The Fxxking Titanic
March 26, 2013

Dave Lordan – 26/03/2013

Sound & Editing by Eamon Crudden

Ferry Town
March 2, 2013

A street of meagre terraces,

Clinging to the lough mouth

By destitute resolve.

Surviving cot and bothy

And the industry of brick clay.

Straddling the river,

Without bridge.

Without water.


One day they scattered the people

And their ways,

A hinterland in every wind.

‘They’re ferry people you know?’

A porous row monument left

To crumble through my childhood

And sink beneath the bungalows,

Peppering soggy points and quarters

From the Largy to Far Ballyscullion.




5intheface – 02/03/2013

The Liberties in the 21st Century
February 23, 2013

Come all you lads and lassies and good folk from the Coombe
And listen very carefully while I sing this soulful tune
I’ve come to praise the Liberties both the old and the new
I’ve come to praise the people who are honest, pure and true.

Now you have all heard of Zozimus who said his poems out loud
He never failed to entertain or titillate the crowd
But he never had a microphone to harangue the populace as they passed
Today he’d have less trouble, he could make a pod-cast.

And Billy-in-the Bowl who got about with ease
Although he had no legs and was riddled with disease
Today he’d have a wheel-chair all powered by batteries
To strangle all the quicker in the sweet old Liberties.

And Bang-Bang used the Buses with a large key in his hand
And frightened all the children in their native land
Today he’d let off fire-works as he’d ride along the Luas
But he couldn’t jump off quickly so he’d have to douse the fuse.

And what of Johnny forty-coats who was terrified of the cold
As he rambled round the neighbourhood, his story often told
Today he’d have an anorak made of pure Teflon
With a heat-pack in each pocket so easy to switch on.

And what of Robert Emmet, our greatest Rebel from the past
Who escaped down Francis Street when the die was cast
Would he have joined the Peace Process and played the moderate card?
Or would he have joined Bruce Willis and remained a die-hard ?

And the dealers all on Thomas Street who used to shout their prices
Now are much more worried now about the Euro Zone Crisis
And the constant dipping value of their properties in Spain
While there’s nothing can be done here to stop this bloody rain.

The changes that are coming, the changes that have passed
Are a source of much confusion to this ever changing cast
But whatever the confusion, the future will shine bright
If, like the people of the Liberties, we treat each other right.



Riposte – 23/02/2012



Toothbrush In A Poem
February 16, 2013

Daily grind, daily scrub, daily girl, daily gob

The sweet, sickly squeeze of paste, the morning news

The weary, ageing, sadding face

Did you ever do this?

Point the pasted brush, drag and release its bristles

At the mirror?

Just for the heck of it

A spray of insurrection

A rule inverted, a ritual undone

The funny chaos of minty dots

A small revolution reflected

Back at one


MediaBite – 16/02/2013

Kinds of Love
February 14, 2013

The kind we give
The kind we take
The kind we fall in
The kind we make.

Love forever
Love for now
Love unintended
Love !… wow 🙂

Delightful confusion
Infinitely clear…
Familiar mystery,
Definitively dear.

C. Flower – 14/02/2013

February 12, 2013

I’m happy when it rains,
It purifies the land and my soul,
It is the never ending chore of nature,
In the yard, raindrops splash the ballet,
As they explode on puddled stage,
While on hillsides streams are forming,
Quickening to merge at the river with thunderous roar.
Rocks tumble, clash and tear at the valley floor,
As they are ushered to the sea,
To be displayed there at the ebb,
Like a mighty army.

Trow – 12/02/2013

January 31, 2013

Anger written on a page
enchantment shattered,
sense scattered

Ink, ravenous with rage, hacks and scratches
till hearts, scythed and asunder,
deaden, stiffen,
nerves shriven.

Imagine that!
As a child to feel
and breathe such cancer
Tear your insides inside out,

Bone to bat,
bat to back
and back again.

A grotesque dancer
On a stage where you have no part
except to simply suffer and wait
In hope that all this woe will soon abate
And curtain falls
and violence exasperate.

Leaving me alone but lonely
alive but dead inside
to wait

and wait for scar blackened heart to revive
and adult squirmers to squirm in hate
to feel what I had felt
black-strap leather of a belt
brass-cankered bat across their bones
meeting the meaning of madness in their moans

And exult at their discomfort
Stare in my face – my face of mirth
Carved and coloured from their owed-dirt
Fashion now their very fruitful hurt

But for what is this hurt worth
If payment is revengeful spurt
And anger boils – still boils inside –
My loves and hopes away…. They died.

Andrew49 – 31/01/2013

A Life In Vain
January 26, 2013

The weight of the World borne on Atlas shoulders.

King Canute manoeuvering to hold back the tide.

While a sea of torment constantly eroded basalt-like legs.

Day in day out the relentless weathering of a finite body.

Until at last once mighty legs crumbled into the sea.

Vanquished defences dispersed on the tide.

The World shrugged as the routed Atlas disappeared.

Neither Earth nor sky had caved in, his all was for naught.

Holding onto not up, Atlas’s fight had been with perception.

His never-ending struggle ending with his dead end life.



Shaadi – 26/01/2013

The Truth Famine
January 21, 2013

Great Hunger not Great Famine,
History distorted.
Enough food then, exported;
Enough money now, extorted.

D O’F – 21/01/2013

January 20, 2013

Sick, a confused heaviness over me,
A definite fondness but a feverish haze after that.
Like an excited moth when a light’s turned on
In a dull room.
Drawn to it fluttering and not altogether sure,
But lost and empty once switched off.
Why am I the moth? And you pretty fluorescent light
That teasingly turned off.
Now left heart heavy wondering, in a halfway house,
Whether or not the bulb’s blown.

broken lightbulb

Fraxinus – 20/01/2013

Composed, December 27th 2005

%d bloggers like this: