Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Poem - The Prostitute Party




Labour’s Gilmore an old whore trying to sell herself in bad light
‘clients’ ignoring the smell of rotting principles
Connolly roaring mad through the Hall of the Slain
the Party shroud the dead skin of social justice
a few decent people having the decency to resign
the damned generation pouring out into a vindictive world
the new concentration camp terminal quietly efficient
airlines clamouring to take bodies away
putrid politicians bent over backwards towards The Troika
diligently stealing from the corpse of old Ireland  




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Saturday, December 07, 2013

Poem - Looking Back at Earth


looking back at earth
that pang of regret
will I see her again
or feel the pull of her g
gravity..
the drug of the space junkie
take in small doses only
for now free in flight 
my mind roams unhindered
far behind the networked ad hoardings
their cheap laser light pale 
in the rich black blue of space
starlight reflected in the metal seed
all around
feed me  nurture me  protect me 
as down the fallopian road my ship crawls
a few parsecs more
from the body of the earth mother
just as in far history
the first mothers
carried the ancestors 
on the inside
or so they say
body to body
seed to skin
m times v = f
as I force myself out into
the universe
here I am 
I of earth
I of earth


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Sunday, January 13, 2013

Poem - Searching for Blue


people are stuck sometimes
in the good or bad pieces of their past
or the image of self, frozen at 32
the cyberhallways jammed 
with pretty young things
all in better years in better light.
Sad, trying to rappel back up a linear timeline
oblivious to the counterweight of reality.
Your life moving over the horizon, inexorably 
like an old Johnny Cash
you see photos or video of yourself 
from other angles, not the pretend
they’re shocking, like a crime scene 
you’re so old, so frail, so scared
in that moment you see your death 
Apache horses rising up on the ridge
too many of them to fight
you raise your hands
in a dead god above gesture, 
giving up…
surrendering searching for blue
just one last glimpse of blue
in those final years of grey

By Drax Ireland
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Monday, October 08, 2012

Poem - An Old Bottle Of Imagination



I found an old bottle of imagination under the sink
even the date was out of date
I thought the hell with it
lets risk it

like a vintage poison
it brought death to old thoughts
I convulsed a little
fairly normal with this shade of green

I was away then in a cow filled sky
cobweb trees fluttering in the wind
bird spiders monkey jumping in delight
an orange grass corn field caressing me surrounding me

a long line of voluptuous body posts
decadent immoral dirty in the swell of the field
I rested in their shade of black
licking at the sounds of six legged horses

I was in a painting, panting
from the heat of busy brushes
drawing a bizarre future in miniature
a corner of my eye oblongated

I stepped carefully among the shit pyramids
wondering of the animal’s anus, Darwinasstic J
the fish duck plopping pedantically on my path
stepping aside to avoid the tickle of scaly feathers

then the sharp mountains crept up on me
I fell through their zigzags
my grip on reality slipping..
away

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By Drax Ireland
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