Why be lazy with language?

Why would you say that the day is nice?

When you could say it’s like living in fucking paradise

Why bother with boring shit nouns?

Pass me over the poetry crown

Being using extraordinary and intelligent words in poems since 86

Putting pen to paper to get my fix

Strutting about, cock of the walk, OG style

Walking forward with a smile, mile after mile

An example of an indestructible force of nature

But now the eye is on the prize, steady and mature

Soaking it all up now totally relaxed

This show will never get axed

Never give up or get disheartened

Me, myself, the honest truth is that I’ve only started

Love is

Love is sneaking out of the bed before she wakes

As the dawn breaks

Turn on the amp and put on a record low

Take things slow

Realize how lucky you are right now

Roll a spliff

Don’t worry about when or if

Just wait

Cork a bottle of wine

Everything is fine

The angel is still asleep

Sweet dreams about things nice and deep

It’s all about you and me

And then you hear it.

Can I have a cup of tea?

Ship will carry us safe to shore

Ship will carry us safe to shore

There are refugee’s travelling from far away

They are escaping war and human conflict

Looking for safety and sanctuary

Ireland is obligated to take some in

There’s plenty of room

It’s the right thing to do

Imagine it was us looking for refuge

What country would you head for?

If Ireland was engulfed in war

You would be looking for a ship to carry you safe to shore

The poems don’t write themselves

The poems don’t write themselves

They are written by people

On pieces of paper held together with a staple

It’s that simple

Any poem will do

Put on a brew

Go online and buy a canoe

Become a Hindu

Start sniffing glue

Start saying more How-do-you do?

Travel to Kathmandu

Play Peekaboo

Cook a stew

Change shampoo

Have some Tiramisu

Change one negative point of view

Not me, You 

As we all share this planet which is really a type of Zoo

The poems don’t write themselves

Wrafter’s Afters RIP

It doesn’t need description
For many it was a prescription
An oasis on Harbour Street
An opportunity for friends to meet
Many antique weapons did the walls adorn
But tonight we feel forlorn
And slightly torn
A great man for good advise
A sound man who had time for anyone
Tonight we definitely feel forlorn
As we think and remember Sean


Have 30 or 40 things I should be doing
Can’t do anything
It ain’t glamorous
It ain’t rapturous
It ain’t “I am the Walrus”
All I do is procrastinate
Can’t write, can’t paint, can’t coordinate
Maybe its the medication which I don’t rate
It’s supposed to make me feel great
Maybe i’m the contaminate
All I do is procrastinate
As an artist my job is to illuminate
But this feeling of uselessness is starting to dominate
Hopefully soon they will vaccinate
And this virus they will eliminate
So I can get back and perform
Give the artists back a platform
Many lives this would transform
And as I write this on paper with my biro
I push back this procrastination until tomorrow

The man who paints Trees

So what is the scenario?
Turn up the audio
Let’s have a look at his portfolio
Whats going on in this studio
On my lyrics I’m patentee
Just another of earths refugees
Why would you paint a tree?
Between you and me
With regard to the Gardai
I’m in favor of the legalization of cannabis
In my conscience nothing is amiss
But without new legislation we are staring into an abyss
Hopefully the necessary support will surface
So cannabis is legal to purchase
Whats the point of arresting someone carrying weed
A victimless crime you must concede
The social problems of alcohol must I dripfeed?
Weed expands your conscience I don’t mislead about this supposed misdeed
There is a movement there is a need
Been smoking since 92
Like to smoke a few
However over the cuckoos nest I have flew
This is a poem about me
I’m the pro weed guy who paints the occasional tree


What an industrious man you will ever meet
If you ever meet him you are in for a treat
Became friends with him 20 years ago
Have never fallen out with him this I know
He’s a farmer and knows loads about animals and plants
If you ask him a favor he never says he can’t
He’s well traveled and a believer in free thinking
He prefer’s being a smoker than spending his time drinking
He’s an amazing chef, using only the best ingredients
His food is always succulent, dare I say magnificent
He’s a pleasure to be in his company
Always look forward to visit his farm in Tipperary
Whenever i’m feeling down I call on you my friend
In my time of need, a helping hand you always lend

Ivor’s House

Ivor’s House
Lets head to Rahan Roads penthouse
Rahan Roads Whitehouse
Ivor was the president
George Micheal Micheal Jackson
Some said it was a dosshouse
To many a playhouse
Back in the day
To some it was a nuthouse
Many house parties that did arouse
The fucking fantastic parties in Ivor’s house