Take me Out
Take me out of my casing
Place me in your arms and hold me
Reaching for my tested twines,
Your supple fingertips graze my surface;
You begin to play
From ABC to 123
You hit all of my notes
Your method so mellow,
Your approach so gentle,
Yet you still manage to produce such beauty
String by string, I find myself
Slipping deeper into your essence,
Your genius,
This is what I’m here for,
Your harmony; my home.
Molly McGibney
I’m a Generation
Raise a glass to the awful truth
That you can’t reveal the eyes of youth
To those who broke their backs and hearts
So they could tear our world apart
Raise a glass the awful truth
That life will be but a baby tooth
He says he gave his kids’ lives a head start
But along the way he tore the world apart
Frustration gets the better of me
Cause they’re the future’s enemy
Cause of them the worlds gone to hell
It’s time to rebel
I’m not a nation
I’m a generation
You’re not a nation
You’re a generation
We’re not a nation we’re a generation
Jude Forrester
Boredom
What you whisper is half a story
Say what you want it only ever seems to bore me
To stop consuming my thoughts so fast
“Nothing you do will ever be enough” they say
But that’s ok when nothing matters
Or so you have convinced yourself
The part of yourself that is Devine when everyone else just
Seems to be fine
“Time moves on and leaves you behind”
But time is only an illusion
Yet a constant intrusion on my mind
A realization of inconsistency
Of temptation which only ever ends in persuasion.
Anon
Tall Enough
I remember when I was young,
My parents would scratch a pencil onto walls
Show me how tall I am
How the distance between the pencils would grow and grow
Until it stopped
As soon as I was tall enough
I was seen as “old enough” to everybody around
I never knew what being “old enough” meant
I was forced to be a good example towards other people and children because I was “old enough”
When I don’t even know how to be a good example
I don’t know how to tell younger children what to do
I don’t know how to talk to people without anxiety setting in
About what I can and cannot say to them
The school system thinks my age on paper represents the age in my head
I’m expected to be mature and to “know all this stuff already”
When I’m tall enough, I’m old enough
When I’m old enough, I’m mature enough
I’m mature enough, so I should be able to handle it
I should be able to handle teachers shouting when I don’t know what to do
I should be able to handle my parents fighting while I’m in the room next door
I should be able to handle knowing some of my friends and people I know struggle mentally
I should be able to handle all these things
But I cannot, because I was never explained to how
So I’m not mature enough, I’m not old enough
I’m just tall enough for people to tell me what I should be feeling like.
Anon
Untitled
Feet on the ground, head in the sky
I reach for the stars but I can’t touch them, why?
Deep in the mud my feet are stuck,
I cannot get out of this garbage truck.
It’s hard to fight the urge to just stop,
To sit in the rubbish and stay in a strop.
But I have to stay hopeful, I have to believe,
If I gave up it would just be naive.
Still reaching high, as high as I can,
My dreams are in sight but they still aren’t in hand.
I’ve come so far I’m almost there,
I’m climbing up the wishing stairs.
I have my star, I grew and I grew,
I didn’t give up and now my dreams have come true.
Isabelle Concannon
Untitled
How is it that we are all the same but are seen so different?
How is it that we all have a heart, a brain and breathe the same air?
Yet we treat each other as if we are poles apart?
How is it that the colour of our skin or the things that we think set us apart from others?
Even though deep down we are all the same.
We all feel joy, we all feel pain, and we all laugh and cry
So why is it that people are put down because of these little things
When there is so many more things in this world to be worried about?
Ally O’Neill
Pain Gives Birth to Joy
Pain gives birth to joy
From the bleeding close to death
Comes the breathing to life
Because of you, I have got this far
Inseparable like the heart and soul
We kill each other but would die for one another
For as long as I can remember
You’re everything our family should be
I give you hard times and times you wish to forget
Although you are always near
I forget to say how much you mean to me
You are the sunshine and the light to my day
Sophie Conroy
She Is
She is beautiful,
Not like girls in the magazine,
The glisten in her eyes is unique as one,
Never a peak,
To see the beauty of one seen by another,
As one sees beauty for she is beautiful for one and one only.
Jessica Murphy
The Darkness
The darkness wants people to rest
And animals to come out
To hide everything
And for nothing to be seen
For the sun to be hidden
To show a new perspective
It brings out a new side of the world
Which can be scary for some
Or exciting for others
Ben O’Connell
Mental Health
Mental Health, what is it?
Is it the girl down the road who never shows up for school,
Is it the boy who never talks,
Is it you or me,
Is it seeing things that aren’t really there,
Treating family like their strangers.
Obsessing and more obsessing is all she does,
Negativity is all she thinks.
Beautiful talented children and a supportive husband,
Yet she still isn’t happy, driving her kids to the edge of the world to never return home.
Her children now filled with problems as she was once,
But is it her fault?
Driving her husband acround the bend, he is constantly paranoid, constantly worrying,
But is it her fault?
That her family is scared, and slowly falling apart.
Emotional abuse
But is it her doing it?
The same questions asked again and again,
The same queries asked again and again.
The future problems her children and grandchildren will face because of this illness.
She tries and tries but can’t.
But is it her fault?
Holly Peters McGrath
A Stone in Still Water
The stone sits at the bottom of the lake
For its own sake it lies in wait
The water swirls slowly in place
It writhes and curls and begins to race
For if the stone were to break
The water would believe itself improved
But the stone it sits still and stays unmoved
For if, the stone were to lose
That would mark another soul abused
Laeg T. Winder
Untitled
1=2
Memes come to die
Men fidget with their pens
The line between good and bad grows thinner
I becomes we
The white and black becomes grey
We hide the bodies
Men become gamers
Boomers become zoomers
Gamers rise up
Anon
I’m Sure
I’m sure I know what you’re thinking
Watching me in class without blinking
Trying to get your point across
You probably think I’m trying to be the boss.
I’m not, I’m just sitting
And trying to stop my emotions from showing
We’re always told to act hard and be tough
But boys are getting sick of that stuff
I have stuff to say, but I choose not
Only because I don’t like being on the spot
We’re not all the same, they’ll soon come to find
And I have a girl, I love her for her mind.
Jasper Cahill
I Remember
I remember the first day I met you.
We were at the coffee shop when you walked in.
Little did I know you would change my life forever.
I remember how you kissed me.
I remember how happy we were.
I remember how we laughed and whispered and cried.
I remember how deeply I fell in love without you.
Your eyes, your voice, your smile.
I remember you whispering sweet nothings in my ear before we went to bed.
I remember how she told me how your fingers moved in the dark and how you kissed her.
I remember how she told me how you said you loved her.
I remember how my heart broke when you told me you cheated.
How the tears uncontrollably fell from my eyes.
And I remember how I could never look at myself the same because of you.
I remember.
Anon
Some People
Some people think that I am strong
Well, I think that’s wrong
They say I’ve a strong mind
But that’s something I can’t find
I look at my friends acting pretty and witty
As I sit there thinking of the nitty and gritty
I thought they had everything
Well I was wrong
I can’t presume what someone is going through
And when I go to call them out I sit and review
Everyone’s facing their own fight
In their thoughts while I’m sleeping sound at night
No matter how pretty and happy they seem
They too are probably struggling with low self-esteem
Never tell a person how they should feel
Because you’re worst thoughts are their problems that are real
I’ve now told you the inevitable truth
That shall haunt you for the rest of your youth
Beware these thoughts will be with you till death
And you will only let go when you take your last breath
Joanna Gartlan
Born and Raised
Born in Ireland, raised in New Zealand leaving everything behind to come back one day
Only to disobey my thoughts keeping me in this perpetual dismay
This is where I spend my day in these walls that sweat
Another day, another threat
Like the bathroom overflowing the water from the tap
Today I think I’d be that classic chap
Joseph O’Connor
Where
This where I come everyday,
The same place where I stare at my broken reflection,
The same old cold musty bathroom filled with rejection
I sit and glare of what I am, while watching the tears run down my face,
Just looking at the same old disgrace.
The longer I look into the broken glass,
There’s no point on trying to cover the cracks of the past.
As mirror is just a piece of glass and I know I should have more class
Than to let it bother me
Torin O’Neill
Untitled
Dust on the furniture, dishes in the sink, fluff on the carpet and footprints on the floor,
Must I hide my life and wash away my DNA?
Oh no! It’s too late, there’s a knock on the door!
I’m sorry about the mess, I’m sorry I have a life,
I’m sorry I live in my house but I’m too busy with my spouse.
A clean freak I may be, but I am a busy bee.
I have a life that I must live,
But I don’t have a thriving urge to mop my kitchen floor or bleach my loo.
Yes just like you I have a life too.
Don’t always have time to make my house shine.
Now I must go, but next time you visit please know I don’t always own a show home.
Anon
Untitled
Boys who skipped period 3 of class to go into the lavatory and vape
Screams of a newborn baby
All the tourists that have visited Ireland on vacation
All the boys that go into the toilet to get changed for physical education class
Then start yapping for ten minutes straight
The amount of times the teacher had to knock on the bathroom door
To get the boys out of the toilet
(As the teacher would say “get out of the bloody toilet. What are you doing in there?”)
All the convicted men that escaped from the police station
Ilya Foley
The Ocean
Is a time when it’s clean,
When fish don’t choke on jean,
When the ice is solid and cold,
When the oil isn’t sold.
Is a time when plastic is gone,
When we see the pain and don’t yawn,
When the heat does not burn,
When the people who feel this are stern.
Oscar Egan Ó Murchú