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Saturday, June 20, 2009


Not to endure like a needy old man,
ears full of hair and shouting

at the bare-chested boys
to get off your lawn.

Not to hang on like the wheezing
old woman who proves

such an annoyance clambering
onto the bus. To die

as you’ve lived,
a yellow-bellied dog,

stomach full of sawdust and scraps,
between the security fence

and the flyover, thoughtfully,
out of harm’s way.


Totalfeckineejit said...

That is a great poem.And a pretty neat photo too.Is it a volkswagen polo, or a Fiat Uno? Either way,I've never seen them looking so good.

Mark Granier said...

And here's one in a flyover jacket:

Desmond Swords said...

Life's shit, then you get battered to death at the bus stop by a gang of 15 year old girls and their drug dealing boyfriends high on drugs - shot in the head if you're lucky as the wrong targeted victim of a gangland drive-by in Drimnagh, stood at the LUAS with a few cans of Druid cider, just mindin yer own business.