The official poetry thread

Don't forget to give your balls a good lick.
Rib removal would be needed.

Anyway, back to poetry. I have often, at the hands of US officials had my belt and shoes removed. Asked to stand to the side and had a red cordened off area circled around me.

So, there I am, in the 'special place' barefoot and holding up my trousers by the crotch. All the while, good US citizens on-boarding look me up and down like the scumbag I am.

'We don't mean to harass you. You don't look first class, you... Oh let us look up your ass you.'

This song is poetry that speaks to me.

 
That song was found up someone's ass. And here is a tip always put a lollipop up your bum for customs, they really appreciate it
This one time, at band camp:

I tried cocaine once and once only. Like I said... Try everything once. Well we overindulged and we're slaughtered for three days.

I had to get a flight back to Heathrow from JFK. The fear was prevalent. Anybody who knows cocaine knows you have a few nights of fear after coming off it.

Sniffer dogs were around. Then I remembered my Bank of Ireland atm card.

Eeeeesh.
 

Brendan Kennellyprint this page

A Man I Knew

(i.m. Patrick Kavanagh)

1
‘I want no easy grave,’ he said to me,
‘where those who hated me can come and stare,
slip down upon a servile knee,
muttering their phoney public prayer.
In the wilds of Norfolk I’d like to lie,
no commemorative stone, no sheltering trees,
far from the hypocrite’s tongue and eye,
safe from the praise of my enemies.’

2
A man I knew who seemed to me
the epitome of chivalry
was constantly misunderstood.
The heart’s dialogue with God
was his life’s theme and he
explored its depths assiduously
and without rest. Therefore he spat
on every shoddy value that
blinded men to their true destiny –
the evil power of mediocrity,
the safety of the barren pose,
all that distorted natural grace.
Which is to say, almost everything.
Once he asked a girl to sing
a medieval ballad. As her voice rang out,
she was affronted by some interfering lout.
This man I knew spat in his face
and wished him to the floor of hell.
I thought then, and still think it well
that man should wear the spittle of disgrace
for violating certain laws.

Now I recall my friend because
he lived according to his code
and in his way was true to God.
Courage he had and was content to be
himself, whatever came his way.
There is no other chivalry.


I love that poem. It was my speech and drama piece in school (cos of course I did speech and drama in school!)
 

Atlas

There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it;

Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

The permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

UA Fanthorpe


My favourite love poem.
 
Is this him
Alsatian. He passed me by.

I had the good mind on me at least... to douse my belongings in febreeze.

See what I did there?

Anyway, dogs have a good sense of smell as we all know. It can also be used against them. He/she sniffed me and my carry on and shot his snout out n carried on to others.

Good boy.
 

Atlas

There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it;

Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

The permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

UA Fanthorpe


My favourite love poem.

Well, you can use a six inch drill into a brick to set a shelf.

Still a fucking brick.
 
EVENT GUIDE - HIGHLIGHT
Award Winning Kanan Gill (In English)
City Limits, Coburg St.

16th Jun 2024 @ 6:00 pm
More info..

A Matter Of Time

Crawford Art Gallery, Tomorrow @ 10am

More events ▼
Top