The Scum Gentry Poetry Hole

Billy the Bird

Billy the Bird

Poetry
Dan Riley
Billy the Bird
with his butt-plug
sits in the corner,
doesn’t say a word.
It’s enough for Billy,
with his hand on his willy
to be seen,
but not to be heard.
.
Observes as the party
shifts on through the gears
flesh slaps
loin fat
groin smears.
Peers out through
hand-cut
chicken-head holes
to where the moans
and the groans
are the most.
.
Said woman said man,
man doll in hand,
head buried
in the ...
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The Bookshelf Says the Heart is a Lonely Hunter

The Bookshelf Says the Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Poetry
Daniel Galvin
I tell the bookshelf:
.
The heart’s a lot of things
don’t mind the heart
.
If you had your way
I’d be poking around in my ribs
picking away at my own heart—
I’d rather not
.
For all I know
the thing could be reaching some sort of crisis
swelling to splatter-point
.
Making me phone my father in tears
or cannibalise my girlfriend
head to toe at the cinema
.
Most probably, it’s a ...
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World of Dreams

World of Dreams

Poetry
Peter O’Neill
For Sandra Sineux
.
After spending the morning in bed with the world and its press,
We passed onto the little chores with the child running happily amongst us.
After lunch, sleep came upon us then in the house.
It was brought on by a plaintive voice
Accompanied by the distant thunder of soft violins,
Which summoned up for us in our dreamy heads
All of the beauty of maps and charts of the globe.
We crossed ...
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While Driving Drunk at Night

While Driving Drunk at Night

Poetry
Daniel Galvin
Ugly flowers wave us on
you blast their arms aside
manic profile gleaming teeth and gums
I check for reassurance
.
There’s none
my chest full of beating wings
.
You take a corner too hard
we glide for ages
I wish you had just tied me up
and put me in the boot
.
But then we’re back
leaking laughter
like someone slashed our lungs
.
And many things
I could think
to think of now
...
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A Herbst Poem

A Herbst Poem

Poetry
Dan Riley
I walked with a man with a walking stick hand,
a suitcase for eyeballs and a sock full of sand.
Drank tea in a cave by a cherry stone laith,
played chequers with adders,
hammers and spanners.
Crooned for the crows by a pile of old bones
ate daisies and snails ‘til the cattle came home.
Passed poitín and crusts while the early birds cussed
at the shuffling of shadows as dawn replaced dusk.
Talked physics and ...
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Por Patria Mori

Por Patria Mori

Poetry
Maire Carr
Holy Mary, Mother of God, how does your garden grow?
An unholy tomb,
A garden in Tuam.
Blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus,
Blessed is the fruit of thy womb.
.
You fight tooth and nail for the unborn child atop your pedestal,
From foundations built on women’s bodies and babies bones,
Whitewashing over inconvenient truths
Like those who lie under Mother and Baby homes.
.
An equal and inalienable right,
That of the unborn.
...
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