Saturday, December 17, 2011

Poem: December, 2011

We have forgotten the things we promised not to forget 
And an old poem is rattling around inside my head 
About a lost idea of Ireland, and the wishes of long gone hero's, 
Over and over, 'was it for this?', 'was it for this?'. 
On the evening news I watch the stupid bobbing heads lying 
Through their soulless fixed grins, bloated uselessness 
Squeezed into a nice suit. It's almost enough to make you wish 
Bertie would come back, and at least make the situation amusing. 
Misplaced, clichéd pride in a pint of the black stuff 
Or stupid green hats and the cheapest of our fairytales 
Serve as an excellent distraction while we surreptitiously take down the 
Cead míle fáilte signs, not that anyone is coming.

No comments: