Good men muse on murder, Bad men spill the blood. Evil feeds the flower, Beauty feeds the bud.
Love is all you need, Or so I have been told, Yet lovers often bleed, And sometimes end up cold.
Harpist in the cotton clouds, Answer this for me: How do you bear the tedium Of immortality?
The wise never worship, No heroes they claim, No wish to play pawn In a perilous game.
Friends A knock on the door A smile Shoes on the floor. Truth Unwise to withhold A look Stories unfold. Time Relentless it flows How long? Nobody knows. Friends A reason to fight A smile Beckons the light.
Australian Property Bubble
After a conversation with a friend a few months ago, I started doing some research on property prices in Australia, and other indicators of a property bubble. The article below is the result. I can’t guarantee the authority of the linked articles and I don’t claim any authority myself, just an interest in informing people. This article was sent to several media outlets to no avail so...
Rejection of reason In favour of fervour Seasons each fruit With a fictional flavour, Until every meal Has a mythical taste, And the body is full But the mind lies in waste.
It’s no surprise That eyes like ours Should see the skies Consumed by stars.
The Role Of The Media In Propping Up Ireland’s...
“The overall argument is that the Irish media are part and parcel of the political and corporate establishment, and as such the news they convey tend to reflect those sectors’ interests and views. In particular, the Celtic Tiger years invol…ved the financialisation of the economy and a large property bubble, all of it wrapped in an implicit neoliberal ideology. The media, embedded...
The Moral Life of Babies
The aspect of morality that we truly marvel at — its generality and universality — is the product of culture, not of biology. There is no need to posit divine intervention. A fully developed morality is the product of cultural development, of the accumulation of rational insight and hard-earned innovations. The morality we start off with is primitive, not merely in the obvious sense that it’s...
Anxiety: a disease of unease. Symptoms: racing heart, chasing mind, unrefined expressions, undeserved impressions. Treatment: brave the first wave, realise with open eyes, everyone is in disguise.
Democracy and tyranny Are polls apart, you know, Don’t entertain conspiracy, It’s safer down below. Work hard, pay all your taxes, And please ignore the stink Of those who sold your future With a handshake and a wink.
Seagulls in the wind, Black against the sky, Charcoal on the canvas, Sketching as they fly. Fool upon the shore, Smitten by the sight Of elegance ephemeral, Artistry in flight.
Time softens the skin, Death softens the glow, Life softens the mind, Love softens the blow.
A Better Road
Parents, Cast away your mould, Try as well you may, You cannot build a model child, They are not made of clay. Children, Brave the boundaries Of this ancient code, Reflect upon your choice of peers To build a better road.
New EP Recording Update
We’ve finished recording for two of the songs and the third will be completed very soon. It will be a 3-song EP and the songs are: - Brixton - The Spell - Nothing to Declare Looking forward to sharing it with you. :)
Winter breezes stalking Spring, Winter voices eulogise, Summer lovers smile and sing, Every season lives and dies.
Advertisers sermonise, Prophets profiteer, Drowning passive dreamers Beneath a flood of fear.
Whose hands stitched these seams? It needs to be known, Which wounds we have caused, Which wounds we have sewn. Whose hands stitched these seams? It needs to be learned, Which dreams have been born, Which dreams have been burned.
Diamond planets spinning, Jewel wearers grinning, Reflections of oneself Upon a cosmic shelf.
Rain Dancers and Thievery
I wrote a piece in 2010 called ‘The Rain Dancers’, about the bailout of high-level gamblers with the bank guarantee in Ireland, and the moral hazard involved. Looking at the situation in Cyprus, the thievery has become even more brazen. The IMF (Initiates of Milton Friedman) seem hell bent on preserving a fully deregulated money market, whatever the cost to national sovereignty and...
Regret is a mark of respect, Regret is a stain of neglect, Signposting pathways of pain: ‘Never pass this way again”.
Comfort at a cost
Wherever I may wander, In fire or in frost, I find my distant cousins: Who lives is never lost. Who learns is ever childlike, Who dreams could never host Conditional compassion, Comfort at a cost.
We, the cuckoos, Lay our eggs in Nests we did not build, Until the space is filled. We soil and clean And toil unseen, Like ants without a Queen, Apish in our fear. We will not be here long, Forever never sings, Be selfless with your song, And fly with builder’s wings.
Everyone’s an Atheist
Everyone’s an Atheist, Yes father, that means you! You don’t believe in Wotan, Osiris, Geb or Shu! You don’t believe in Imhotep, Nergal or Kubaba, Mandanu or Muati, Nammu or Nanaya. You don’t believe in Svetovid, Morana or Metzli, Or Acan: Mayan god of wine, Though you’d approve of he. You don’t believe in Achamán, Persephone or Ra, Nidaba or Athena, Metis or Minerva. Everyone’s an Atheist, Please...
Beneath the quilt
Voices pace the halls, Vying for release, Snapping at the walls, Smashing, piece by piece, The space between my dreams, The place my senses built, While I, assailed by screams, Lie still beneath the quilt.
Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in...– Charles Mackay
Born indebted, Sick, impure, Swift submission Yields the cure. Kneel before him, Cleanse your sins, Freedom ends where Faith begins.
From the pulpit
Is it hard To feel fear From the pulpit? Is it hard To see tears From the pulpit? What is sin But control And submission. What is sin But escape From contrition. Who are you To lay claim To compassion? Who are you To leave stains And blame passion! Is it hard To see truth From the pulpit? Is it hard To guard youth From the pulpit?
55 Cancri e
Astrophysicists found, Forty light years from Earth, A planet eight times The Earth’s mass and Twice its radius. Evidence backs theories Of a Carbon planet With a graphite crust And a diamond Layer underneath. Volcanoes, if present, May be spewing diamonds, Leaving mountains of Engagement ring Possibilities. Private capitalists Have begun lobbying Local congressmen For...
‘Demist My Head Freeze My Heart’ - No...
I’m back in the studio with Joey Kenny working on my next EP, due out this summer. Onwards!
RIP Freedom of the Press
The Irish Times reports: “Independent News & Media has drawn up a new editorial charter that requires journalists to get the written approval of the managing editor before writing any “sustained or repeated adversarial material concerning individuals or organisations” “Clause seven deals with “fairness” – “Journalists will strive to be fair in affording individuals or organisations the right...
The Sea of ‘We’
To have the time For surplus thought, Know the battles daily fought, Analyse with belly full The tidal push and pull, Is to betray the wish to stay Docked within a sheltered bay While foul winds blow And sailors grow Upon the sea Of ‘we’.
All art is repetition, Old age: extended youth, Unchanging, this condition, Repeat, repeat the truth!
Love in the time of Hysteria
I know where you’re going On Valentine’s Day, That Mexican restaurant Looks nice, I must say, I hope he will pay. Remember that one time He split up with you? Your status read ‘single’ And I, alone too, Thought ‘can it be true?’. I looked at your photos For the thousandth time, Imagining touching Your body sublime: Is dreaming a crime? I built up the courage To give you a ‘poke’, But I was too...
Remember conversation, One on one, face to face. Remember when we had the space To lose ourselves and choose our pace. Remember when we had the time To search for reason in each rhyme, Remember silence – unbroken - Wasteful words dissolved, unspoken. Remember children on the street, Skipping ropes and dancing feet, Remember laughing at fear, When ‘danger’ was not lurking near. ...
Wherever one goes in Ireland, a long history of violence and suffering intrudes,...– http://irishreality.wordpress.com Little Skeletons - How Ireland caused the Catholic abuse scandal by Tomás Mac Glasáin Well worth a read.