Colaiste Eanna, Rathfarnham, Dublin 16

The Mirror

I’ve been doing this now for a year and a bit
But when I look in the mirror I feel I still look like shit
Even though I’ve been told by many that I look great
I still feel that I have the same fat face
Whenever I’m in that building I never think of anything else
Except for improving my future self.



Whirs of computer fans
beaches of golden sand.
Ice and sun and sleeves too short
or torn or arms sawn off for broken bones.
Half of a t-shirt sewn with another
and worn with a skirt.
Scarves of van gogh bright purple cloth
and grins putting two fingers up to the camera
and scabbed knees
and a mischievous smile
and sun and ocean
and me.



This is time to buckle down
This is time to drop your crown
Not to act the clown, not to hide your frown
Go to town, with work or with school
No need to act cool, be a tool or act the fool
No need to stand tall or be hard like a walls
Be yourself and enjoy the ride, no need to hide,
just glide and take pride in the stuff you do.
Stay true to yourself and enjoy this life
we only get one so go have fun


Echoes of Shadows

In judgment, pain and regret is where I live
With sniggers and smirks and slagging and jokes
With feelings of hurt helplessness and loneliness
And standards to meet a things to live up to
But also joy and hope and friendships
Shooting down the negativities
Compliments and selflessness
People picking me back up
And I start to realise I don’t live alone


Trauma Born

Born with trauma my body wasn’t perfect. heart wrong side, lungs don’t work but all was fixed soon after i was very sick i am not so fixed no more.
Small and skinny with rotten teeth from medicine to help me eat but now again I’m fixed started my life , moved from house to house finding the right place to live my family find a place to live in a rural area on the north side of dublin ,settled in well best friends were made thinking this was my forever place! But no my family want to move again i feel unfixed again suffering with losing my childhood friends and the memories i made thinking ill never find them again. Living in my nannys with no friends made hearing all the great memories my old friends have now made but shortly after i move to a new school feel welcomed and happy again i will never forget my old friends but the memories i have made cant compare i am now fixed.


This Lads Room

In a little Dublin home, a lad sits in his room and worries.
Not about homework, or academics.
Not about his physique or his performance in sport.

But he worries about who he loves.
He lets his negative thoughts fester.
Making him sicker and sicker.
To the point he thinks he’s going to vomit.

But he knows it’s going to be ok.
In the end,
No matter what happens,
Love will prevail above all.

Stay positive 🙂


Emotions and arts can intertwine perfectly

A singularity, a compound showing what you feel or think or what you want people to feel.

It can be bright and colourful like the world in a children’s book with perfect happy life’s and happily ever afters that bring joy to our hearts and make us content.

It can be grimdark, showing horrors of endless war or Lovecraft’s tales to make us feel insignificant or helpless, used.

Art isn’t just two-dimensional, art can be made on a canvas or model, whether it be a diorama, a paint or even you.
Movements of dance, frantic or slowly, both of which can be the perfect way to showcase you to the world.

And what of me? I’ll stay with the brush, not for the fabric of a canvas but rather for building a miniature’s character, building up details. Details to show authority, details to show struggle, details to show pride, details to show what makes mere pieces of plastic like us. Details to make us human.

Difference between hope and a dream.

I am to be a writer.
I am not told nor have I ever. It has only been a fact which I must live by, a rule.
I enjoy it as much as one may and it is the only thing which I have talent. It is my purpose and I shall play to my role.

It’s my purpose, but I’ve never considered it a dream. To be a dream, you must be motivated, determined to carry on with it, writing will always come naturally.
A dream has to be forced, fought over. No dream has ever been owned by someone, not one.
I imagine I must steal mine too, but I don’t know what I must take.

My writing is my purpose, but not my dream. Often times, I ponder this and try to convince myself that it’s more complex than it ever truly was.
Though, like my writing, I have to take it as fact. My dream is to be happy. I want to be content. I want to be with my friends, whom I have always considered my true family, and above all, be kind.



Abusive father manipulating again and again
traumatic childhood,
with schizophrenic mother life with constant toil
and battle viewed by teachers in school as a “messer”
viewed by others as “inconsiderate”
while he was acting as a child
because he never had a childhood himself.
Now with his father who uses the silent treatment
manipulates him battling with his father
constantly trying to stay out of the house as much as possible
and when he eventually comes back and knocks on the door
and thinks to himself “just another day in the office”
as he deals with his neglectful father.
But despite all this my friend (won’t name)
is still one of the kindest and funniest person
I’ve ever met and has a spark and uniqueness about him
that I hope doesn’t get burnt out by what he’s going through.


I love my Martial Art

but I hate how some people act doing it.
I love the way I play games
but I hate when people try to make it too serious.
I love to hear others thoughts on what I like
because it makes it interesting
but I hate when people try to say it’s wrong or right.
I love what I love but hate when I can’t
But I love when I love it without a thought.



On fields of green, warriors stand
Some are small, some are grand
In a line awaiting the the whistle
Tackles are hit like missiles
Like soldiers on a battlefield
They’re passion for the ball will never yield
With every tackle and every scrum
They’re spirits will never numb


Hallowed Halls

In Colaiste Eanna’s hallowed halls,
Knowledge blooms, and wisdom calls.
Where minds ignite like blazing fire,
And dreams ascend, reaching higher.
In learning’s dance, hearts find their sway,
In Colaiste Eanna’s light, they stay.


Love is mad

Love is sad
Love can make you look bad
Love is happy
Love is crappy
Love can make you look fatty
Love is grate
Love is bate
Love can make you look overweight
Love is mad,
Love is love and that’s fate.


Where to Look

There’s love in everyone and everything,
But you need to find it.

Climb a mountain and love the view.
Go out with your friends and speak with them.
Go swimming in the ocean.
Watch a movie with your brother.
Play your sports on the weekend.
Speak with old friends.
Hug your parents.

Find your love.



We grew on the field as a team,
Each pass was like knowledge from one to another,
Each tackle like a hit of the harsh reality,
Every line break like a breath of freedom,
In the scrums we felt connected,
Every ruck like a battle you knew you’d win,
A try made us feel like we belonged,
And once we won, we never felt better.
On that field you had no worries, no anxiety,
Only the urge to make your coaches and team proud.


These Moments

In the mornings we gather, same time every day
We look out the window and see nothing but grey
We should enjoy these moments, it could be worse
We could dead in the back of a hearse
One day we will look back at these moments like holy grail
The bad memories tend to disappear, the best moments prevail
Who knows, one day we might look back with tears in our eyes
Thinking back about the time of our lives

These Streets

Dublins streets is where i roam,
and also the place i call home.
Most of the time i try and fit in,
when i should be looking within.


To do what I enjoy the most
Like swimming along the Irish coast
Or playing football with my friends
And hoping the match never ends
Having a laugh with my mates at school
Not caring whether I’m considered cool
Just doing things that I enjoy
That make me feel like I’m still a boy


Beats, Rhythm, Licks and Hooks

I like beats, rhythms with piano licks and hooks.
I like albums with a story where my brain gets stuck.
i like foreign countrysides where the flowers smell off perfume.
i like to think of clothes ill buy when I get the money soon.
I like pastels colour like pink yellow and blue.
I want a room to make clothes with a foreign kind of view.


Mass Production

I’m from a place where everyone has to fit in
Where people are all clones
All the same like gnomes
If you don’t play a sport, have a fade and go drinking
Then your popularity will go sinking.
But if you like clothes and movies and books
Then nobody gives a damn
This culture is truly a plastic scam.


A Bland Year

2024, is a bland year,
everyone looking more and more like each other
on the outside and inside,
no one can be themselves
and anyone who is will slowly get put down
until they change their hair, their clothes,
their attitude and appearance,
no one has creativity anymore
and those who had potential left it all
for the competition to be the strongest, the coolest,
the most ruthless and the most “manly”
although that word has lost its meaning.


We Wear Black

So opium we only wear black
These people annoy me so much I never wanna go back

chilling in my room on my pc were never leaving that

Minecraft so goated it be making me
build like crazy staying up all night

I be feeling really hazey
Have so many dogs but I only bite they only bark.



Let it shine bright from beneath
the mask and relax into yourself.
For you are thou and thou art I,
and together we shall overcome this masquerade
from atop our mask,
and truly show our all bespite all the challanges,
we can prevail and shed our masks
at last and become who we truly are.

The Players

The players stand on the field tall
ready to give it their all
for 90 mins it’s eleven vs eleven
for some it is a heaven
where you forget about troubles
and express yourself through skill
at moments it feels like climbing a hill
football is used as an expression and escape
from all the troubles life throws

Yup lads

this is a fressstyle poem
im gonna munch up
when i go home i love school
its so cool ernestos a tool
eoin denehys a fool
devos a drool and im damos a droop
he has stacks of noop.

Wherever I may roam 

Rathfarnham will always be home.
Where the streets are so dull,
the lads are on the pull.
The lights are so dark
unlike the spark
in this young boy’s heart.


Life is

A journey‘
We’ve all different paths
Everyone has different goals ,
That they want to reach at last


Matteo and Aaron 

Are 2 inspire artist that inspire me
They go to the new era studio and find George
I think Charlie is a nice person
and they try to find him in town
and dundrum

Bold Front

Beneath the bold front,
doubts whisper low,
In the Irish breeze,
vulnerability’s glow,
Seeking solace
where secrets grow.


Waking Up

Waking up early, alarm clock rings,
Homework piled high, it’s the worst of things.
Cleaning their room, a constant chore,
Rules and curfews, they can’t ignore.

Acne breakouts, a teenage plight,
Embarrassing moments, causing them fright.
Being misunderstood, feeling alone,
Parents nagging, it’s a teenage groan.

But through it all, they’ll find their way,
Growing up, day by day.
Teenagers, they have their ups and downs,
Navigating life with smiles and frowns.


Homework piles

A dreaded sight,
Early mornings, a daily fight.
Acne woes, a stubborn foe,
Awkward moments, the status quo.

Rules and curfews, freedom’s lack,
Teenage lives, on their track.



There once was a man who ran
Until his problems hit him like a ram
He tried to hide
By putting them aside
Until he faced them like a real man