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The Truth

April 17, 2018

The truth is, I have always hoped that we would find a way back to the Mill,
to meet in the middle,
to go back home.

 

The way is clear;
the way is known.

 

The truth is, I am far more given to fantasy than reason would allow,
and in my dreams, things are always as they were,
although the Mill is not a mill,
and the time is neither exactly then or now.

 

But now I find, back here in the real world,
where the living go on living
and where people go on meeting,
time may have passed that I did not feel passing.

 

The way is somewhat fainter,
and the path is overgrown.

 

These maps are mine,
these ways back home.
Leave me pass the time,
and I will feel content to walk them even if I walk alone.

 

I know not now what I wander for,
but the truth is, of course,
I wandered just as aimlessly before;
I simply know that now.

 

 

The Fantasy

April 17, 2018

I will build a house
with grey walls and yellow daffodils
and in ten years, you will come and see
that I have built a home

and perhaps you will stay.

And If Anyone Should Ever Say That You Have Been a Fool

December 25, 2017
tags: ,

And if anyone should ever say that you have been a fool,

you may tell them,

 

Though it is dangerous to love

(and in what peril you stood then or now, only you can say),

there is no danger in having been and being loved.

Poem: A Little Slice of Ireland (or “Says She to He”)

September 10, 2016

“Would you be free to go together?” says he.

 

“Always,” says she. “I always save that dance for you.”

 

(It’s become a ritual, you see.)

 

“Save me another,” says he, “for when the marches no longer need marchin’.”

 

Says she to he, “Absofuckinglutely.”

 

 

 

Upcoming: Annual March for Choice, September 24th

Assembling from 13:30 @ Garden of Remembrance, Dublin.

 

For more, see: AbortionRightsCampaign.ie

For info on the Global Day of Action for Access to Safe and Legal Abortion, please see: wgnrr.org

On a Plane

September 16, 2015

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

She’s on a plane.

Day Two…

Poem: Something Must be Done

June 6, 2015
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– Something must be done.

– Something certainly must be done;

someone should do something.

– Someone ought to;

something ought to be done.

– Someone will do something,

then something will have been done.

– Good, something had to be done.

Untitled Poem #1

May 17, 2015

In the midst of a storm of words, a tempest conjured to confuse and cast asunder,

One can only hope that these convulsions are the death throes of a sick animal.

Not the proverbial swan song of dignity and grace, but a rabid beast, with deadly disease.

As the time draws near, the sound grows louder, and hope is a poor understudy to action.