A Over My E

And the choir begins its chant,
Dark and ominous, ‘no you can’t’,
And the pianist plays his notes,
Playing faster to highlight the don’ts…

Dust settles in all directions,
Blame flies to begin dissections,
Now I wish to make corrections,
Time allows only reflections,
Life mocks the current situation,
Enforcing unwanted continuation,
There never was any explanation,
Just unfulfilled expectation…

Now I lay my A over my E,
And through this sound I can now see,
There is no hope for you and me,
This certitude will imprison me…

And the rain keeps on raining,
Yet the sun begins shining,
And the snow keeps on snowing,
Yet the ice begins melting,
And the weather is so confusing,
Just like me, when I’m musing,
Constantly thinking and always looking,
For an answer without the bruising…

And the choir continues their chanting,
Deep and cold, ‘no more romancing’,
And the pianist continues playing,
So fast now, he is swaying…

Yet I stop flailing around,
My feet have finally hit the ground,
Something lost has been found,
A gift for my fingers to create new sounds,
And even now I feel so much better,
Playing the notes of each and every letter,
And even as the night becomes wetter,
I know you no longer matter…

And I lay my A over my E,
And through this sound I can now see,
I don’t want hope for you and me,
As this closure will set me free…


(inspired by the Apollos Thebe instrumental piece titled AonmyE)

You Didn't Hurt Me

I sit alone in the dark,
Gauging her taunt,
I repeat questions to myself,
Hating the haunt,
I hold my head in my hands,
Knowing the undeniable,
I acknowledge the sad truth,
Describing the indescribable…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

I seek a solution in solitude,
Failing miserably,
I wish to lose all concept,
Thinking dismally,
I hope to forget everything,
Sleeping eternally,
I want to lose myself,
Sinking in dead memory…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

I scream in frustration,
Yelling incoherent things,
I close my eyes in fatigue,
Remembering ridiculous flings,
I open my eyes to the harsh reality,
Learning to let go is tough,
I recall our great times together,
Dreaming isn’t enough…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

I collapse onto my bed,
Hoping to have learned something,
I feel a feeling inside,
Knowing I’ve learned nothing,
I desire a heart of smaller size,
Blocking out everyone but I,
I want to care and feel less,
Easing the difficulty of saying goodbye…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

Why am I so susceptible?
Why is my heart bigger than me?
Why am I so upsetable?
Why is my soul struggling to be free?
Why do I always sneak a peak?
Why can’t I learn to move on?
Why do I desire so much to hear her speak?
Why can’t I accept she’s gone?

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

And what’s worse is the hurt she’d feel if she saw this…
And what’s worse is the guilt she’d feel if she saw this…
Even though she didn’t hurt me…
I’m just hurting myself…

What Do You See?

When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A man in love or a man at sea?
When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A trapped soul inside begging to be free?

Clarity of blue is clouded by loss,
Murky as the waters of Venice,
Clarity of blue is clouded by loss,
Confusion is the new Red Menace…

The battle rages in Milan,
Entrapped amidst the industrialisation,
The battle rages in Milan,
External battles bring exacerbation…

The people on the train concern individually,
Relativity in five different languages,
The people on the train concern individually,
Italian has its advantages…

Churches and architecture offer no solace,
Paintings portray a time long gone,
Churches and architecture over no solace,
Music conveys feelings living on…

Men with pigeons act remorselessly,
Preying on communication barriers,
Men with pigeons act remorselessly,
No distraction for heart broken carriers…

Escape to history’s home brings a welling,
Emotion builds and breaks,
Escape to history’s home brings a welling,
Love always gives and takes…

The city of masks cannot hide the truth,
The beating can be seen in my eyes,
The city of masks cannot hide the truth,
There is no escaping the fabricated lies…

When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A man in love or a man at sea?
When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A trapped soul inside begging to be free?

One Hundred and Ninety Words

One hundred and ninety words are used to tell me what I’ve feared for months,
One hundred and ninety words are used to tell me what one word could easily have told,
One hundred and ninety words confirm I’ve been chasing a shadow all this time,
One hundred and ninety words destroy any lingering hope living in the dreams of a deserted heart…

Months of mind games draw to a close,
The dust settles and the outcome emerges,
Dreams and fantasy play on my mind
As I hope for the fairytale ending;
The first forty-eight words appear on the screen,
Telling me what I’ve long since known,
Her time in solitude has reaped many rewards
While hidden complications prevent any commitments;
The next ninety-three words continue the story,
Telling of the laziness that now occupies her soul,
She has no interest in pursuing the matter,
Insisting the equation is too complex to even consider;
The last forty-nine words lavish praise on me,
Saying my ability and personality are not in question,
While also apologising for her reluctance to take a dive,
‘You just haven’t found the right person yet’;
In all, one hundred and ninety words were typed,
Authenticating that my grasp was not only too weak
But also that my target never existed,
Her feelings died a long time ago;
Shadows, out of reach, shrink and vanish,
Hope, fading away, flickers and dies,
Dreams, hazy and fuzzy, disappear,
Reality, harsh and cruel, returns;
One hundred and ninety words bring me back to the start again,
But not without one last fond gaze toward the past
That occupied the present for such a long time,
Memories aren’t reality, a lesson that has taken a long time to sink in…

One hundred and ninety words were used to tell me what I’ve feared for months,
One hundred and ninety words were used to tell me what one word could easily have told,
One hundred and ninety words confirmed I’d been chasing a shadow all this time,
One hundred and ninety words destroyed any lingering hope living in the dreams of a deserted heart…

One hundred and ninety words give me the closure I needed so long ago…
Now it’s time to start letting go.

Which Way?

Is this all I’m able to give,
a collection of sad stories
that make people wonder
how it is I smile so wide?
Is this all I’m capable of,
writing my feelings down
and typing them up for the world to see,
even while knowing they’re all
just destined for the rubbish bin?
Is this worth it,
writing about nothing but doom and gloom,
when perspective should have taught me
the value of what I have?
Have I failed him
by not learning from the decision he took,
the consequences it brought
and the questions it left unanswered?
Have I failed everyone
by not confiding in them the truth
of the battles I fight in the dark,
by not telling them,
‘yes, his plan is my plan,
our thoughts align in our choice of demise’?
Am I being selfish,
for seemingly taking advantage of a writing utensil
to glorify the poor state of mind
I have fallen into for no legitimate reason?
Am I being unfair
to all the people who I have, or haven’t,
written about over the years,
and to all those I will write about in the future?
Where does it all end,
this futile game of cat and mouse
with the people in my life
and the storm inside?
How do I know when to stop
the madness of the deprecation,
the use and abuse of the pen
and the obsession with a past
that should remain where it sits in time?
What do I do,
do I say farewell to everyone
and dig myself a grave next to the Big Man’s,
or do I fight a battle that can’t be won
and die on my feet, not in the air?

In the end, which way is bravest in the eyes of everyone
and less pathetic to the eyes of myself?

The Mocking

Blind to reality,
That’s when life plays tricks,
You think things have changed,
Only to realise they’re actually the same;
It’s too late now,
A forward movement has blocked
A path that seemed barred,
But was only hidden;
Now the feelings of all
Are thrown carelessly into the air,
While I sit and watch them fall,
Trying to choose whose to catch
And whose to let smash;
Time was long spent
Searching for the thing
To help me forget,
But when I found it,
I just wanted to remember again;
Now I stand at a crossroads,
The choice seems to mock me,
Go down a road that’s a certain dead end,
Or go down a familiar path
That may not be open to me,
What do I do?

I sleep and dream of a place
Where things might actually go back to how they were,
I walk into this imagined place,
And there she stands, centre of it all,
Enticing me with her beckoning finger
And her shining eyes;
I get to the centre, to where everyone’s gaze
Is attentively and unwaveringly fixed;
We smile at each other and our eyes close,
The kiss I’ve been longing for is so close now
I can almost taste it;
Yet, just as I wait for our lips to press passionately,
I feel her vanish from my grasp,
I re-open my eyes and am horrified at her disappearance;
I look around, gripped by panic,
This is not how dreams are meant to be,
The room filled to capacity, with faces towering over me, either side,
Is a wall of noise, of jeers and manic laughter;
One by one, recognisable faces appear in the wall,
The faces of those I thought were close to my heart,
And then, I see her face, laughing at me,
Joining in the mocking of my weakness,
Whilst shouting down at me,
‘You’ll never touch these lips again.’

Throwing Stones

Throwing stones to pass the time,
Turning each stone over as every thought races by,
The smoothness of the stone brings an envious feeling,
The raggedness of everything needs soothing…

Watching the stones skim across the water,
Only breaking the surface when momentum is lost,
The pace of the stone brings a jealous stare,
The safety of everything needs risking…

Witnessing the sinking stone lose its fight to float,
Falling to the murky depths of the polluted river,
The sinking of the stone brings a nervous anticipation,
The obscurity of everything needs unveiling…

Sitting by the river until the sun gives up the day,
Throwing stone after stone in search of a new meaning,
The repetition of everything brings a crashing splash,
The sameness of events needs something different…

Washing Away

I find myself on a beach, twilight fading,
Lying back, facing the sea,
The water washes against my feet as I await the dawn…

I gaze gently at the horizon, a smile across my lips,
Safe in the knowledge of one thing,
My emancipation is absolute and immediate…

I think back to the months passed, a tear forming,
Knowing that they represent wasted time,
It rolls slowly down my face, washing away with the tide…

I sit up suddenly, as the sky begins to lighten,
Wondering when again I would share this with someone,
I stop wondering, as ‘when’ is ‘when’ and no longer matters…

I notice now something new, an inner calm,
Windless, just like the morning I behold,
Not a grain of sand touches the clarity above…

I marvel to myself, while taking some sand,
As I know I have changed for the better of us all,
I loosely let the sand slip, just like an hour glass…

I watch the sunrise, until the day is in motion,
The tide has fallen back and I know it is time,
A new start awaits in pastures old…

Finally.

(Washing Away was published in DCU Book Society's 2009 Creative Writing Anthology along with Loveable Rogue - to be published two years running was good enough, but to get two into one anthology took me by surprise, to be honest).

Loveable Rogue

He spends his nights marauding and masquerading,
Absolute ossification allows an escape into a world where he cannot be hurt,
In the process, an image of himself as a joker is projected,
His drunken alter ego dives into oblivion and creates a persona of arrogance,
Leading many to believe he is heartless;
Years are spent living this life, drunken blur after drunken blur,
Deceiving himself into thinking it was all he wanted,
While inside, a battle between what is and what he wants to be
Rages and destroys the notions he once lived so comfortably and happily by;
A craving for a past framed only in memory
Devours his mind night and day,
A desire for things out of reach at present but possible in the future
Consumes his thoughts morning and evening,
And a wish to be something more than he is in the eyes of those nearest to him
Burns inside every second of every minute of every lonesome hour,
Accompanied by reminders of events gone by that have shaped the person he is now;
All he wants is a change, a chance to start anew,
To lose the persona he hides behind and to lose those he no longer holds so dear,
And to regain former glories that now gather dust
In the dark recesses of a mind drowning in a lack of comprehension…

(this is one of two poems published in DCU Book Society's 2009 anthology - to be published two years running is something I'm proud of, though if a person called Anto Gallagher ever claims to be the loveable rogue and, by association, my muse just ignore him).

Sit

The cycle continues relentlessly,
Everything knows its being is futile,
Yet it lives and breaths still,
While I sit in denial;
Some days are better than others,
But the height at which I fly,
And the speed at which I fall,
Is enough to make them all cry;
Two days at a time,
My energy knows no bounds,
The two days after
My body and soul make no sounds;
Inconsolable is too harsh,
Approachable is not harsh enough,
Indescribable is the one,
No description, no contact with love;
While they all live on,
Ignoring problems long gone,
I sit alone, turning things over,
Thinking about where it all went wrong…

It’s her that has me this way,
I sit solemnly, looking back
At memories framed forever,
Yet also irretrievably packed;
We wrote for each other once,
I constantly re-read her piece,
Wondering if it was ever true
And how it was we came to cease;
I miss her more day-by-day,
Living in the past as time passes,
My dreams offer no refuge,
They are also in a state of chassis;
Now I sit in solitude and watch
As her life unfolds without me,
I imagine myself in her new memories,
An inclusion which would set me free;
If only she could see me now,
Gazing from afar, yet doing nothing,
She would think me a creep, a stalker
And a coward, for not doing something…

And now I sit by myself,
Engaging in torture night and day
Over things I can’t change,
And things one should never say;
Letting go is the hardest part
Made even harder by not wanting to,
Even I know four months is long enough,
But I still don’t know what to do;
All I can do is one useless thing,
Sit in isolation and brood always,
All my time is either spent this way,
Or is spent pretending, these days;
And all the while I convince myself
That even if she knew the situation,
Care would evade her like the unworthy,
As her future is planned without my desperation;
So I sit digesting the truth late into the morning,
Wishing for time to do what it doesn’t,
To stop, reverse and bring me back
To that moment when I should’ve said “we shouldn’t”;
I sit silently waiting for the instance of clarity
That will snap me out of this obsolete obsession,
I sit with my eyes closed until that relieving moment
When I repossess, or force a confession…

Rule the World

Night swallows the misapprehensions of the day,
Monotony looms on either side,
With me the only shining light…

The drawn curtains stare down at the abyss,
Circling around the flickering glow,
I brighten the depths of the once bottomless pit…

Clarity of shadows reigns above,
The silence of everything else shrinks into the sky,
As the sound of my voice breaking rises…

Then the stars burst into life,
Beside a full moon laughing at the lives of mortals,
While also being a friend for the lonely to talk to…

Solidarity brings a strange significance,
Walking turns to running and then becomes skipping,
As things newly formed soak up the wet pavement…

Street lamps glow to show the way,
Destiny’s course is held as the winds stop,
Time ticks in this new present and I wonder…

Is this what it feels like to rule the world?


(I was listening to Viva la Vida by Coldplay a lot around this time)

Regardless of Everything

Two weeks that were only a distraction
Fade away with the freeze of winter,
To be replaced by a thickening haze,
The return of the constant pang in my head
And of the ceaseless rhythm of my heart;
Sleep is impossible to come by now,
I’m ever alert for no apparent reason,
Running on power that should have
Diminished long ago but hasn’t
Due to the feelings still living inside;
On those brief occasions that my eyes
Do shut and take me away from the real world,
I find myself in a place that replicates my conscience,
I can’t escape the truth,
And I can’t shape the circumstance to fit my needs;
Now my unused energy and frustration with everything build up,
Reaching breaking point in the cell of my home
And the prison of this county;
My mind is split in two, between what I want
And what I know is for the best,
For my feelings are too overbearing
To live with day in, day out;
Subjection to a barrage of x’s and meaningless messages
Is not what’s best for either of us,
Yet the mere thought of such messages
Sends me into a world of bliss,
A world I will never know;
This is both here and there,
Everything is relative at the end of it all,
And when the time comes,
The time when we are forced to part ways,
Whether we are friends or lovers,
We will smile and recognise each others’ souls
As having found its counterpoint in the other,
Regardless of what’s gone before
And regardless of what’s still to come…

Look

Look at the lone red car flanked by eight taxi plates on Eden Quay,
Look at the people marching on Leinster House,
Look at the men cleaning up the mess of the city,
Look at the queue stretching from Cumberland Street to the queue on Gardiner Street,
Look at Beaumont’s E&A room crowded with people who can’t get a bed,
Look at the rising houses that will never be filled,
Look at the rusting closed shutters lining either side of Abbey Street,
Look at the murky green surface of the River Liffey,
Look at the increasing number of men carrying home the morning shopping,
Look at ‘For Sale’ sign after ‘For Sale’ sign,
Look at the one 2009 license plate on the roads,
Look at regeneration and reformation in all the wrong places,
Look at the overcrowded pubs in Temple Bar,
Look at the youthful innocence spread throughout the clubs,
Look at the news and learn about more job losses in Waterford,
Look at the picketers abuse the scabs,
Look at all the drunken fights and spilled blood,
Look at the screaming woman and the cornered taxi driver,
Look at all the front rooms filled with people at midnight,
Look at the raised fists and hear the calls for change,
Look all around you…

And you can clearly see a country on its knees…

So

So permanence takes its horrid form,
So realisation makes an inevitable appearance,
So jealousy rears its ugly head,
So feelings begin their reluctant clearance,
So timing wreaks of poverty,
So hearts show their frailty,
So eyes attempt to defy emotion,
So everything ends in destiny,
So this way or that makes no difference,
So here or there make no time,
So now and never are no longer options,
So time proves it's simply divine,
So a screeching halt is called to proceedings,
So a sudden stop is forced on life’s path,
So a sad surrender is made to will,
So an attempt to retrieve is made in the aftermath,
So salvaging produces red shards,
So pieces are put back together again,
So falling apart is the sign of a new beginning,
So questions are asked, like ‘where and when’?

(written in Milan)

I Hope This Never Ends

Walking on clouds,
Home of the rising sun,
Moments past and present flicker in memory,
What’s to come hovers alongside;
A blanket laid out beneath us,
Glowing orange and red
(Matching the beating inside)
As I imagine yells that never existed,
‘Please come back home’;
Swirling turrets of my new found peace
Wisp and break at the slightest of touches,
The creaking of the past trying to invade
Disturbs thoughts and dreams otherwise futile;
And I close my eyes in false pretence,
Wishing for a sleep that will never come,
And I see my desires carved inside my eyelids,
The reality so harsh, yet so far away;
Underneath the layers of snow white mass
Rests the surface tension of the sea,
Where the truth lurks, waiting to strike;
And the clouds begin to part,
Revealing my destiny to all witnesses,
So I keep my eyes closed,
Reliving again and again a fantasy which defies reality,
And even as I fall to fate,
I hope this never ends…

And even as I crash into the sea…
I hope this never ends…


(written in Milan)

Heart of the Sun

We head for the heart of the sun,
Knowing returning is as futile as continuing,
We head for the heart of the sun,
Knowing the snow below will be our home,
We head for the heart of the sun,
Knowing the intensity will split us forever,
We head for the heart of the sun,
Knowing the tears in our eyes will disappear,
We head for the heart of the sun,
Knowing it’s our last chance at making something…

We arrived at the heart of the sun…
And we said our goodbyes…

(written in Milan)

Believe/The Light

Melting snow beneath my feet,
Italian night sky overhead,
I stand alone, centre of a square,
A church stands ominously on my right,
Trees lean toward me, surrounding the square,
Four lights occupy each of the sides;
Of the four, three shine unwaveringly,
Breaking the darkness of the truth
Yet not removing its hurt,
But one burned out bulb fights to light,
Flickering from off to on and back again…

Believe in the unbelievable,
Light the burned out bulbs,
Remember those no longer here,
Watch for their signs and signals…

I am drawn towards the battling bulb,
The unnatural fighting characteristics it exhibits
Are closer in resemblance to supernatural behaviour,
The further away I stand,
The weaker the flickering becomes,
I stand in front of the bulb for minutes
That seem futile and wasted,
Yet the light gains strength all the time,
Getting stronger as my belief increases
That it is him who is fighting to tell me something,
That it is him telling me he is still here…

Believe in the unbelievable,
Light the burned out bulbs,
Remember those no longer here,
Watch for their signs and signals…


(written in Milan)

Six Years On

Given the chance again,
I’d do it all the same,
But either way,
I’m just outplayed,
Given the chance again,
You’d do it all the same,
But either way,
Your welcome is outstayed…

Or so you felt.

Only to roll back time,
Football nine till nine,
But your boots are hung up,
Dust gathers on mine,
Only to roll back time,
Celtic rain or shine,
But your jerseys are boxed up,
Your heart’s not mine…

My cards were dealt.

It used to take its toll,
Being guardian of the goal,
But not anymore,
Living with your soul,
It used to take its toll,
Being guardian of the goal,
But not anymore,
Living another role…

My knees are knelt.

Before your grave,
Bad memories I stave,
But regardless of the past,
They make me a slave,
Before your grave,
My hands you crave,
But regardless of the future,
I feel pride’s wave…

And so I wept.

Watch me rise and rise,
See the fight in my eyes,
Doubts subside this time,
As I bring tears from the skies,
Watch me rise and rise,
Hear the pride in your cries,
Doubts subside this time,
As I bring tears to your eyes…

And so we parted.
Six years on.

Warning

Bus stop haunting,
Sheltering rain,
Blank gaze,
Sudden pain,
“Me heart…”

Bulging eyes,
Keeling over,
Hands outstretched,
Veins pumping,
“Me heart…”

Heavy breathing,
Stumbling aimlessly,
Blood flowing
(angrily fast),
“Me heart…”

People staring,
No concern there,
Judgemental thoughts,
Unknowing,
“Me heart…”

Life flashing,
Dreams dying,
Pain doubling,
Fear growing,
“Me heart…”

Everything stops,
Everything’s dark,
Opens eyes,
Noises and traffic,
“Me heart…”

Lives.
For now.


(walking home from football training with Grange Woodbine one night and I passed a man having breathing difficulties and chest pains at the bus stop near the fire station on the Raheny Road - myself and others tried to help, he seemed okay in the end)

Fix

You said yes
And then said no;
We were one
When you said go.
I'd say where
And you'd say when;
Not anymore,
Never again.
I felt love
But you felt less;
Why that was
Is anyone's guess.
I said dance
And you said nay,
Yet we danced
The other day.
Things have changed,
They're not the same;
Now we're playing
A cruel game.
Our eyes met,
Tried a kiss,
But my feelings
You just dismiss.
What went wrong?
Talk to me –

How can I fix
What I can't see?