Electric pylon gunslinger, watching the sunset.

– Job



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.


Heroic Verse

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.


The Ballad of Danny Wyse

Now gather round and let me tell
The tale of Danny Wyse
And how his sweet wife Annabelle
Did suck out both his eyes

And if I tell the story true
And if I tell it clear
There not a mortal one of you
Won’t shriek in mortal fear

Danny Wyse was a soldier
And a foolish one at that.
He deserted during battle
Blaming his soldier’s hat

He hid back home with his wife
Afraid to leave the house
In case the army took his life
Hanging him by the noose

Daily Danny raged in his chair
Thinking on wrongs long gone
As Annabelle washed her hair
Waiting for her day to come

Annabelle set her goal,
To flee him once and all
No more would he shout and scold,
She’d relieve him of his gall

She did not rise to his goad
She played upon his belief
And pretended to love his soul
And hid her bitter grief

It took three months to light her fuse
She waited quietly undercover
And took his stream of abuse
Waiting to destroy her lover

Till when she could take no more
She provoked him with abuse
Telling him what was the score
She screamed down the house

‘Get out of here you lazy man
You are a cowardly fellow
Any go and fight like your friends
You’re looking pale and yellow!’

Danny stepped up and grabbed her wrist
She turned and hit with ease
There was crack and a twist
Danny fell back displeased

Annabelle fought back with hot conviction
Stabbing him in a private place
She fought hard against affliction
Locking her teeth on Danny’s face.

She bit upon Danny’s ears then upon his pupils
Found them rather tasty.
She began to suck them out,
He cried Annabelle ‘Don’t be hasty.’

By the time she finished with him
Danny lay upon the floor.
Two empty sockets left for eyes
While Annabelle locked the door.

She left him on that dark old night
And didn’t worry for him.
She’d had her fill of Danny Wyse
And left with a happy belly.


(Based on a prompt from Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled p.200)