A foot upon which to pivot
At worst should warrant your best
And if the shoe won’t fit in fairness
Then you’ve only your trainer to blame
A man of years should see to it
The prevailing angle from his hind
Must assist in the furthering, no doubt of it
Of his worse foot to be fitly made
The worser foot to meet by half
Of the one in favour having seen
Much advancement by the tripping step
Ought to be assisted, with patience met
A worthy man it would become
Him who plays off his bad foot well
Ambidexterity, and a reel of angles unbeknownst
Should place him neath any good man’s guard
So I’ll see you in the field m’lad
Or perhaps on the canvas truth be known
And you would be ready and best prepared
For the unlikely fella who sees it rare
If you should win against me once
My respect you will find a fellow fine
Let me conquer you twice times over
It’s my regard you’ll be chasing mind
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It all soon seems like nothing
Your efforts a sad lament
Quickened to it in the moment
Robbed the meaning in greed
But any good labour will find its price
And it’s not for us to know the good done
A blessing or two is yours mind you
In Meryl’s words: it’s a hell of a vice
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Fuck this plastic sandwich
And the plastic bastards
Who sanctioned its existence
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There’s a bluffing statistician
Eating walnuts in the hall
Waiting for an apparition
Pasty-faced to call
He calls by intuition
And mourns his nation’s loss
While grinning fools drink up their fill
Matched well at pitch and toss
The way the papers paint it
You’d think it oh so true
That the fiction they depicted
Would birth a boy named Sue
And though they studied
All their days and
Breached fraternal law
Again the friend
Who bending lends
Seen past all that they saw
Unseen it gleams and machines reams
It feeds on foolish love
These number men go numb again
And look to God above
Any poet that wrote his quota
Went his own way see
The only consolation due
Is what you paid to see
Byron knew a thing or two
His buckled foot would not undo
That rarer knowing if only you
Could know the cost of making do
Jealousy we ease in jest
Ahead of our own betterment
Go meet the darkened broken man
And share your part in this here plan
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In the silence easy
You laid me down
Kis-sed my eyes
Sent me blessings
It’s true I found you
At the far side of the ocean
And dreamed your being
From sketches you made
In another land
Where we bled the phase
And roamed so lonely
In gardens wet with winter rain
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Yonder calling out your name
In the firing sun that lit our gloom
Homeward going sailors pecked the hill
And I embraced your countenance divine
It was all I could do to be for you
In that embrace you met me fierce
Bliss bled from the poppies surrounding
And salved the summer sweet knots’ pain
I write to you still and turn
As your flesh beckons blushed enchanted
I heard those whispers through the night
And paused to brace this interlude
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Your crown aglow along the lane
Teased embers and the tidings breezed our bones
Your sweet structure crushed against me, though cushioned
Inspired that brush with lips so thrilling
The sweetness of just ripe berries
Are but a breath of your fragrant pipping scent
And so the bottling has begun in earnest
Since battles fierce were won for this
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Crippled stripling makes it way chirping
Among its familiars who hop in their fashion
Nimble lanes call on twists particular
As if a lane could ever hop you up it
Diving beaked-things dart and it’s tragic
Enough to smile upon the smoking gatehouse
Remark to oneself the peculiarities
For the crippled are geared-up as such
Infant freely flies free of fear in fact
And look there at those young becoming men
They could learn a thing you’d think at once
Simply smiling sensible parent. Fly on
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I have a friend who’s fond of plants
He’s an infuriating expert to be exact
I don’t begrudge him the mastery in any case
It’s that he has remedies for the ticking of a clock
Or the untying of a shoelace when you’re on the bloody glider
His poems are very nice, you’d like them
He’s quite insane I know
Might have something to do with us getting along
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Rub your thumb along
The edge of this here knife
It’s been dubbed the dagger of spoof
It came with this here costume
And it’s no good for cutting cheese
And here look at this wee glass
This is for spitting tobacco in
I sell it back to the shops
As like a wire wool substitute
The wee Chinese woman and me
Get on great
For all I know
She’s plotting to murder me
You see why they don’t let me out?
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There was a time
When the sight of a child
With half the bread of bag
Was as common as the dustmen
Apparently though
A duck died, or swole up
Something ridiculous
And they’re scaling the whole thing back
You’d be warned off
Climbing a tree
Or picking up a wad
Of pre-chewed, trod on gum
Out the back
Was the greatest
Playground of all
But they’ve closed that now
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At peace I sit and pray a bit at nobody in particular
What you’d call strays suggested themselves sometimes as impulse
And were duly disregarded as they strayed again hungrily from my doors
Is it possible that a man like me should inhabit a horse in daring?
I’ve to go racing now over these hills so to honour this gentle spirit
I’ll waken again in Belfast rain and you’ll be none the wiser
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Walked in the steps of a smacked up addict
Through peaceful terraced rows
Saw a nurse and came to know
Myself just then as a seasoned alco
With matching feet for to shuffle with
I shuffled furious at first then calm
The vehicle I had taken had only one speed
I didn’t know what way to look
But grimaced after a mean faced uncle
Course I’ve to relate it all a la cowboy
Only cause the truth of it would’ve broke your heart
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Looking back
The fact that I’d been made to bend over
Only to find
That the dead on doctor was wearing converse
At the time I thought him very unprofessional
My conception of the word was at that time probably up for abortion
Looking back yeah
He was a hip old guy
Don’t let the white coat fool you
That’s all I’m saying
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