Strength

Strength does not have to be physical. Masculine. Feminine. Spiritual. Strength can be as easy as conquering one’s demons on a daily basis. Just to get out of bed. To survive. To breath. To bury these entities back to the dark where they belong.

Not letting people

take advantage.

Not letting people think they are better than of you.

Life cuts. Life pierces. Life is painful. Sometimes so painful you cannot see, hear or speak.

As your heart aches and body burns. 

Life crucifies. As we figure out who or what our purpose is. But life can also be beautiful.

Sometimes it is hard to summon the power. The strength that is needed. But it is always there. Always there to hold you up in the true face of opposition. Don’t let it become locked in your mind like a political prison pleading for freedom. Like a black rose within us it simply needs to grow. Our choking anxieties and paranoia. 

But it is always there. Our light in the dark. A Beacon of transition. Never be afraid of fear. Never try to breath life into them dark thoughts for they will become you and destroy. But our strength will show us really who we are during these harsh, brutal and uncertain times. Like a phoenix we rise from the ash. 

In this chaos we call life we try as we may to maintain order. To Curtail and contain. An impossibility. We either move with the current or pull against. 

Even with tears in our eyes we can and will survive anything and everything thrown at us by the heavens. Choice or none. The struggle. The strife. The longing.

Let it come let the uncertainty and pain reign over us. And over take us. For we have faced much worse creatures in life and we will face ever more. For my own strength such as yours will keep us going eternal. 

By Darragh McConn

CHOICES

Little babies are born,

Good mama and papa prays 

Each day

For their little growing one

That God be their growing one's guide.

Years unfold,

Thus they grow,

And soon becomes "big enough"

The youthful pride, comes rushing in

"I'm big enough and can make my choice"

Becomes the order of the day.

Advice not needed.

But still on the knees

Mam and papa prays

For now their grown child, 

Who seem not to know

That he still be their little growing one. 

 

*we sometimes where babies, who grew up,

 Different backgrounds, different cultures, religion, race, but we all humans, we all get to the point in life where we make our choices, where mama or papa let us be us and make the mistake. (But not all mistakes they let us make), and at that point when we feel so big not to listen. 

    Yes we be big enough to make the choice, and  hey don't forget we still big enough to make wrong choices

Not all times we are right, not all times mama and papa be right, but why not just we listen first.  And if we confused in what the choice is, God can help. 

LET GOD GENUINELY GUIDE YOU.

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WILL YOU MARRY ME?

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UNSPOKEN, UNTOLD.

                  

Her heart is filled with wishes unspoken,

Her heart is filled with words untold,

And one day may explode,

She tries to make sure it doesn't,

So she uses her smile as her Vail, 

Thus looking through her eyes,

 you never know the weight she bears, 

Unspoken, untold, she converts it into a prayer. 

For without word, her God can hear,

And so she finds her solace there. 

☺❤💞💖

Pesi-Mists

If you exist then why do you persist making life so difficult. In these most precious flashes of happiness on our journeys. Making us feel buried alive. No pride. Just divide. Bloody fist after fist striking that wall of stone. Either it will fall or I.

Going out of your way to pepper spray these unnecessary inflictions. Infections. Contradictions. 

Maybe no such thing as harmony anymore. Oh I’ve seen it once but that was a past life. Its late. It’s deceased. It’s been lacking. Mind cracking. Dreams attacking. Prescriptions drugs whacking. 

Whatever happened? We are all Celtic brethren. From

Some of these questionable men.  And those of you who are not are most welcome. The worlds children.

Yet you treat people like they are disorders. Symptoms. I am meant to be a son of a Judah all knowing powerful being. Yet I came from a broken home. So if we are family where have you been? Father where you been? 

Taking all of our best spirits for yourself.

Living in fire exhaling ice. Mouth shooting venom like a king cobra. 

Whether I be fact, fiction or a fable. I feel unstoppable yet unstable. Like the deities you worship. Punishment and hardship. We come from the bottom. The underground. But burying our way to the surface and now you hear our sound. Ignorance is bliss no pressure mentally. But when you Tap into the earths veins it’s nothing but pressure indefinitely. Convictions convicting me contradictions restricting me and perhaps you. But we are in this together night and day. Dark and light. Death to birth.

Some of us made to believe we are lesser than. Meant to believe we will sink lower than the titanic and what then? But we will soar like the mother ship. I am free but even that still comes at a cost and a nominal fee. Over possession is my only transgression of this our home. Our plain of existence. 

By Darragh McConn

Air castle

Air castle 

I'm a  gale of real

And you are the fancy orb,

Hazy in the orbit of my thought... 

Let our long distances remain relevant,

At their distinctive farness,

Or the incubus actuality, 

May bulldoze the air castle.

Worthiness in impossibilities

Worthiness in impossibilities

These pass pierce 

Through diaphanous layers 

Of these thoughts,  

And see the guts

Asking what is next?

Where do one can see certainty?

Across next there's ambiguity.

Across next there's obscurity.

Presence appears 

To be some creepy creature

Having no head and no tail.

Time to come, seems to be a new jail

And this wings need, the harbor.

Freedom is the ultimate realism.

Seeking worthiness in impossibilities.

Shout me your hatred

Shout me your hatred

 

Your tormented words don't  engulf me anymore.

I am fine with your eloquent arrogance.

I don't want to break your egodist 

With my thoughts,  I'll listen to you 

And let you happy with your ignorance.  

I am a listener and I also listen to my sapient heart.

He tells me things that I never heard before. 

So go on, don't stop 

Shout me your hatred to the loudest

I'm listening!!

Beautiful hangover

Beautiful Hangover

I'm a lethargic somnolent goblin of my night.

I Feed and outlive on my blood red  wine like angelic dreams,

Decorated in sipping amazeballs to imbibe,

And when I woke up sluggishly

To the sun shining

Through my morning light

I realized that my dream hasn't gone.

It blithely ached in my beautiful hangover.

INTEGRITY

INTEGRITY IN YOUR CAPACITY

Integrity is my ability

What is the absurdity

All I can ever give in my capacity

is to build a city

full of honesty, no brutality

Please don't soil that dignity

It might bring calamity.

If integrity is in your ability, 

you are likely to attract good people

 and worthy people.

The only absurdity in integrity is how many heart you get to warm up to.

Let's build this city into a place filled with honesty but it has to begin with you. 

Like terms attract

Don't soil your dignity for the feed of today, the consequences are a later regret.

Medley of infight

Medley of infight

Words don't guesstimate the outgrowth that breaks from the medley of infight.

The end of bitterness offsprings enrichment

Which underwent the process of transmigration.

And the refurbish reincarnation is  aftereffect that sense those words were  nothing but embarrassment.

I love you

What is poetry

What is poetry

Poetry is observation

Poetry is recreation

Poetry is feeling

Poetry is healing

Poetry is freedom

Poetry is wisdom

Poetry is serenity

Poetry is loyalty

Poetry is limitless

Poetry is harmless

Poetry is attitude

Poetry is gratitude

Poetry is imagination

Poetry is manifestation

Poetry is metaphor

Poetry is savior

Poetry is venting out

Poetry is speaking loud

Poetry is silence

Poetry is elegance

Poetry is sanity

Poetry is intensity

Poetry is for seeking

Poetry is for dreaming

Poetry is for reading.

Man from Kashmir

Man from Kashmir

He was not Muslim, he was not Buddhist, he was not Sikh and he was not a Terrorist,

He was just a man from Kashmir.

His white hair cap his head like glacier.

He was tall like Nanga Parbat and when I embraced him,

I sensed the touch of glorious Quran In his fatherly arms,

I sensed spirituality of Geeta in his warm closeness,

I sensed holiness of Bible wrapped up in his silver fleece like beard greasing against my cheek.

And when he opened his mouth,

He spoke language seraphic, 

Stollen by  Northern Pintail duck who snatched  words in the air and flew over the top of river Jhelum to write  songs on rivers and lakes of beautiful Kashmir.

Let love leave

Let love leave

Beneath fluid layers, the deep is tenebrous and the silence Is fiercely venomous.

It's peremptory captainship is outrageously  murderous.

This heart is a temple of unholy, practicing rituals of lugubrious melancholy.

Don't you blame the blameless love,poor wretch changed into  DEVIL FROM THE PATHOS

Purposelessly confine within the bracket of two broken hearts.

Despair: having nothing to do  with love, and love is  spelt in the parentheses as a piece seperate from the main part.

So cut open this chest  and let love leave as it has lost it's meaning in the dead souls, fallen apart.

Storm of mind

The past should make us better. Not bitter.

My mind trashes like the sea smash’s and we roar. Spilling over the sand like blood from an open wound of a wrist. Rising above the waves. Seabirds scream laughing about some secret triumph. Like drunks who’s horse has come in. 

The sea shore submits. Sighing with heavy bones from the of the weight of the water. My mind is sore. I am

So confused. The smashing tide never relents. With each rise and fall it wears. It tears.  Stripping the away beach away like bare bone.

Moving the to countless of shores where it becomes faded and forgotten. I don’t choose to be this way. I feel chosen. But every wrong reason.

I often think of Irish Kings and Queens of past. Their knowledge, their victories, their decisions their viciousness. My defiance. My breathing turns deep and rhythmic as I walk bare feet through the endless sands under the black moon of the unworld. Razor sharp wind cuts through the air like blades. But here is where I walk. So no fear shall stalk. I am the drugs that’s why I am high enough to constantly have my head in the clouds. Not staying here. 

Thoughts of expressions. Thoughts of aggressions. Thoughts of being a tsunami taking out a lighthouse. But it’s fine the my rage subsides. The sun rises and it becomes bright Iv escaped the black out. My army of shadow dissolves. No more cracking thunder no more destructive lighting. I’m taken a breath I have inhaled my storm.

VOICELESS

VOICELESS

If my tears could tell my tale

I would shed a river

If screams could ease the pain

I would boom like a thunder

If only I would be unmask

I would tell of this mischiefs

Mouth clamped behind this mask 

His evil deeds can't be proclaimed

For I am sealed not to tell a word

If I could only have a voice again

I would tell of his mischiefs

When the tears stream into,

a puddle in the hollow of my neck;

My strain veins cause him no remorse,

and my dying courage muddle in hush.

With no one tough enough to resist him.

All the unknown of his mischiefs

shall hide away in my voiceless cry

My heart? It's broken

I roamed everywhere we walked.

I remember everytime we talked.

I keep reminiscing all I can about you.

I can still picture the first time you smiled at me...

I can still feel the warmth of your hand touching mine when we last said goodbye...

I can still hear your voice when we used to chat...

But that was long ago...

Actually, not that long ago. It's just me feeling lonely.

Thought I wanted you and only you by my side...

But guess what? That changed.

I want you to be as far as possible.

I want you to forget about me.

I don't want you to remember the time you wasted on me.

'Cause all I want is for you to be happy.

I'll be on my own now.

Just like I was before I met you.

I hold on dearly to every little bit of memory, 'cause it's all I have.

All I have left, actually.

I treasure those moments, I keep replaying all of them memories in my head.

But why in my head would you ask?

Easy. 'cause my heart, it's broken.

Is There A Point?

1. 
   Standing on a grassy hill at dawn. Because I feel like it. Thick green and shadowy black trees surrounding me. Looking down on me. Like a brother would. Staring at me. Haunting ye. Stand my ground. Up to ye. Dreams turn on me. For empathy. Thatl sound: Not a sound. Silence! humanity. Your too fckin loud. I turn you off. 

• Used to ye Fckin off on me all the time. But now it’s on my terms. Nothing violent no klaknacosh. Have had enough of your urgency. Your emergencies. Your convergences.  Non creativity attempts. Forcefully freaking yourselves out when we just need a breath. Is that to much to expect? Rushing round being square. Bending around turning to any shape for anyone. Pretentious. Pretending. Cautious. You Scared then? There’s someone you need to be over there. Leave me be your wanted over there. Not being rude but fckoff over there

• Voices watch eyes whisper. Spotted the man on the hill smoking tha big  fckin splif sure , I’m connecting to Gia. The earth man, the mother and her kind eye. From dirt to birth, turn after turn, urn after urn. Na still burns. In the pit of my stomach still fiery them churns returns. The smoke leaves my throat and embers escape my mouth. Choking on the ashes of the past. Past that was a different man. Killed long ago. Different breath. Different mind. You don’t know me. 

• Whos that? I’m fuckin with the Druidry
• Who that? I’m fuckin with the Druidry
• Who’s that? I’m fuckin with the Druidry

• Seeing through new alignments and old
• Gods is what I said. New binoculars and a new blade. Act of kindness decision iv made. Giving myself to the chaos. Not much blood loss. What is life? Chaos. Chaos will forever be chaos. Life will forever be life. In the jungle with the sex pests, touched by an Angel, touchy subject monkeys, junkies. Go take a rest while the rest of us compress your inflictions. They’d expect a full confession but fck them. We’re turning on them and we’ll crucify everyone of them. The fear. No more black and white. The colour will rain From the skys.

• 
  

Nothing to offer

Nothing to offer

Each time I came back from  farthest, 

Each time I returned with  longing to go back to  closeness.

What is there for me...  love! or is it just a temporary romantic schmaltz?

I need the assistance of worldly truth   that lies within me for guidance,

But the addled schooling of the brain couldn't handle these inner conversation which is repeatedly  distracted by preconception thoughts, restricting the concentration of my cogitation.

I try to avoid  wonder,  ultimately I wonder, how will this urban cotton thoughts of mine will inweave the warm remote sweaters of faraway?

Am I afraid that I may get acclimatize there and never come back?

Or am I afraid of trying to run away from  city of reality having nothing to offer?