A Place to Be
Imagine a place where you can be yourself.
Where you are never judged for who you are.
Where nobody is too busy to care.
Where people come to life.
Skyscrapers stand tall,
They can see, hear and remember everything.
If only they could talk.
It changes from summer to winter in a matter of hours.
The biggest, brightest stars are born.
Where people dream.
And where any one person can succeed.
It is the fear of young children,
Playing tricks on their young minds,
Running wild, wandering blind
To the dangerous side of the unseen before.
The clothes positioned on the rocking chair,
Making it seem like a man in the corner of the room towering over him,
After all its only clothes… But not to him.
To him it’s a demon from hell arriving to fetch his soul.
His shoes are monster’s hands slowing scratching the floorboard,
Waiting to pounce and strike,
The hat hanging from the closet,
The gloves on the desk and…. His imagination won’t stop.
He can’t sleep,
Goose bumps on his arms while shaking with fear under the duvet.
The darkness is not what he should be fearing,
It is his imagination,
And the endless, unspeakable possibilities.
Day to Day
A world without climate change, is what the ocean dreams
No plastic in the ocean, is what the ocean dreams
A world with no fishing, is what the ocean dreams
No ice falling from the ice, is what the world dreams
A world respecting the ocean, is what the world dreams
Day to day, we are destroying the aquatical animal reign
Day to day, it falls more ice from the poles
Day to day, people is throwing more and more plastic
We are at the moment to do something
Is the moment to change, there won’t be a return
The times you were up
The times you were down
The times you’ve forgotten
To subdue the frown
The times it destroyed
The times it made easy
The time I left it
The damage I did
The times I ran
The times it caught me
The times I chased
What was running from me
This time I cannot forget
This time my guilt is too much
This time there is freedom in a knot on the roof
These walls remember, they don’t need proof
Sunken ships full of battle dints.
The untyped lips that sunk those ships.
And bullet holes with gunshot dents.
The treasures buried upon the sandy flats.
Where it will sit for years, just relax and splat.
Times are lost at the bottom of the sea.
And this is what dead sailors see.
The shadows sing their hushed goodbyes,
My mind drifts, I cannot help but wonder why,
It is time, the moment after six long years,
Searching the faces of my fellow peers,
The goose bumps on my skin stop rising,
Fear lingers into the position of hiding,
There is no denying that it is one big race,
The sounds of ruffing and tugging from the lads in joy,
I say goodbye to my life as a schoolboy,
As my life as a college man awaits,
This is where it ends.
The place where you play with the ball.
All the people call it the wall.
The wall remembers when you go there to play.
The wall is not like the people, the wall is going to stay.
If you’re sad, the wall is there.
If you’re mad, the wall is there.
Because the wall, the big wall where you play,
Is the unique thing is going to stay.
Nuño Gonzalez de la Pisa
There are Things
There are things, you cannot change,
Things, you cannot know.
So take it, how it is,
Take it, how you know.
Be happy, with everything you have,
Happy, with everything, you know.
The children screaming
The 6th year classrooms
Oh so quite
They know the LC
Is coming soon trust me,
But for the other years
It’s all jokes
They don’t care about their future
Until it’s too late
But if they are smart enough by 3rd year
They will be ok
Students finding out they are dyslexic
Have no idea of their future
The students smoking electronic cigs
That they don’t know
What they’re doing to their body
Knowing that it will someday kill them
If they are not careful.
The Butterfly House
The teachers seemed like giants
I remember holding back tears when I got into trouble.
Being scared of the big kids.
Running around, playing with flowers.
Waving goodbye to my parents at 9 o clock.
Long division was the hardest thing ever
Getting tired of being in the same classroom all the time
Impatiently waiting to go to secondary school
Never knowing what was to come
Waving goodbye to the simplest time of my life.
Leaving the Butterfly House behind.
These gloomy days and lonely nights
And year long days December
The lack of sleep
The tears you weep
Is what these walls remember
The cold rainy nights of Glasgow
The roars of the green brigade
As the lights beamed onto the pitch
I heard the city rage
The Celtic Bhoys battling for their pride
Against the mighty Catalans of the blaugrana
In parkhead where the dreams of the Bhoys came true
They sang their green hosanna.
Dean Markey Darcy
What dreams of storms, sailors fear
Boats kept up by streams of tears
Fear of failing and fear of death
Has kept me sailing through this this mess
A long, lost message that I kept bottled up
Cause now I see sadness as more than a half empty cup
Every morning I am at 9
Is where I will spend 41 thousand
7 hundred and 60 hours of my life
Where I learn and read and write and stress
And chat and make and create
Where I practice and try and cry and lie
In a classroom I will be
With 20 others my age
They scribble and doodle and draw and paint
We will spend 41 thousand
7 hundred and 60 hours of our lives
If they could talk
You could not imagine the things they would say
They could get you in so much trouble
You would be easily embarrassed
They would expose every test you cheated on
Every teacher you made fun of
They could tell everyone how the slagging left you scared
Everyone would know your darkest secrets
That special someone you had a crush on
You would beg and plead them not to utter a word
But they do not listen
Now everyone knows your darkest secret
Apart from you
Listening to the whispers
Of a world which is never deaf
A witness to judgment
Of people who are never blind
I used to care for them
But I have no more time to waste
Now these walls remember
I do as well, and I forgive
But my scars are so deep
Even though writing helps
I hate these words that keep me alive
I hate these words that prevent me from dying.
inspired by the theatre writer, Sarah Kane.
This is where I come from,
This is how I am.
When all the lights are dimmed,
When nobody wants you.
There is your perfect space,
There is your perfect dream.
I fought a bear
And hit him with a chair,
And I was aware that the bear
Was struggling for air,
As I tried to prepare myself to regain my health,
And me struggling to walk up my lane with a very sore chest pain,
My day was insane because I had fought a bear with lots of chest hair
I was once a member
On this day in November
I saved a girl called heather
She couldn’t breathe
She was gasping for air
I could she was being jumped
By a biker bear
I got quite a scare when
I went over and tugged at his hair.
I grabbed him and tied him to a chair.
As I went over to the girl
She did a little twirl.