Archive for December, 2011

“The Dentist”

Posted: December 31, 2011 in Prose
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Well I woke up in the morning, with an aching wisdom tooth,

And my wisdom told me, that I had to take, the dreaded route,

To my local dental clinic; which I had avoided for twenty years

And if I recall my last experience, I’m still reduced to tears.

I was thirteen years of age, and I was dragged there by my dear ol’ mum,

The plaque upon the door said; Dr. Blood. Dental Surgeon.

He had wispy hair growing in his ears, and halitosis to beat the band,

A cold sore on his lip and a festering wart on his left hand.

He said, “Come in, Come in, sit up in the chair, let me take a look in your mouth,

His eyes were like a compass, one looking east, one looking south,

And as he reached for the hypodermic needle, I saw the blood stains on his shirt,

He smiled a grin, like a fox does rabbit, saying, “Relax, now, this won’t hurt”

That needle went in, and went in, and went in, it felt like the pain would never end,

Dr Blood said, “Oh I’m sorry, I’ve missed the spot, I’ll have to do that all again”

I took a drink to rinse my mouth of the overshot anaesthetic,

And in the cup, was someone else’s teeth, and I proceeded to be sick.

“Oh me oh my”, said that dental disaster, “not another patient feeling ill,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up in a minute, now lie back again if you will.”

Well the smell was just horrendous, and that was just from his breath

Five minutes in his dentist chair, was less preferable to death.

He stuck me once, he stuck me twice, and on the sixth attempt he got it right,

I was a thirteen year old pin cushion that was strapped in good and tight,

My mouth went numb, and then my ears, and then my fingers and toes

He said “You should be feeling numb now” as a sneeze escaped his nose.

He reached across for the drill, and the life drained out of me,

We were about to dance the dance of ages to the dental symphony.

My knees began to rattle; my temples began to pound,

My heart skipped a beat or two as I heard that dreaded sound.

The drill went ‘zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’, I went, uuuuuuurrrrrrgggghhhh, he said “Relax, this won’t hurt a bit!!”

The drill continued on,  zzzzzzz, zzzzzzz,  zzzzzz, I mumbled, “ I tpink  ur a Lubatic!” ( I think you’re a lunatic in numbed mouth speak)

“Dr. Blood, please stop, I tried to yell, “Please stop” I tried to blurt,

“Just sit back and try to relax young man, I promise you this won’t hurt!”

“So are you going anywhere for your holidays?” he asked, and I answered uuuurrrgh and aaarghhh,

“Did you see the game the other night?”    This guy is a loo lah!

Mmmmmm, I see, yes, uh huh, that’s right,    I haven’t even said a word.

If I had the law upon my side I’d have this nut interred!


Then I heard those words, those sweet, sweet words, I thought would never come.

“You’re a great boy, and very brave, I think that we are done”

“Sit up, take a rinse, and when you’re feeling ok, give me a sign,

And I’ll strap you back into the chair, and do the other nine!”

Well I had been put through the pain barrier, as if it was the barrier of sound,

And nine more times with this butcher would not see me hanging round

So I grabbed him by the family jewels as if my life depended on it,

And said “Relax; now Dr. Blood, this won’t hurt a bit!!!”

His southern eye headed north, his eastern eye had gone west,

His cold sore burst a blood vessel, and he was looking all distressed,

I told him we were finished now, and as my grip tightened to stress my view,

And he said “Mmmmm, uh huh, I see, that’s right.” And I disappeared from view.

And so twenty years on I make the trek, to the scene of trauma passed,

And the pain in my wisdom tooth has brought, the memories back so fast.

Now Dr. Blood, has long retired, but alas, I’m still driven completely insane,

For the plaque upon the door today reads; Surgeon. Dr. Payne.!!!!

“Wherever We May Be”

Posted: December 29, 2011 in Prose
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Wherever you go, where ever we may be,

Nothing will ever replace you and me,

The parting glass, that I have supped so well,

Has always been the juice of a broken heart, to where this heart does dwell,

The life destroying fear of loneliness, that is a bowe (sic) to this man’s string,

Is not unique, nor a strange thing,

It is just one of those human experiences, that occasionally sing a tune,

It has answers within; it has its own story, its own Rune,

Tis not the fear of new life, that disconcerts this soul,

Tis, the knowing of this man’s life, less your voice, that creates the hole,

It is in such knowing that a hole, can be a mine, a discovery , a moment in time,

That this old man, will treasure the love lost as a ticking clock,

A moment in time, that can never be forgot,

And wherever I go, or lay my bones down, I beg you to know, that it was because I had to,

I had to live, I had to feed,

I had to grow again, and I did, from your very seed,

But as I came from the desert, and you came from the sea,

It is only now, I realise, that we,

Have created, a shore, created a forest,

Created a rhythm, envied by most,

We have created the moonlit stars, the dawn breaking sparrow song,

We have created the most beautiful place, where Hearts should belong,

 We created Harmony,

 we created Funny,

We created tears,

we created sighs,

We spent, too much time apart where are creation brought, wherefore’s and  ‘why’s’

We angered in each other, without even wanting to admit,


Came back each time to our creative beings,

So be it,

We cried, and sorrowed, without allowing each other to see,

We let down each other,

 with true integrity,

We harmed, we hurt, we became the most frustrating  to each other,

Because we had stopped admitting that we were,



In ether,

 in throes,

We were lovers,

It is the song of your pleasure, and the touch of your hand,  

The painful denial, that shield, that says,

Hey Man,


And then the dance begins, as only we can know, where, your wanting equals my rejection,

We become as one, for some strange reason,

You have a warming, and I,  your reflection,

But that is not what it is about,

It is much deeper than that, surely,

I feel it belongs somewhere, in a modern day context,

If I may analogise,

Our love, is like this for me,

It is like being a someone that has found that little beautiful country cottage,

 and then discovering,

 that the very land that it lies upon is based upon the richest vein of gold.

And you are the gold,

 and yet to mine you,

 would feel like defiling you,

It is like knowing, that I sit in the presence of a treasure,

And I know it,

I need not sing it,

 plough it,

 mine it,

 exploit it,

All I need to do is,

 know it.

And indeed I do.

Wherever we may be ,

“The Christmas Tree”

Posted: December 22, 2011 in Prose
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The Christmas Tree

Come sit with me by the Christmas Tree,

I’ll hold you near for eternity,

 And let’s make a wish upon the tinsel star,

Let’s reminisce of Christmas past, steal a kiss as if it were our last

And if we hold each other close,

we’ll keep our troubles far.


Tis the season for the get together,

the season for,

to just remember,

That what we have within each other, is just divine,

Let’s forget about our cares and woes, and sit inside our lovers throes,

And celebrate the gift of love,

that is yours,

and that is mine.


Little things, fairy wings,

lights that twinkle upon the tree,

Wishes on the cotton angel and the postcards from family,

Snowdrops on the window pane,

the red robin sings his rhyme,

And the greatest gift I have is you,

 every Christmas past,


 and future,


Yes, it’s you,

my deepest sweetest love,


Every Christmas time




Merry Christmas Everyone!

Voice xxxxx



Posted: December 17, 2011 in Prose
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I had a Christmas present in mind, and I went to buy it for you,

I’d heard it advertised and thought that it was for you, through and through

It was a CD of an artist you like, a triple set of his work,

So I went to the record shops to buy it, and now I’m left looking like a jerk.

“ Don’t ave it.” Was the reply I was given, in shop one and two and three,

I said; “ It’s advertised on the radio, surely you can help me.”

“No, maybe it’s not released yet.” I said “It’s been advertised!”

And I knew I had no hope as each one adverted their eyes,

So here I am, with no present to place under you Christmas tree,

Here I am, standing like a fool, proving your philosophy,

That a feeling can only be proven true, through a deed or through an act,

So, I sit here, in deference, trying to disprove this fact.

I saw you today, played you the song, and couldn’t believe my emotion,

You stood there listening, having to leave, but still, you were, in motion,

We spoke about where we are at, and your defence was beautiful in its frailty,

It’s equal to the respect I speak of, denial in all its beauty.

In my eyes, being together has everything to gain, in my eyes, being apart has every fibre of pain,

In my eyes, you’re just beautiful, just the way you were always meant to be,

And in my eyes, I feel like someone, when you share your time with me.

Right now I feel like nobody, like a beggar in the street,

Like a ‘contender’ that had his chance and blew it in a heartbeat,

And it’s probably right, that you protect yourself, from an ignorant man like me. Because the proof is in the pudding, no gift under the Christmas tree.

One day I will find a way, that lets you know how afraid I am,

How weakness and how hurt stops me from being the attentive caring man,

One day, one day, if ever I can prove it true,

That I am a sweet, loving, and beautiful man; than I hope it’s you I prove it to,

I had to walk out of the room today because I had begun to cry,

I didn’t want you to see that, and felt I had to fly,

Fly away, running scared, in case you saw my heart break,

And so like you I put on a front, so you can feel that I’m ok

But I’m not, deep down; I’m struggling from day to day,

I’m living a life of total despair, that cuts me in every way,

I hate this country, its ethics, values and what it’s done to me,

And if you ever thought I was beautiful, then just imagine how beautiful I used to be.

My counsellor asked me the other day, ‘what do I do for fun?’

I said ‘Ireland doesn’t do fun’ I am just the same as everyone,

Passing time, like I live in some sort of caged nursing home whilst in my prime,

I hate it! Poets and Scholars me arse! More like lyin’ bastards and slime.

Why am I writing this? Because this is the greatest gift I can give you,

To try to communicate how I feel, how the feelings I have are true,

I have so much more to say, but right now I think I’ll let the evidence be,

That my thoughts and feelings are my only gift that I have this year, under your Christmas tree.


Oh! Fireside glow, and warm this room,

And dance with the twinkle of the tree,

Oh! Candle as you flicker

Will you light the way for me?

And present wrapped in paper’s gift,

Do hide beneath the bough,

And magic and wonder please greet the child

For I need your spirit now.

For the match girl, weary, plies her trade

Still deep into the night

As I reap the warmth of your fire glow

And the lighting of my Christmas night.

The young ones lie asleep with haste

For tonight Santa Claus will come

And the gifts that teach them how to play

Have come through the gift of the almighty Son

And yet, innocence and selfishness

Are the joys of being a child,

There but for the grace of God

Are they not match sellers, and the exiled.


I look at all my earnings, that

Are modest like most men I know

And they have manifested in gifts for mine

To create a Christmas glow

And still the match girl preys on my mind

As I silently pray for her.

For my wherewithal won’t provide a gift,

Or from winter’s cold, shelter.

So gather Christian, Pagan, or other,

And enjoy your Christmas unfurl,

And spare a thought, as you light a candle,

With a match, from the hands of the match girl.