These Broken-Hearted Streets
In these broken streets
Broken people meet and talk
In broken English
Where alcoholics stalk
In the dreary run down alleys
Where the broken-hearted hoards
And junkies laying on the ground
Soiling themselves with the laughter
Of the here and ever after
Normal people are wipe the dirt
From off their well-heeled feet
Afraid to walk
These broken-hearted streets
Kind words mean more to people then worldly expenses.
Your words are invaluable, an infinite currency.
Yet like money can buy both aid and weapons,
Your words can be the difference;
Between the happiness and sadness of others.
Let words be the tools you use,
To provide aid not weapons;
To lift others up rather then bring them down.
I am sure what quite to write
But in spite of this I will find something
I’m having writers block
Like Frankenstein’s monster I need some creative shock
Something inspired yet interesting
Getting ideas is like pulling teeth or blood letting
Maybe something religious there’s messages in there
Yet when a topic comes to my mind subject matters bare
In the sense that nothing sounds quite right
Maybe my life needs conflicts and more fights
However this is the problem of the human condition
When life is uninteresting pointless rage is the pointless end goal
Of an even more of even more pointless mission
This brings us to depression
When philosophy gets put in question
And so ends this writing lesson
I am the king of the mountain,
Were the big bog is of turf,
People come and go but I am the big man,
Who never goes!
There saying there going to by a rising but,
It will not happen in my bog,
They say it’s a thing of globe warming,
By ye can cut away in my bog,
If a government comes to my birth place the bog,
No government will ever step foot again,
I am the man who has a friend called Donald trump,
I am going to get him to build a wall for me
This is where we dream
Of rainy afternoons in Croke Park
Where the sun beats down on green and gold
Where heroes rise and fall and legends are made
Where blood sweat and tears
Are like the currency of the Gods
Where the faithful follow through lows and highs
And bow in prayer and exaltation
All in fearful expectation of hope and of glory
Where the roar shakes the ground
To the foundations of the earth
And can be heard for miles in the windy streets
Where the porter flows like the tear drops of giants
And we march our way back home
An shattered dreams with full hearts
How can I be the master of my soul
Or the captain of my faith?
Trapped here for 6 years
Behind these bars of academia.
Where I spend most of my days
Scavenging for inspiration
Among the wreckage of our rural lives
Abuse lingers in dark corners
Phones are banned and words are spoken
Bell rings and jaws drop
Scraping of the linoleum
Classes start and the football stops
The last few hours stretch into eternity
We must all be our strongest
For tomorrow is another day
And in hell it is boredom not fire that burns you
We are full of passion, rage and a burning desire,
All for the winning
The stakes couldn’t be higher
With one kick of a ball
And the wave of a flag
It gets the crowd jumping
And all you want is to give your man a right good thumping
With a blow of the whistle from the referee
That’s it it’s over
Our Virtual World
Everyday I’m told to go outside and talk to people
The times I’ve done it face to face usually are me being bullied
Called names getting hurt I used to be bullied a lot
Because I’m naturally weak, not into sports and have different humour
Everyday I’m told to get of my stupid video games
Told that the people I’m talking to online aren’t real
Told that I have to get away from the virtual reality I plunge headfirst into
…………but I never will
The people I talk to online never hurt me because they understand the pain
They never call me names and always make me happy
They are always there for me and I will always be there for them
The games we play together, the worlds we get to explore and solve puzzles together
Are pure art and an escape from the reality outside
These are my real friends and I am theirs in our virtual world.
We are the kings of the GAA field
We protect our pride with a strong shield
What made it so sweet?
Is the way we never got beat
We are the kings of the GAA field
Even though it may seem like a battlefield
We attack and defend
Until the bitter end
She Sits in Front
The carpet is red and the walls are white.
We are sitting in classroom that is quiet.
We sit and stare at her fair hair.
That as long as a rake that looks like a snake.
But glares like the scorching sun.
She sits in front with someone’s power
As all boys wish she was with them in the shower.
She knows she got them around her finger.
What a game it gives you thrill,
In summer’s heat or winter’s chill,
High hopes and pounding feet,
Will lead to our opponents defeat,
A taste of grass or a smell of sweat,
Our forces will never quit,
Kick the ball and stop the run,
Let’s show them who’s number one.
After JC night being s***e
We decided to have our own results night
Cracking open a few cans
With no other plans
We were told to tag along
Saying no put a twist in their t***gs
With a crackling bonfire
Our conversations went down to the wire
But after all it’s just fun in games
At the end of the day its all the same.
World War Three
World War Three is on its way,
Donald and Kim are ready to play.
Nukes and bombs are on their way,
To destroy the world today
Danny Healy Rae will come to save the day
With all his fairies they will do a lot
Slaughtering who ever tries to plot
The destruction of the country of Ireland.
There was once a person called Benny
He lived on farm with a shit tonne of money
He made it by investing in dairy
Which made him a shit load of money
Now he’s bought too much Masseys
Now he’s gone broke
Twas good for a while the silly old yoke
But still Benny’s gone broke
Gearoid O Flaherty
Kim Jung Un
Kim Jung Un thinks he’s so great,
But he doesn’t have that many mates,
Even though he runs his own state,
He’s having trouble with the United States,
Donald Trump said he’s not great,
Because he’s trying to bomb Guam,
With his telecom without his mom,
Before Trump nukes Korea and says see ya.