Why does music speak to us?
It’s because it connects to the truest part of us
The piece of us that has not yet been distorted and shaped by moulds of other people
Music is the only thing that can be truly yours
It can be yours in happiness, sickness or even depression.
Rhymes and Grimes
Getting up before 8
Going to be late
All I want to do is meet my mate
Constantly pressured to date
Frequently losing weight
Wondering how will I make it?
Can I just take a sick day?
Or maybe I’ll just fake it.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
God made me sexy
What happened to you.
Quiet is my page my head my soul
Waiting for some steps down my dark path
Waiting for a breath down my side
The warm embrace of her
The little flick on and back to reality
Lets take some photography of the geography
It’s so good, its like pornography
Writing my auto-biography
Making so much money
Life has a lot of all these ups and downs
It will built you right and then just flip it around
You will never ever know what you’ve got til it’s gone
Because the good things in life you think can never go wrong
It isn’t that you just take everything for granted
It’s that you don’t have to dream or even wish that you had it.
So if you ever have a bad day or just feel sick
Just remember that everything will change real quick.
A few things that annoys me about Ireland are the way they put down the younger generation and apply pressure which is way too unnecessary.
This pressure is applied to teenagers even though these people are going to be the people who are going to get this country of it’s current mess.
So if they keep putting these teenagers down than this country will never recover.
We go into society as whole fresh legs but by the end of school our teenage years we come out as a bi-product of this log like a plank a board or a piece of chipboard or a piece of firewood to burn in the furnace of the government. Although some of these logs escape the saw of society and these are the people we read about.
I’m an Irish man, leathered with Irish skin, beard orange as the sun sets. On the flag and the night’s sky we fired proud for the life we fight to live. History I fight for it spit it with a dialect and this is a celebration of course of the great white horse.
And when we pulled up on the shoe first generation born. toast to those who made it on a boat to New York. Then the English came they filled up bottles of gasoline and turned them into balls of flame and hurling to protect with socks lucky charms open to Irish screaming f**k the London Guard go against me Irish and get a bloody preaching of the violence
But remind us of those scars, challange us in football we might lose but don’t put next to a bar stool, we take our history and script in a poem like a torch when you pass it on.
We put are glass to the sky and lift up and live tonight because we can’t take it with ya so raise a point for the people that are with ya and live tonight because we can’t take it with ya.
Her hands are are tied with the lies she’s been given but why is she so eager to be forgiven.
Making her own crime by acting like a mime, words are so hard to get out when her honesty’s been torn apart, yet she always has a smile to mask her pains denial
Her arms are always itching if she’s not careful she’ll be needing stitching.
It’s not fair that such a beautiful girl is filled with so much despair, crying at night she’s always soaked making a mistake because she’s not even broke.
Failing to breath because of people’s greed, her hearts a dying flame but she’s not to blame, falling into the abyss when all she needs is an honest kiss
Her addiction it’s her affliction dying for just one more hit ‘oh she’s just acting the tit’ why’s she so eager for that needle ?
Floating on a cloud of ecstasy I guess that’s just her remedy, falling deeper and deeper into a hole that’s enough for an empty soul.
She’s hiding a fake smile to hide her high of lies soon she starts to cut guess some things aren’t enough.
Her hearts pumping slower could this girl get any lower? liver in bits lungs are dead can’t she live without the dread?
I saw Donald Trump the other day
He was coming out of a convenience store with a baking tray
He looked at me and said “Hey”
I replied and said “Nice toupee”
He took offence to this and threatened to use his powers
I threatened to steal his “small loan of a million dollars”
I was with a group of friends, he called us cowards
I threatened to go back to his house and sniff the white powders.
He became angry and then he said
“Listen you don’t want to test me and my street cred”
Your boy Tommy messed with me, now he’s dead
I have his body parts in a cooler in my shed.
He said he hated Tommy, he put him through some pain
We ran over to Trump to end his fame
We killed him and put an end to the
Heartless. Bastard’s. Reign
I’m nervous but on the surface
I eat spaghetti
Because my palms are sweaty
She’s nervous but on the surface
She cooks my spaghetti
Her palms are sweaty
Knees weak while making my spaghetti
I vomited on my sweater already
I don’t like Mom’s Spaghetti.
On the surface I look calm and ready
But I dropped Mom’s Spaghetti
After I vomited on my sweater already
My Mom is heavy
And makes awful spaghetti.
Arms are heavy
There’s vomit on my sweater already
This rap is mine
So don’t waste your time!
I’m writing this rap
Whilst I’m having a fap
When you look at 9/11
You think of all these people who went to heaven
But no! F**k Heaven.
When we fly that plane through that rain
All the power fucking into the tower
When you think of terrorism
Good or bad?
In fact, amazing making them towers go blazing
You may have been in pain and to get
Rid of that pain you get pissed in a bar
I didn’t miss the towers
The plane that caused you pain
That caused you to go into that bar
Whilst I’m shouting Allahu akbar!
There are lots of raps
There are good and there are bad
Rapping, it’s alright
It’s like expressing your feelings, your opinions and decisions
On a simple oral text.
Sometimes you keep some feelings, some opinions
Which you want to express
Rap it’s a good way
To be listened and to listen
To others and to you
Some people think it’s bad
Some people think it’s good
If you want to know
If you are right
You can compare your decisions and opinions
And you will see that everyone is f**ked.
Of all things in life, we do
The thing that makes our dreams come true
Is of course the best of all
The holy sport: the Great Football!
It makes us happy, it makes us sad
It makes us joyous, it makes us mad
Fans sing their songs, sing their chants
Goals make us excited, while penalties make us wet our pants.
With Boring nil-nils, exciting end-to-enders
Clubs with no money, and big, big spender
Some People think that the sport is dreary
To them I’d say – the word of Bill Shankly.
“Some people think football is matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s much more important than that”
I’ve always wanted to be good at some sports. When I was six, I started with football but something happened and I left my team.
Then came basketball, even though I wasn’t into it a lot, and the same thing happened.
For the last four years I was into surfing. I was reading books about it, training and going more often to the beach.
And right now in Ireland I’m into football again. But I feel that my laziness is going to let me do that again.
And I’m not happy with that. I want to be quite good at something and just feel good with myself for what I’ve done.
I have to do this and start it right now
If I want this.
I was around seven when I first asked a girl out; rejected. A few months later I asked a different girl out in hopes of a different outcome; rejection. Over and over, rejection after rejection, every attempt ended in failure.
By the time I was nine, I stopped trying. All of those moments where I got rejected toughened my broken heart in terms of emotion when it came to relationships.
By the time I was ten, I received my first nickname; “Monkey Arse”. In my head it was a good thing. I didn’t look like a monkey, but I climbed as good as one, still do to this day. I thought I finally achieved something in my crappy life, finally made a few friends, finally got some respect.
By the time I was eleven, I had received my first hit, right to the stomach. I was winded; this was the point I realised the good in some people. The only person who came to help me was the one person I didn’t like. We became good friends; that is until he moved back to Poland when I arrived in secondary school.
First and second year were tough times for me; bullying. I was weak, afraid and lonely, that was until ‘the incident’. I got into a fight with a lad in my year in first year. He had kicked me as hard as he could in the balls, thinking he had won. By God, he was wrong. I had gotten off the ground, fists clenched and eyes fixed on him. It was at this point that he knew he had made a mistake…
He started running away, around the school. I chased him down but my brother had asked a mate of his in second year to keep an eye on me. Before I could catch the one who hurt me, my brother’s mate caught me in front of the school, telling me to stop. I ignored him and pushed past him. Then he and his friends had restrained my arms so they thought it would stop me. It was then I realised how strong I really was. I dragged all of the second years towards the guy who hurt me. When I lost sight of him, I gave up.
I got into a fight later that year this time with the twins. I lost. But after I had fought them the strangest thing happened. To this day we are best friends. I finally had a group of friends I could call my own.
TY came along; that year changed my life. Just after the Junior Cert exams, my other friends tried to get me to shift someone. I refused, not because I didn’t want to, but because they wouldn’t leave us alone. After the summer holidays, I met her at a disco, we shared a moment there. A few days later, we started going out. I finally felt good about myself. My self-esteem became better until yesterday, after four months, she broke up with me. I felt like crap. I cried myself to sleep that night. In the morning, I told my mum, and when I went to school I told my soundest teacher. He helped me through it. Then I came into this class. That’s what cheered my up immensely, and got me over it. I went back to normal, low self-esteem, not much confidence and a happy lifestyle.
I like to complain. I complain about everything. No matter the subject, I will find a way to complain about it. I like to complain about complaining. Everything has a negative that I will use to fuel my need to complain. I don’t list the positives because the negatives overshadow them always. If something is bad; I’ll complain about it being too bad. If something is good; I’ll complain about it being too good. In the end, everything can be complained about. As I said, I like to complain.
Football does more that some appreciate
It brings people together to celebrate
From very young, you dream of being a legend
But to be the best it takes more than fate in the end.
The brilliance of winning,
The sadness of losing
Most sports are not the same
Cause you play football for the love of the game.
Being the best, it’s very hard. It takes work, practice and lots of other things. But to be the best you have to have determination; without determination you will never be the best. You also have to try to be the best, it will never come to you, you have to work towards it.
For example, Lewis Hamilton, the Formula 1 driver, signed for Mercedes-Benz at the age of thirteen for international karting. He worked from five years to thirteen years to now. He had determination to keep going forward even when he thought he had no chance. So never give up………….. ever!
I am scared of what I am daring every day
The sun comes out when I see it sometimes
I am in the long wild grass every day of my life
I am like the joy and excitement for the rest of my life
I sleep for three days when I’m very tired
And think about what I’m saying to myself
When I look in the sky
I see life and happiness in the sky.
At 9:00 am Monday morning
We walk in the doors
Another week at school
The homework is a pain
I do not like it
The days are too long
And the year goes really slow
The summer is good
Tea, tea oh how I love thee
What’s better than a good cup of rosie
Two sugars and a dash of milk
If you put milk in first, you’re a curse
While the kettle is boiling
The biscuits I’m un-foiling
Tea bag in first
Otherwise you’re a curse
Pouring the water as you look down
Watching the water turning brown
Two sugars and a dash of milk
If you put milk first you’re a curse
Sitting with my feet up
Thinking nothing is better than the tea in my cup
Elliot McDonnell, with help from Dylan Ralph & Simon McDonnell
The clock ticks as the time grows near
The boy broken as his glasses were many times before
Utter despair as he knows what is to come
The boy’s mind craves that surrounds him
But now believes he will never achieve this…….Ring!!
The bell rung like the artillery on D-Day
As the boy prepped to hit the beach
Confronted by his enemy he begins to run
Black eyes, bloody noses, bruising
Hide the emotional scars
Every day the boy felt the pain he never deserved.
As the beat him to the tune of mourns of agony
A shadow blocked by the sun
Day turned night
A hand reached out of the boy
You are never alone.
Every thought, every word, every picture
Is a product – a part
Of your mind, your passion
You are in a world of your own
A world of your own; Yes!
But some…must suffer their world
Why must they suffer?
Why are they alone?
Can someone not come?
Can they not be brought home?
These people lose their power for passion and pride
For they are hurt from side to side.
No, not hurt, not with a punch
If you do not know, I bequeath thee a hunch
What causes the pain they sustain
Not punches , nor kicks, nor fists
Through our own imagination we can cause hurt
And well – I find this absurd.