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

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

Tuaim Inbhir
January 14, 2013

No faux-Tudor blight might outdo

My ivied Tuaim Inbhir bedsit

Luminous stars lining

Its sun and its moon.


Gobbán Construction turned the sod

But you know how that went

And someone’s God

Thatched it in the boom.


Bullets cannot touch me there,

Rain falls past

My bright orchard

Where no fences loom.




Translated from anonymous 9th Century Monastic Verse

Suibne Geilt.


Mairiuclán hi Túaim barr edin Inbir

ni lán techdais bes ssestu

cona retglannaib aréir

cona gréin cona escu


Gobban durigni insin

conecestar duib astoir

mu chridecan dia du nim

is hé tugatoir rodtoig.


Tech inna fera flechod

maigen na áigder rindi

soilsidir bid hi lugburt

ose cen udnucht nimbi.


5intheface – 14/01/2013

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