On the streets

On the streets 
They pass me by like zombies 

In their knocked off abercrombies

Their Drug signs are there for all to see

They stagger around like they were drunk

Their bloodshot eyes so deeply sunk

Open Needle marks and obvious lethargy

They go down to the social

To get money for their hostel

On street corners they will hustle

Unsteadily they will shuffle

The fag in hand, the cheap beer can

Young ladies pushing babies prams

Not knowing where the fathers gone

Or where the next quick fix comes from

They make their way to the local courts

The poor tax payers they support

The Procedures they all know well

Free barristers, free lawyers cartel

Their sob stories they will tell

They’re released back onto the street

And then they shout a loud obscenity

At the local understaffed gardai

Their laughter and V signs we see

I wonder will they ever be

A part of our “normal” society

Or will they always hover 

On the outskirts in abject poverty.


Good Friday morning

I do all my “best” writing early in the morning. Some would say “do us all a favour and stay in bed a little longer”. To those I say go read somewhere else, no that’s not true, I really do appreciate all those who take the time to hit the button. “Retired” and sixty plus I am now just beginning to write. Never had the inclination before. It has opened a door in my brain with cobwebs on, and words keep crawling out. It has opened up a new world of new people, new ideas and new confidence and I thank all who have helped them escape. Thank you for your attention and look forward to reading you again soon.

Posted in June. Yet another little ditty with relevance I believe

jpoet7/Joseph Black Photography

The Baltic States

  • Although History is not my forte
  • I feel that I’m compelled to say
  • That Russia sure has lost its way
  • And Putins power is gone astray
  • A dark and dangerous autocrat
  • Who in short is just a little twat
  • But really having said all that
  • We still consider him a threat

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Raindrops dancing on the dance floor 

Crying tears on the window panes

Grey storm clouds gather overhead

Putting happiness into the shade

The people in this world today

The warmongers and paymasters 

Chasing tragedy and poverty

Creating many more disasters

They claim it’s for the common good

And that without them there’d be failure
But for poverty stricken nations

They’re far from being their saviour
It’s obvious from where they fight

That oil and money not people’s plight

Is theirs by choice and not birthright 

Is there no end to this circus in sight


Unfortunately yet another tragic mass shooting in America. Thoughts and prayers go out to all

jpoet7/Joseph Black Photography

  • Some men die , their women cry
  • the children can’t understand
  • Their fathers won’t be coming home
  • from far off war torn land.

  • They are buried with full honour
  • with the sound of gun salute
  • they’re surrounded by their families
  • and with men in somber suits

  • As years go by and tears run dry
  • and with peace again restored
  • the children of their children
  • play war games with their swords

  • They play with guns and rifles
  • They say it’s not a crime
  • For now it has come to be
  • An American pastime


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Ho! Ho! Ho,

  Ho! Ho! Ho!
I wake up with a fright
From a nightmare in the night
My mind has taken flight
It is an awful sight
I see Santa fly away
With my money in his sleigh
With rudolf prancing gaily out of sight
If only I had not listened to the priests
Out on the missions
I would not now be sitting here in such a state

I dream

 Her Crimson lips caress

 the gallery to impress

Her sculptured hair 

her sultry eyes. 

Her perfume

My mind it races

For her embraces

My pulse it beats

Our lips to meet

Then I awake

It’s morning.


Are we wasting our time

You’ve heard of course of the Easter rising

That in itself is not all that surprising

The businessmen and the politicians

See ways of profiting from the exhibition
Do they care I wonder about Pearse or Ceannt

Or the middle classes meeting their rent

With Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael, labour and Shin Fein

All fighting their corner some kudos for to gain
All of the tax payers feeling the pain

Clery’s workers soaking in the rain

Political pensions and the great gravy train

The two million pension from I F A coffers

As the small farmers struggle, stagger and totter
One thing this I know is that wherever I will go

For Easter festivities whether in sun or in snow

The price of restaurants and hotels won’t be low

 The Homeless will still sleep out in the street

And Many, many more will have little to eat
Politicians will parade, their chests they will beat

 In An election year they’ll make sure you will meet

You’ll see many faces you’ve never seen before

Asking for your number one and promising more

You’ll probably say yes and then you’ll ignore
So I think you can see that whatever we do

We’ll still have a government that hasn’t a clue

So sit back on the couch and break open a bottle

For no matter what you do they’ll sill be talking twaddle