Author Archives: Job

Villanelle

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Urban types like to claim they know
It’s a cul-de-sac, dying, sad-face place,
But grass is green, homes are clean, neighbors wave hello.

Morbid teens desperately long to go
It’s killing me man, this too-safe place
Urban types like to claim they know.

Predictable writers imagine their prose
It lacks the raw nerve of the human race
But grass is green, homes are clean, neighbors wave hello.

Happy husbands drink beer slow
Far from the City and its rat race
Urban intellectuals just don’t know.

Content gardeners plant and sow
This is paradise, my Eden, this is grace
Grass is green, homes are clean, neighbors wave hello.

I’m suburbia, I’m an ordinary schmo
I love this peaceful, happy place
I hope urban types never know
Grass is green, homes are clean, neighbors wave hello.

-Job

Heroic Verse

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Honest Garda I don’t know how that half
ounce of cannabis was on me, laugh,
me head is wrecked trying to make it sense.
Garda I shouldn’t be in custody
it’s some sort of crazy joke me silly
mates played then ran off when you lot came, no
offence, ha, I’m a good lad really though.
Me mam, bless, she says I’m her pride and joy
apple of her eye, her golden boy
never been in bother with the law, well
except for that time I broke done me girl-
friend’s door but that was just a lover’s spat,
a misunderstanding between me girl
and me, we’ve been fine ever since, she
knows her place. I love her to death. Sure I’ve
never even smoked any weed or gan-
ga or whatever it’s called, I just like
a good night out like the next lad, a few
drinks and a bit of fun, not into drugs
at all, it must be that I borrowed these
jeans from a mate of mine, what’s his name? Well
not a friend as such, more an acquaintance,
a stranger really, what? How did I come
to be wearing this stranger’s jeans? Well that’s
the odd part of this story. Let me think,
but first can I have a drink? I’m quare thirsty
it’s very hot in here, that light is awful bright.
I’m hungry too can we pop out for a
kebab or a pizza? I’d kill for a
battered sausage and chips. I’ve got an aw-
ful hunger all of a sudden, what time
is it? 3 A.M., that’s mad, I should be
in bed. I’m never out this late and I’ve
school in the morning, teacher will be cross.
If I’m too late mam will be up the walls
any chance I can make a quick phone call
on me mobile? No? You’re an awful prick
what’s it to you? You’re some sort of a cul-
chie dick, sorry, sorry, I don’t mean that.
Ha you’re a lovely fella, I’m just feel-
ing quite sick. You look like a lovely guard,
no don’t hit me please I promise I’ll tell
the truth, his name was Pat, or maybe Mick
and he sold me these jeans on Henry Street
mine had gotten soaked with diesel on the
way, don’t ask how, we’ll be here all night, I
trekked all the way on foot after me car
broke down. Yes, he was selling jeans there on
the street, Gucci ones he said, made in Milan
great value they were, I got changed in the
Ilac jacks, didn’t think to check the pockets
wish I had. I’d never have anything to
do with cannabis, sure my brother is
in Cloverhill for a similar offence.
This will break me mam’s heart, honest Garda
I don’t know how that half-ounce of hash got
in me pocket. It’s certainly not mine, ha
I wouldn’t know how it’s used or rolled, as they
say. I’m a good lad doing me Leaving
Cert next week, honest Garda that’s God’s truth.

-Job