America, you great unfinished symphony
Yorktowns Battle of 1781,
Stirred a feeling of victory and ambition in the founding fathers and sons.
A dream for the country in which they fought so hard to reclaim,
But it was in fact these same people who inflicted unspeakable pain,
On the lands natives, people of colour and women
It makes you stop and wonder, “can history like this easily be forgiven?”
Some will argue that there is two sides to the coin at hand,
“it’s all in the past “they’d defend, “this is the promised land”
As the Scripture says, “everyone must sit under their own vine
And fig tree and no one shall make you afraid”.
But if you stop and look, it’s sad to see how many people live in constant fear of the country you’ve made
Perhaps now you’ll focus on basic human rights, with your new and improved congress
A black female VP and diverse senate, I guess you are making progress
America, a country of dreams,tragedy and bigotry
America, you great unfinished symphony
No matter how much we fight and scream,
Equality will always be just a dream.
They don’t listen, they don’t change,
We’re all stuck in chains
Of misogyny, homophobia, racism,
Or it’s false leftism or the fetishism,
When does it end?
Will it ever end?
Calories, Guys and Sliced up Thighs
Teen angst, teen whims, teen suffocation
Teen memory, teen mind mutilation
It seems, to anyone else to be
It’s imprinted on us before we can talk
You’ll make it, if you fit the catwalk
I am a number on a scale
I am the weak, the pale, the frail,
I am the space between my thighs
I am the terror in your eyes
When you ask me if I’m at it again.
Vapour trails from nose and mouth
We’re the kids our parents warned us about
Why are you
So far away
Six months its been,
Since that day.
Got in the car
That 3 hour drive,
The last one in
A long, long time.
Its been 6 months
Since i’ve been home.
I live here,
But feel alone.
It was my haven,
My safe space.
At a much slower pace.
My friends, my family
All up there
With me stuck
Stuck down here.
And new restrictions
Last year seemed
The stuff of fiction.
I live in Meath,
Thats pretty clear.
But Donegal is home,
I wish I was there.
Run my Race
Everyday I lace my boots and put on my face,
Thinking about how I have to run my race,
Do I look scared or in a state of fear,
Of what others might say, think or snear.
I stand 6ft tall,
Inside only 3ft tall,
Being so small getting surrounded by theses rising walls,
Thinking if I climb out is it too far to fall.
This is how I feel,
Every minute, every hour, everyday of every week,
Wondering if today a roof will be put on those walls,
Feeling only then I will have to take it all.
I know you think about me and maybe even dream about me,
The beautiful days and long conversations and takeaways we ate together,
Only the good times you remember and the daughter you miss,
Then your bliss dreams turn to nightmares and your remember all the bad memories,
The abuse, the degrading, the constant shaming and yelling you gave her,
And then you realize why when you left she didn’t want you back.
I often feel like I’m falling behind
Looking for a way to keep up with the grind
Constantly looking for that one special grade
But that letter I want is never displayed
Gets you down the longer you stare at it
But I have one thing that helps me escape from it
I go down to the pitch with a ball in hand
Kick points and kick goals whatever I demand
Doing this gives me a sense of freedom
Gives me that peace whenever I need some
Walking through the streets of Dublin
Smell of chips in the air
Looking through the change in my pockets
Getting ready to pay the bus fare
The spire towers over the city
The tourists laugh and chat
Oh what a pity,
That Coronavirus has stopped that
As I’m waiting at the station
I hear a busker play
I turn and listen to his creation
Thinking its been a good day.
There’s nothing quite like Dublin’s own town
From the booming businesses to the bustling crowds
It’s history carved into every building
Of the pasts women, men and children
From each street springs life that is lively and fierce
Through the cobbles of Grafton, O’Connell and Pearse
But that fierce can be dangerous,life-threatening and grey
For the people who live on its streets night and day
Along with the horrors, there’s beauty in its midst
And reminders that those before us did indeed exist
Sometimes if you close your eyes and listen real close
You can hear the bullets ricochet off the General Post
The ghosts of the leaders in 1916
Stand tall and proud outside Kilmainham Gaol
As they take in the once bloodied massacred scene
Content that their sacrifice was not to no a avail
Some Might Say
Some might say I can never be sad
Just because I grew up with the things I wanted
If I was ever unhappy I must be mad
But the people can’t see what goes on inside
The pressure, the anxiety and self hate
Was told to grow up so all these things I still hide
Don’t remember that last time I saw my dad and yes that hurts
But sometimes I think if I was with him I would turn out worse
When Will It End?
Stuck inside these four walls
Always on zoom calls
Staring at the screen
Wondering will it ever end
Nothing feels real
All the days roll into one
Its like I am stuck in a loop
It feels like its going know where
When will it end?
In my Room
When I’m in my room,
Just me and my shoe,
I think about cars that go vroom.
Or maybe the sky that’s kinda blue,
I actually don’t know what I have to do.
When I’m in my room,
I think about moments I could miss,
The falls, the trips or the room’s bliss.
Why am I even up here?
Oh ye I forgot
I threw my key out the window,
And now I’m locked.
I wonder if I scream
So I can get help
But then I remember
I’m in my head by myself
I then wake up
To remember a bit of info
That I still threw my key
Out the window
From the crossroads to North and South,
Baldwinstown, Garristown, my home.
Where we grew up running in the fields,
Jumping ditches and wrecking hedgerows,
Following where the wind blows.
Playing football in the garden,
With lots of room to spare,
This is my happy place,
You wouldn’t know was there.
I play video games to get away
And usually that’s what makes my day
I get lost in the games
Lost of dreams of fame
Its such a shame
That it’s all just fake
The amount of happiness I get from one person is worrying
They make me so happy you wouldn’t believe
There’s always that fear that they will get up and leave
How will I feel happiness then?
If my source of serotonin came from them
The Poem about Dublin
Walking through Temple Bar
And I’m taking it all in
I can hear everything, even the sound of a car
But the downside is, I have a mask that covers my chin
I’ve decided to go get a drink
But all I can smell is fags
Then all of a sudden, I hear the sound ‘clink’
And then see bar men with cleaning rags
I’m loving this spot
It’s the best drink I’ve ever got
Since Covid came to be
We’re all living the same
Why do people have to be so mean
Always finding someone to blame
We need to come together
All unite as one
This won’t last forever
Soon again we’ll have some fun
I have brains and Braun, I am tough but not strong.
I’m held up to standards that are set from birth,
Told to go back to the kitchen and clean
I like laughing at farts and video games,
Getting muddy out on the playing field
Be good at maths or science I could never do
The standards of a man I’ll never be held up to
Everything I Do
I come from jigsaw world globes
I come from boxing gloves
I come from playing Xbox
I come from being out with mates all day
I come from climbing trees and playing chasing in the fields
I come from building snowmen in the snow
I come from the gym
I come from DJ decks
I come from mountain bikes
I come from working hard
I come from working on Lorries
I come from lifting weights I come from running
I come from everything I do
I’m from a place full dealers and stealers
I’m the hot head who sticks up for his mates before anyone of the are turned to bait
I’m from a place where doing drugs are more common than hugs
This place is a kip you’ll end up with a busted lip
A virus has been spreading, and it is going fast.
But everyone isn’t listening and are being a dose.
People don’t clean and get infected.
Because there being smart-asses and ignore the warnings.
I play FIFA all the time
But it feels like a crime
The game is so bad
But I still play it, which I don’t understand
I smash my controller with rage
I feel so aged
It makes me suppressed
But I am also obsessed