was afraid to let my family see me cry.
End of the Glass
There’s something peculiar about Saturday
Drinking every weekend gives new perspectives on
The big misconception about alcohol in
It’s not an escape it just magnifies your
If you’re happy it’s great, at parties you’ll be
But depression gives a new meaning to the end
of the glass.
Waiting for Food
I have it when you have to wait
for food. For dinner, for lunch
whatever. You ask for a snack, but
Mom’s comes up with “Dinner will be
ready in ten minutes.” You wait ten
minutes, go back to the kitchen to see
the chicken is only going in the oven. “Mom
it’s been an hour.” She just dismisses
you with the flick of a wrist,
you clench fist. This sucks.
We exist in a world where
you can but a knife at 16 yet
buy a substance that can kill you
slowly at 18.
We survive on a like, a
double tap on your Instagram
post, a heart underneath your
profile is supposed to show you
your future on social media.
1 like can be the difference
between a photo existing on Facebook
till the end of time.
We are shown that life is
a deadly concussion
of two people but whisper that
you are weird if you’re on your
own. They see independence as
an act of war. They say
follow your dreams
but keep you on a leash for the
journey. Most puzzles are
supposed to be solved, unless it is
about your sexuality, then it is
to stay a mystery.
The work is no fun
We play no games under the sun
Only Irish, Maths, English,
with the odd fun class
Constantly glued to an
When wanting to be a successful
Transition year is far from lit
Transition year is so shit.
This whole hatred crap in football
With loathing put in their minds since they were able to crawl
Is wrong and stupid and unacceptable
With Celtic and Rangers a perfect example.
I can write this poem as I have witnessed first-hand
The violence, the atrocities, the drunken fights
With blood everywhere like sand
On a sectarian beach with dim street lights.
This case is just in Scotland, where the nation is torn
Between Catholics and Protestants, Irish and British
Where nothing is being done, even though they have sworn
To cut this shit out, to make this blood-bath finish.
“If you had three wishes, what would they be?”
World peace, end to wars and of course the money
are the typical answers that you may receive
but mine would be for Sectarian violence to relieve.
“You Mun”, “You Proddy”, “ You Orange Bastard”
Shout the Catholics as they swarm the Brits
I won’t even mention the rest of the curses
As if this poem could get any worse.
Words are sorer than walls:
When I ran into the wall it hurt.
I even lost three teeth and had bruising on
my face. But I dented the wall.
What I got called for running into that wall
hurt far more. Getting called toothless and
an eejit hurt
far more than the wall.
Now all I do is wear my fake smile
and try to forget it all.
Yes You Can
He stood there in his white shorts and green
jersey, hands dangling, tears flowing
Hoping to go on the field and prove
He was good.
Parents said you can’t do it, you
won’t make it, you’re too small, too skinny, weak.
That day he did not make an impact,
by the voices in his head breaking him
down at the final whistle, his dreams seemed
hopeless. He had to change, stand out, and follow
“People who say they can, and people who
say they can’t are both usually right”
The stage was set
Little did I know
This would be something I’d never forget.
The events would unfold
And I’d be there – all alone
Knowing if I got hurt
There would be no ambulance to place.
Sitting there tightly clutching the fiddle
The spotlight shinning down
If I made a mistake, even something little
The audience would think I’m a clown.
Sweat was pouring down my face
Desperately trying to hit the right note
Hoping the audience wouldn’t think I’m
I was playing so fast that
it started to hurt
Putting everything I had into it
Trying much harder than I did with my schoolwork.
Before I knew it, it was all over
Tension in the air
Expecting a chorus of boos
And possibly an apple or an orange to land in my hair
Before I received a rapturous applause!
From Door to Door
I walk down the street
From door to door
Knocking to see
But never was I told of
The people to ignore
These locked-up doors.
I go up to the first one
Being precious as diamonds
But all I get
Is complete silence.
But sometimes I get this feeling
During all this commotion
That I’m stuck on a boat
In the middle of the ocean.
But don’t listen to me
There is no need to fret
Listen to everyone else
Because they all have regrets.
So I continue to walk
Down this empty street
From door to door
Not feeling complete.
Luke Andrew Feeney
It is spreading like a
This addictive drug
They’re getting passed
around the hallway
Teens passing out thinking they’re
at Galway Bay
Kids doing lines of coke,
That ain’t no f**king joke,
That green thing weed
That’s all they need
At the parties I see it all
Then I feel shouldn’t I be
Doing it too?
When I was young
I was told to be myself
But myself just ain’t enough.
My visions clouded by society
Express myself no longer my priority.
Perfection is a goal that can never be achieved
Perfection is a myth that cannot even
All for nothing.
When people think of war it’s always
Syria and Iraq but they don’t see the one
that’s just over some craic.
These battles aren’t new they’re from 2002
Xbox, Playstation you use one of the two
There’s gonna be someone who will crucify you.
Minding your business on social media, uploading
a goal from your latest game of FIFA
Someone comes along and comments “you suck”
You ask why and he says “you use shit box”
Now all of a sudden you’re ranting in the comment box.
Half an hour passes then that person comes along and says “Huh console peasants. PC master race!”
What that person can do is take that sentence and shove it in their face.
To own, be and to process everything someone else wants, forcing you and others into a mental and social slavery without a voice, developing another personality to fit their model. It’s parents telling children they can’t be an astronaut it’s too hard, you’re going to be an accountant. It destroys imagination, dulls out colours. Governments telling people they’re the enemy, they’re the beasts as men kill in bad blood for no reason other than, I was told. It annihilates the truth and replaces it for a conjured falsity. It has no freedom, only dominion.
I don’t tend to write things like this.
“Inspiring” or cringy
I know I have it pretty good I’m not sat here whinging
Thinking, that life’s shit
Moaning and bitching, just stepping back a little bit, not going
I’m pretty fucking middle class
Not poor, sure not wealthy. I have two parents, 3 siblings that are happy and healthy and four grandparents whose goal is for me to be the best I can.
Almost no responsibility, just go to school and sit in classes and somewhat try
People my age are struggling on the streets to survive.
People right here in this building are dealing with their own addictions, parents on the borderline, trying their best to dodge eviction.
Things like these seem far away in a land of fiction, just take a step
Back, look around and see the bigger picture
Rite of Passage
I don’t really remember
But when I was young
(much younger than now)
I used to hate going to school.
I can’t play sports
And when you’re fine
That’s pretty much the terminal condition.
So I forget, lashed out
Stayed inside alone
And I read and I read and I read.
My Parents would say
“It’ll get better later”
“When sports start to matter less”
So I read and I read and I waited.
When we reached twelve
Went to secondary school
I found that sports mattered less
Than a brain and a voice
And the ability to use them.
My parents had said
“It’ll get better later”
And for some strange reason
When the bus is late
You’re afraid you’ll arrive to see MacEoin and get hate,
Then you find out that he’s gone
There’s a poetry workshop on?
Poetry no-one likes you
Until Stephen showed me I do
The workshop’s the funniest thing ever
Will it happen again? I’d say never.
We’re all poets
We just don’t know it.
On my 7 birthday, my parents got me a Nintendo DS Lite with my first game, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Blue Rescue Team. That’s when my longest-lasting hobby began. Within a week, I had completed that game and I scoured the shops looking for a new game. I found a new game and my face lit up like a Christmas tree. From then on, I bought every Pokemon game I saw being advertised on TV. I mowed lawns and I worked with my Dad to save enough money. I worked for 6 years, since I was 10. I also obtained many movies, books, magazines, cards and posters of Pokemon. I know all there is to know about Pokemon. There was 150 Pokemon in 1995. In 2016, there are 726 Pokemon, and I know them all. Name any of the 726 Pokemon and I’ll tell you everything about it. I’m told that I’m too old for this. I like to think I’ll never be too old for Pokemon.
Da name is Luke O’Brien
I be spittin’ rhymes
I’m like fire on crack
Just set the beat and watch me RAP
Irish-born first of my king a young new
Rapper talking about hard times.
None of the history Crap
We need to forget about that
I’m chatting about mental illness please see
It’s tearing our lives apart
We need to address
With open hearts
Help those who need it.
Society is becoming a self-contradiction
Where your worth is no more
Than a number.
Achieved in a state of virtual slumber
Staring at a screen
Letting your life be seen
Making it out as a dream
For fear of being judged.
But the reality is that this judgment,
This virtual ride
Is quickly creating a vast social divide
Killing off pride as you feel like you’ve died, like
You wanna run away and hide
Because you, your life, your very existence has been voted,
decided, seen as inadequate, unworthy of a like.
And this is how we “relax”
We use this pressure to
Escape the pressure of life
Part of school and sport is to
Finding your identity
Discovering who you’re meant to be.
There is a spark
a light the moment we are born
a fire the moment our life starts
that will never be part of the norm.
And yet it must be
a fire that has a way it must burn
at least according to society.
For then it will be of no concern.
But what about those who’s fires burn differently?
A little brighter or dimmer than others
A fire that could be heaven sent
But is extinguished with verbal water.
Just know that those fires are never gone away
They are merely made smaller and hotter.
So small that you can’t feel it anyway.
And society throws the smoke in the gutter.
Unless you can find that flame.
That little spark of you.
And burn the water away
So it can flare up anew.
Then your spark can grow
brighter or dimmer, bluer or whiter than ever before.
And all the world will know Your flame will burn its own way forever more.
Looked down on by society for whatever reason
If you’re caught mining for them it counts as treason
They are sticky and come in all shapes and sizes
When they come out of your nose it’s like you won prizes.
They grow inside you to protect you from germs
They battle never ends until a finger interferes
They are eaten by some but not many
Some even give them names like George or Benny.
They’ll always be there despite your age.
Boogers are the untold heroes held in your nose cage
I hate that there is a stereotype of what you have to be. You have to be thin, smart, considered weird, play sports or else you aren’t right or considered a man. I am not thin, smart to a degree, I’m not weird, I don’t plat sports. If people took 5 minutes to stop and actually talk to me, they might like me. Assholes just want to be funny and the main person in the Year. Fuck all that. You can’t be yourself unless you are the stereotypical guy. People say you can be but that is shit. You can’t fancy the popular girl because you’re considered “not popular” by the main people in the school. Society is shit. They expect you to like them then. I think they are assholes who think they are number 1. Maybe shit the hell up and actually be a nice, genuine person. It’s not that hard.
I feel like everyone is a clone
They’ve all got brains but too scared to use their own.
The same music in your ears
While you’re out drinking beers
But to me that just doesn’t appeal.
You see me and I’m here but you don’t know how I feel
And I hate writing this sad shit
So let’s all cheer up a bit.
Cause life’s a better place when you promote peace and love
I don’t see the point in turning to drugs.
But do what makes you happy,
Personally I’d rather buy a pug
But if you’d rather buy some gangster leaf,
Then go ahead we won’t have no beef.
Pens and paper, strained wrists and sore fingers
The world moves on, yet tradition lingers
“Kids better learn their maths, they won’t always have a calculator”
Sticking to the rules comes first and innovation comes later
I will never be taught how to pay a tax or raise a family
But all kinds of things about the human anatomy
Never how to deal with depression or anxiety
But about the Irish language and ancient society
You want to know how to save those who live on a dime?
Well first tell me if the number of them is prime
The important things in life cannot be read on a page
So can we please drop the system of a bygone age.
I wonder how people starve to death,
When God bless the land that lacks the harvest
The stones equality but they homes are poverty and the whole world ignores the poverty,
Bill Gates is so high in the money but 1 in 5 live off a dollar a day so how can we complain about what we want for dinner when some birds don’t get dinner
Live your life like you want to because some people don’t have a choice.
Break times set in stone
Hustle in lines like inmate
Each one like the other,
Same clothes just different mother
One big punishment cast among all, boxed into tiny rooms this is our downfall
Ideas are unspoken for fear of being called absurd
But noted we’re to study things that make us stereotypical nerd
Is this prison
Nah fam just school.
From a broken home
Should come a broken child.
Which I was for a while
Until I was told it was my time
I’m chasing my dream one step at a time
On my way to the top
I’m a train that can’t stop
I was told that I can’t
But I know that I can
I’m climbing a mountain
The summit is high
But I know I can do it
And I’m not stopping now
Life is a gift so make the most
So many told me how I can’t
But I can’t I’m a dream chaser
Just believe that you can.
Struggles and Frustration
Being a teenager is tough
When times get rough
Freedom of expression to thoughts of depression
Social media to Wikipedia
We got through the recession
People looking at you strange
Asking for your change
It’s about time things change.
Name calling is appalling
And the fact of the matter is, is that the twats that do it are just kids.
Trying to look cool and acting like a tool
You’re just a fool
So don’t go cry when karma catches you by the tie
Cause all that judging and name calling you did
Won’t pay off when you’re asking me for a job
Cause by then I’ll know that you were a knob
The Kick of the Ball
From the kick of the ball
You’re running fast, strong and tall.
You hit that first tackle
Feel like you’ve broken that shackle.
Get the ball break out in a run
Like a bullet shot from a gun.
The team is calling your name
Try not to drop the ball in fear of shame
You got away from all the hate
Scored the try, now I feel great.
I get criticised for who I am and encouraged to become someone else
Encouraged to become who the critic thinks he is
Who he wants to be.
I’m not bullied or picked on because I do have belief in myself
I can see that he doesn’t know who he is
Fear of being judged
Not getting enough attention
Afraid of being forgotten.
He reeks of desperation to be heard by me
By his sheep-like followers
Perhaps his parents aren’t behind him or feels like he can already see his eventual failure or lack of success in life like a car crash waiting to happen.
But I don’t mind
Well, I do.
I’m not bullet proof but I can see who I am
I know I have talents and failures and beauty just like everyone else.
I know I will succeed to my capabilities
I know that I will not be left behind.
The Meaning of Life
The meaning of life
Without them we have nothing.
I don’t expect everyone to understand
Understand what its like to be a man …. With severe problems
Cause the people that tell you that othr people have it harder
Are the same people that tell you that there’s always someone better
I don’t expect everyone to understand
That a dark place is a terrible place in
A rich or poor persons mind
A black or white person’s mind
A gay or transgender person’s mind
I don’t expect everyone to understand
That someone that is in so much pain
That they want to end their life
That its not just a short term problem
But I do expect you to understand that you don’t have the right
The right to judge someone over any of these
A broken bone won’t set the tone
No one wants to be left alone
When you called that kid fat
Why didn’t you think that
Some people have it hard
Some people cant think straight
And when you call them dumb
Just think about whats going on at home
Some people take drugs to forget about it all
So don’t call them junkie and bash their head against the wall
The girl that is with everyone and you call loose
Is probably at home tying up that noose
Being homosexual is a bit of a chore
“Embrace who you are”, you’ve heard it all before
But believing in yourself , its not as easy as they say
Having to conceal who you are day after day
At the lads’ school, girls are always on their mind
But since you’re “in the closet” you cant cut the ties that bind
“I’d shift her, shes fit” they say , their voices full of glee
But all that you can do is just nod and agree
The message is repetitive “it gets better, its true”
The people at the better stage, they’re the people that I rue
But see that is then and this now, our situations aren’t the same
I can’t display who I am and its driving me insane
Don’t get me wrong, I have some friends that know
They’re really cool about it, they go with the flow
Then there’s the fellas that I haven’t told
Having to disguise myself is getting kinda old
That’s the end of my rant, I think I hit the point home
Just know you’re not the only one, the only one alone