Jaundiced

Sarajevo visions
informer ditches
any forgiveness
in these Monaghan hills?

Liver fatigue
no place to go
morphine desire
in these Monaghan hills

Country west violence
lake acid stillness
aching to drink
in these Monaghan hills

Bleakness and starkness
flashes of beauty
longing for love
in these Monaghan hills

Kavanagh how are you
barbs and booze
full of bravado
in these Monaghan hills

Negative equity
load a syringe

they're hanging from trees

in these Monaghan hills

Where's that dog?
not where he's wanted
roaming the fields
in these Monaghan hills

Good Stock

It's funny being of the age
Where you meet people's sons
And end up washed
In waves
Of  bonhomie
Whiskey
Then you think back
To your parents
Going on
Ah he's from good stock
And you
You would spew
How fucking Nazi is that!

Sovereign Once Again

The Irish Times
Of Friday November 15th
Just told me
Over Annaghmakerrig tea
We'll be sovereign again
Sovereign again
So I took to the bike
Without precaution
Or credit
And I took to the hills
Where houses were boarded
Dogs barking
And pubs all closed
Village after village
Pubs were all closed.
And finally in Cootehill
In the county of Cavan
I sat for a pint
Where Charlie the taxi-man
Leaned forward
And said
A fierce amount had taken to the rope
Taken to the rope
Taken to the rope
Dangling from
Troika trees
And yet others had gone to the bottom of
Many the lake
Many the lake
Many the lake
So I swallowed my pint
Got back on my bike
Looked up the trees
Stared down the lakes
And cried out
At the top of my voice
Time after time after time again
For God's sake come back
Please Lord just come back
Do you all not know
We'll be sovereign again
Sovereign again
Get the fuck up
And out of those graves
We'll be ...
Sovereign Once Again

Annaghmakerrig

Wind howl tranquillity
blowing
the sheer beauty
of Brendan Cleary's
poems of love
and death.

How he so deftly dances
between the two.
Then there he is in the kitchen
talking lost love and new bets
over fresh baked scones.

And I
I sit here alone.
Without a horse to ride.
Or a woman
to back.

The Mask

I asked him to take off the mask
Cos it was just too scary.
Like a death door being swished open
By white-gloved concierge
All in the most chivalrous of manners
Everything so terrifyingly polite.
Then he smiled and asked
'Kevin, what mask?'
Talk about 
Going gently 
Into the night.

Bring Bank

I want to be your Bring Bank
That's all I want to be

I want to be your Bring Bank
So you can come to me
Discarded

You can come to me
Shattered

You can come to me
In pieces

Cos I want to be your Bring Bank
That's all I want to be

THERE'S A SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE

(For Eileen, Nancy and Marie Barrington)

I used to have three aunts

Now I have none

Not one.

Not a single spirited spinster left

To people those Tralee to Dingle

Hair-pin nights

Full of Harvey wall banger hillman impish tales.

Treacherous bends always leading to perfidious Albion.

And finally

Oliver.

Always Oliver.

Then with Cromwell cursed

Rousing choruses of West's Awake

Puttering into Ballyferriter roaring Blasket sound

Stopping off in O Cathain's for the one drink

Or the dozen

The bar packed

All drinking the syphillitic shillings from Haughey's island

Our King, our Berlusconi, our Napoleon

But no Elba for that Chieftain

That Royal Republican

Now you’re talking

Talking furious words

Crossing the Guinness border

Dumping the Bearla

Digging up the Crested Ten

Preparing the Red Breast.

Words as gaelige

Sharp as pikes

That no clock would mute

And no-one would call time on.

I used to have three aunts,

Now I have none.

Gone

Gone

Gone

Those glorious Edwardian feminists

All Percy French Germaine Greer Father Murphy

Not one of the three ever missing the chance

To set heather blazing.

I hope you are starting to get my point

I used to have three aunts

Now I have none

How much more proof does one need?

That there is a fucking serial killer on the loose

And the weird thing is

I just can't seem to get anyone to care.

And even I

-never short of a phrase or two -

Don't have the words

Within me

To talk about

Whom

I

Think

He

Has

His

Eye

On

Next

.

There is a serial killer on the loose.

I used to have three aunts.

Now I have none.