No white, no black,
No straight, no gay,
No skinny, no fat
No happy, no sad,
No strong, no weak,
No full, no empty,
No sun, no rain
No pure, no corrupt
No angel, no demon,
No god, no devil,
No monster, no saint,
Pushing people away because you thought they didn’t understand you
The truth is you never told them anything
You expected them to guess
All that causes is stress not fixing problems
But creating more
A divide between you and the people who wanted to help you
But you thought they couldn’t
Or you couldn’t tell them what was wrong
Playing guessing games leaving them to guess your mind frame
But when you’re feeling that pain it’s not the same
You don’t think sanely about what you’re saying
Or trying to say but you can’t get the words out
Because your throat clogs up and your guard goes up
And help turns to a hindrance
And all turns to hell
The Need to Impress
He walks into the full room everyone glances but he feels like they’re all staring,
He can feel everyone judging him.
The voice in his head is controlling him, he feels like an easy target,
The weakest link.
He can hear the sly comments, the jokes, and the abuse.
Why should anyone be put through all this taunting and pain just for the amusement of others?
There is no reason other than that everyone feel they need to impress, while their targets suffer.
The target is told it’s a joke, a joke, only a joke, it must make it okay to tell someone your only joking. Right?
But the target goes home contemplating life, he feels alone, his life is a joke and feels he needs a Way out.
But why, just because everyone feels they need to impress.
Everything was great.
I was 13 years old, he entered my life late.
It was just me and my mother until he came in to smother
Me with the constant pressure I’m unable to measure.
The fights, the constant fights,
I still remember the nights spent alone with my mother
Before the family added another, and another, and another,
Before the relationship we had was disbanded,
Before I felt constantly reprimanded,
Before my life was completely re-arranged.
7 in the morning on Monday
Laying there peaceful until the sound of the alarm clock disrupts your slumber
You rushing yourself to eat something before you walk out the door
Rushing yourself to be washed top to bottom
Rushing yourself to be dressed and look respectable
Rushing yourself to be on time for school or work
Rushing through the day staring at that clock waiting for the little hand to strike 4
Rushing home in heat of traffic
Rushing home to prepare a meal you hope to enjoy
Rushing in to the shower to forget about all the troubles of the day
Rush to bed all wrapped up to lose yourself in your dreams
I try and I try but nothing I do can please them
I try and try to impress them and improve
But no matter how hard I try
I fail and I fail
But when I put on those gloves everything changes
I have everyone on my side and helping me
When those gloves go on it’s like I’m someone new
My problems fade away and I can just not have to think
I try and succeed when I wear those gloves
Life is not as it Seems
When your problem are bad.
Look around you and see your friend
Their lives are not as they seem
You see they can look good
But it can be for show
If you think about life is a show for other people
There is always a problem underneath
It might look rosy and sweet
But people are very good at bottling it up
So just talk to someone
You might just feel better as look around
You might just have it good
I’m trying my best to be the best that I can,
To be a man when I’ve to be a man.
Be strong and brave, to protect what is mine,
But I know war is just a waste of time.
I won’t need a blade or even a gun,
Just only my legs so that I can run.
I’m trying my best to be the best that I can,
But I’m finding it hard to define what is a man.
Every time I wake
Every brush stroke when I brush my teeth
Every mouthful I chew of cardboard toast
Every mistimed joke, every awkward laugh
Every word whispered behind my back
Or spat on my face
Every rattling thought that tells you
You don’t deserve the counsellor’s sympathetic smile
You don’t deserve her automated responses
So you cancel them, make excuses not to go.
It’s the little things
The moments when you cannot come up
With the title of a poem
When i cannot remember sentence I just wrote
Because it isn’t good enough
It is never good enough
Everything feels like a copy of something old
But the truth is – I like the sadness
I like the insecurity
I like fear of rejection
Because it’s better to feel something
Than nothing at all.
I wish for an unprejudiced and equal world
Where black people aren’t treated like criminals
Where Muslims aren’t called terrorists
Where just because you have money doesn’t mean you have power
Where a man and a woman get the same pay
Where Homosexuals are treated the same as heterosexuals
Unfortunately, people of colour are treated terribly
I believe we can change this if we all get together and fight for it
We are who we are
We do what we do
We like what we like
We hate what we hate
We are the weak ones
We are the free ones
We all succeed but
We all have to fail
Never give up
Always believe you can do it
Some are better than us at certain things
But we are better than them at other things
Never be like someone else
Always be yourself
At the end of the day you only live once
Make use of it don’t waste it
This work makes me lurk for a deeper meaning, why am I doing this right now?
Why do I continue?
Something burns within that tells me to keep going meanwhile I can stop it all right now.
I go to school every day not wanting to, but still I continue.
What is this feeling and is there a meaning to why it always happens?
But in work, it’s one main thing that makes me continue.
I cannot thank them enough.
For getting me through hard times.
For making me laugh when I didn’t feel like it.
For laughing at my shitty jokes even though they weren’t funny.
For having my back, always,
Thank you, Friends.
We are the weak,
The sensitive and the judged.
We are the mistreated,
The black sheep, the pretenders.
We are the carrier of demons,
The protectors, the selfless.
We are the silent,
The fakers, the hidden.
We like what we like,
Hate what we hate.
Adults control us and try to change us,
Try to make us like them,
But they don’t seem to realize
That we don’t want to be like them.
We want to be free.
We want to control our own lives.
We deserve the right to be who we want to be.
We decide who we want to be friends with,
No matter their race, colour, religion or likes.
Adults try to drive us away from internet friends
But those friends, can be the nicest friends you’ll ever meet.
Live your own Lives.
We all go through struggles.
Your struggle may be getting called a name that hurts more than broken bones ever could.
Your struggle could be not knowing when your next meal will be or where you’ll be sleeping tonight.
Your struggle could be a look you receive when speaking your mind. A snigger.
Your struggle could be having two separated parents who struggle for money and blame you.
We need to stop comparing who’s going through worse stuff and realize that sometimes
We need to listen and not just hear.
We need to speak not state.
A Hidden Struggle
A hidden struggle is a struggle times ten,
A hidden struggle is constantly being tired and thinking you didn’t get enough sleep,
A hidden struggle is thinking you don’t want to talk to people because you’re not a morning person,
A hidden struggle is thinking you’re happy but deep inside lives a demon from the dark inferno of hell.
It’s okay to slag people,
You’re only messing.
Words don’t hurt, a common lie,
They leave eternal scars to pure souls that cannot be stitched back together like the ones on your wrists.
Relief is seeing the ruby drip from your delicate skin,
Relief is drinking till the world around you spins while you lay on the floor in your own vomit,
Relief is taking the happy pill and thinking “Ill only do it once”.
Relief is locking yourself in your room,
Thinking: “you deserve this.”
You only live once,
Why bother working hard to achieve your goals if one day it will all come crashing down
And the only thing left of you is your name on a stone.
You only live once,
Tell someone you love them,
Boy and Girl, Boy and Boy, Girl and Girl.
She Sits There
She sits there on her phone, has a child, but she still gets stoned.
She doesn’t care, not about the child, only her hair.
The child is older now, somehow. Survived the first years
With a parent who glided, a parent who was divided,
A parent who denied it, but the truth hurts,
Children learn as they see, so the parent’s habits convert.
Look at her now, amazed by alcohol and weed,
Soon she will feel the need, to get more, to be adored by a dealer,
She needs a healer, but miracles are rare.
She sits there on her phone, has a child, but she still gets stoned.
She doesn’t care, not about the child, only her hair.
Fifteen and in transition year,
Struggling to balance school, sports and a social life
Struggling to balance A’s, Dublin development squads and Instagram likes.
Struggling to decide on my future while still trying to enjoy my youth.
Trying every day to deal with the constant pressure of parents and peers,
Trying to find a degree to study,
Trying to get athletic success,
Trying to still have fun.
Wasting the best years of my life on my future and what might be
I just want to be young and enjoy being free.
This is Where
They zoom passed on their Kawasaki
Two at a time
Pulling wheelies and floating it
The roars of the two-cylinder engine
Is heard all over
“Helmets are for wusses”
Is shouted to concerned mothers
It was too late though
He didn’t see the car turn the corner
A mother now weeps over a plaque
Surrounded by vibrant flowers
And in the distant the engines roar again
This is where the speed addicted live
And this is where they die.
We are treated like dirt
We are treated like robots
We are forced to do the same shit everyday
We are not listened to
We are given a number not a name nor personality
We are made to wear the same clothes
We are looked down upon
WE ARE STUDENTS
Living everyday going through stuff
Not showing it
Trying your hardest to keep your chin up
But you know you’re feeling pain
And its getting worse
The worst part is thinking if you have anyone to talk to
Your mates your girlfriend fighting with your mates
Fighting with your ma and da storming out
Not knowing what to do
Running and not stopping
Thoughts racing through
Your mind thinking that you’re not one of a kind
Just a lost soul in this world
You sit there crying
Cause you feel like it’s all not worth it
Feeling like you’re out of your mind
Feeling like this life isn’t mine
Scars stuck to you
And anytime you look at them
It gets worse
But you just need to learn and get on
Because it’s life
The Reindeer Mounts
After the funeral, I ran from home, sworn never to go back,
I have endured enough pain in these years, and i owe it to myself
To find myself, my soul, my own two feet, and I knew just where to go!
I sold the house and kept the cheque in case i decided to return.
I fled deeply into the forest, through the forest, straight into its mountains.
I fought a reindeer bull and got covered in cuts and bruises, but still, i was victorious.
I ate its meat over a fire, still in physical disbelief, and heard
A cry from a reindeer fawn, struggling under a new fallen log,
I recognised myself, young and under pressure, the reason I fled from home.
I was full, my appetite fled, and I had enough fur pelt,
I lifted the log, and off the fawn fled, I followed its tracks to a river bank,
It found its mother and fell asleep, and I realised I wanted to go back to society,
And rented an apartment.
Peter A Pettigrew
We live in a society of hard men and judgemental people
A society of boys who think batterin some young fellah or fleecin their bike is lethal
A society where you can’t you walk home without the fear of gettin beaten
A society where you get judged by olones and olfellahs,
Where everyone thinks you’re a scumbag
Where everyone thinks you’re a junkie,
Where the garda treat ye like a criminal for no reason
Just because they have more authority,
Where everyone thinks they know you
Enter dreadful atmosphere, toxicness fills the air why do I come here?
Faceless sheep walking the halls ain’t in control machines on auto
Judging eye always on top trying climb the top.
Leech on the small, act the part put fake face on to impress the rest.
You are different if you ain’t a clone.
School is deathful.
Alex Conway Mernagh
The Edge of Town
I come from a place where everyone is raised with drink, drugs and violence
I come from a place where every night you inhale the fumes of burning rubber and fall asleep To the screeches of tire across the pavement
I come from a place where drug deals happen at every corner
I come from a place where kids are raised hating Garda
I come from a place that is automatically known as The Edge of Town
The run down area that is called Darndale
Is where I grew up
This area is not a place you want to be raised
Or even raise your own child someday,
You do not want you or your child
To be seeing all the violence
And all the other shit that goes on around here
Drug dealings etc.
It’s called Darndale
A Concrete Jungle
A junkie’s last dream.
Because my parents have owned companies
And started companies making loads of money,
I feel like I let them down if I get a bad result
But I can’t concentrate when studying
No matter how hard I try something distracts me
And before I know it it’s become over an hour
Of me just staring at my phone and reading nothing
But I can’t help it no matter how hard I try to put my head down.
We are the drunks, the smokers,
We are the homeless, the poor.
We are the people, who ruin this country and run it.
It’s not what’s going to happen in our lives,
It’s the things that happened.
The things that shape us the things that make us,
This is who we are,
So leave us alone.
You walk down the road,
Passing a group of lads
What are you wearing?
You deserve to be stabbed,
Is all you hear in this area.
So you be Thor and I’ll be Odin, you rodent, I’m omnipotent
Let off then I’m reloading immediately with these bombs I’m totin’
And I should not be woken
I’m the walking dead, but I’m just a talking head, a zombie floating
But I got your mom deep throating
I’m out my ramen noodle, we have nothing in common, poodle
I’m a doberman, pinch yourself in the arm and pay homage, pupil
It’s me, my honesty’s brutal
But it’s honestly futile if I don’t utilize what I do though
For good at least once in a while
So I wanna make sure somewhere in this chicken scratch I scribble and doodle
Enough rhymes to maybe to try and help get some people through tough times
But I gotta keep a few punchlines just in case cause even you unsigned
Rappers are hungry looking at me like it’s lunchtime
I know there was a time where once I
Was king of the underground, but I still rap like I’m on my Pharoahe Monch grind
So I crunch rhymes, but sometimes when you combine
Appeal with the skin color of mine
You get too big and here they come trying to,
Censor you like that one line I said on “I’m Back” from the Marshall Mathers LP
One where I tried to say I take seven kids from Columbine
Put ’em all in a line, add an AK-47, a revolver and a nine
See if I get away with it now that I ain’t as big as I was, but I’ve
Morphed into an immortal coming through the portal
You’re stuck in a time warp from 2004 though
And I don’t know what you rhyme for
You’re pointless as Rapunzel with cornrows
You’re like normal, damn being normal
And I just bought a new Raygun from the future
To just come and shoot ya like when Fabolous made Ray J mad
‘Cause Fab said he looked like a fag at Maywhether’s pad
Singin’ to a man while they played piano
Man, oh man, that was a 24/7 special on the cable channel
So Ray J went straight to the radio station the very next day
“Hey, Fab, I’mma kill you”
Lyrics coming at you at supersonic speed, (JJ Fad)
Uh, sama lamaa duma lamaa you assuming I’m a human
What I gotta do to get it through to you I’m superhuman
Innovative and I’m made of rubber
So that anything you saying ricocheting off of me and it’ll glue to you
I’m never stating, more than never demonstrating
How to give a audience a feeling like it’s levitating
Never fading, and I know that the haters are forever waiting
For the day that they can say I fell off, they’d be celebrating
Cause I know the way to get ’em motivated
I make elevating music, you make elevator music
Oh, he’s too mainstream
Well, that’s what they do when they get jealous, they confuse it
It’s not hip hop, it’s pop, cause I found a hella way to fuse it
With rock, shock rap with Doc
Throw on Lose Yourself and make ’em lose it
I don’t know how to make songs like that
I don’t know what words to use
Let me know when it occurs to you
While I’m ripping any one of these verses diverse as you
It’s curtains, I’m inadvertently hurtin’ you
How many verses I gotta murder to,
But look at the accolades the skills brung me
Full of myself, but still hungry
I bully myself cause I make me do what I put my mind to
And I’m a million leagues above you, ill when I speak in tongues
But it’s still tongue in cheek, fuck you
I’m drunk so Satan take the wheel, I’m asleep in the front seat
Bumping Heavy D and the Boys, still chunky, but funky
But in my head there’s something I can feel tugging and struggling
Angels fight with devils, here’s what they want from me
They asking me to eliminate some of the women hate
But if you take into consideration the bitter hatred that I had
Then you may be a little patient and more sympathetic to the situation
And understand the discrimination
But, life’s handing you lemons, make lemonade then
Don’t mistake it for Satan
It’s a fatal mistake if you think I need to be overseas
And take a vacation to trip a broad
Be a king? Think not, why be a king when you can be a God?
Born into the System
I was born into the system
You’d think I would have missed them
My mother loved me but it’s a pity my father didn’t
Ye he was a dead beat dad, that you know I never had
You know I got to make my mom proud
She wants to see me happy
She put me in my nappies
She didn’t think I would be this yappy
You know you’re never going to be this good
Born in Dublin
Age – 15
Struggling to keep up with school
And everything else
Worried about leaving cert
That my future depends on.
I come from an area full of trouble
I come into school and deal with boring teachers
Always giving out and the school is full of rules.
We do tests, we pass, we fail,
And we get tested on our intellect day every day.
School gets rougher day by day
And the way school treats kids,
We’d be better on the streets.
I come from Chanel College with the blue jumpers and grey trousers
And i’m sad because Joe’s Cafe made chicken rolls three euro
And the wok is closed down.
I’m sad because Spar is a rip-off
And the Discount Store is closed.
I’m sad that lunch is crap now.
My life is a PowerPoint.
Slides are things about me,
I create slides,
I delete slides,
I change slides,
I display my slides,
I change the colour of my slides for my expressions,
I use effects,
I use order in my slides,
I change the font size and font type
To how I like the things in my life and how I don’t.
But most importantly I get to edit my slides the way I want
With a password so I’m the one who runs my life.
On the Edge
We are all living on edge
Some closer to the ledge
For some this is a means to an end
But is easier done than said