Friday, May 29, 2009

Thought for the day No2

Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.
Unless of course you die today, in which case you're fucked.

This and many other pearls of wisdom will be available in ' The Guineys Book of Bollix' as soon as the recession is over and a multi million euro publishing deal is done.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Thought for the day

Is Oxford university poetry up shite creek without a Padel?

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


Remember a vote for EEjit is a vote wasted. Don't forget to waste your vote on June 5th. 'But why this particular EEjit ' I hear you ask 'Why is this EEjit any different from all the other EEjits up for election?' The answers, like myself, are simple my friends , apart from the obvious fact that I am easier on the eye than the other candidates,there are 10 major,fundamental ,vital ,logical ,political reasons why you should vote EEjit

1) My posters are clearly higher up the lamposts than any other candidate

2) I have by far the most posters

3) My posters are larger than the other posters

4) My posters have an airbrushed professional quality appearance

5) My posters have a lovely white edge all the way around

6) My posters are made of highly durable weather and re-cycle proof highly flammable unbiodegradable potentially toxic indestructable mutant ninja plastic

7) Win lose or draw ,without fear or favour I solemnly vow to leave my posters up for ,at the very least , six months after the election.

But don't be fooled into thinking this campaign is ALL about posters, no my friends, there's a little bit more to local politics than that!

8) I have bought lovely new tracksuits for myself and all the family of every GAA and Soccer cliub in the town and will wear them for all informal pictures

9) Perhaps the most important reason of all for voting for me is that my father ,his father and his fathers father and my first cousin were all previously elected so I must be a great man altogether.

10) If I meet any of you , my electorate, in any bar across town and you give me a bit of a digout, even as little as €100 (cash only now mind ) I will buy that man woman or child a pint.

Monday, May 25, 2009


Yes comrades,the circus has come to town,or is it a gravy train? Either way tis election time, mainly local but also Eurodisney,er I mean European elections. So all local still successful businessmen/women are putting huge grinning, gurning pictures of themselves on every possible lampost, building, bridge and vantage point, like some kind of scary art instalation or macabre portrait gallery.They remind me of those old western 'Wanted, dead or alive' posters- except of course these people are NOT wanted ,in either condition.Surely these attrocious apparitions are all that is required to secure a vote? (Or maybe 'Vote for me I've fingers in pies ,I might give you a piece of the status quo, fuck the world ,forget change,vision ,a quest for better, we'll be alright jack just scratch my back,I'm on all these committees committed to ?) Now I don't know what your local politicos look like ,but around here they look like extras from ' Night of the living dead ' Bad enough that they are hanging from every crack and crevice of the town, but, apart from a few terrified children in prams, most people can cope with the horror in daylit familiar surroundings. Nightime, however, is a different story altogether.I was driving in pure darkness outa here to somewhere else and all the faces were gurning at me left right and centre and in the familiar security of civilisation I could cope with that .But then I left the town and was following a lonely meandering riverside road and I was switched-off, mild and mellow, in the soporific zone of mileage accumulation. Man and machine in perfect harmony, slick gear shifts, gentle acceleration, mood music, leather trimmed steering wheel commanding 2 tonnes of ancient but lithe german metal.I'm in the twilight zone, the Irish Ayrton O'Senna of the backroads, 'Summer breeze ' by the Isley Brothers blasting from the Blaupunkt and blowin' through the Jasmine of my mind.I flick left then right through the S bends up to the hump backed bridge cresting a tarmac wave and thumping sparks from the twin exhausts, I'm almost airborne as the halogen headlights ,burning through the pitch black , spotlight three of the scariest looking fuckers God has ever created, terrifying and large lassoed high on an unsuspecting lampost, shock tactics hardly does them justice,if you wanted to kill or traumatise you couldn't plan a more effective ambush. I'm thinking Boris Karloff , Vincent Price,Freddie Kruger are handsome by comparison,I almost swallow my tongue in panic and terror and miss careering into the fast flowing waters by millimetres.

Someone will surely be found dead in an upside down car in the river before this election is out.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

MEA CULPA, but fuck it ! No!

And I'm thnking
there's too many shit poets
on the pages of today
soon to be yesterday
like all those other intermediate freaks
and I'm thinking
there's poetry under
every stone unturned
pulsing to the beat
of a different drum
and I'm tired of phonetics poetics
tired of the pose, legs crossed ,book at the ready,
head in the hedonism
the barrage of the bard ,economy lost in ego,
cock sure of themselves-
misses the point entirely .
Only self doubt blossoms in reality
literary hyperbole weaks on end of yet another loved song
of the siren of the self.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Don't know how I managed that but

my only excuse is that I rarely post sober.However it is most remiss of me to have omitted John Hayes from my list of Kreativ bloggers.John's blog is fascinating and insightful, it /he is also very prolific.Clearly a great musician, but also a great poet and perhaps more importantly a great thinker. We are all travelling a road and I recommend everybody to look in now and then to see how John is travelling his.


After the shock dizapoinment of the greatest story ever told in a short story being rejected,I felt perhaps I was not destined to write prose, and a branch of the literary tree of genius wot is EEjit would be lost to the world forever.But then, Lo ! on the horizon ,a twig of hope, my first ever 'flash fiction' has been accepted by the wunderbar webzine 'Ink sweat and tears' and goes up in the next 2 or 3 weeks. Incidentally I emailed my submission late on the 14th May and got my acceptance early this morning (the 17th) How quick is that? Especially compared to some print mags that can take up to and even over 12 months to reply.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Not only -but also !

Not only a poem ,but also THE FRONT COVER!! Hard to believe after several years of yearning my favourite magazine The SHOp are putting one of my photos on the front cover of the summer issue (not sure when the pooem will be) Now I can die happy-Yippeeeee!

Fuck the Fish forget the O'Faolain, don't dig the Davy Byrne, shag the something beginning with S, the only awards worth a shite are D'EEjit awards.

Writer Nuala Ni Chonchuir dedicated hard working writer, poet goddess,editor, artist awarded me this in recognition of my prodigious bountiful kreativ (?) brilliance - and I'm going to pass it on.Here's how you do it:
1. Post the award on your blog and link to the person who gave you the award.
2. List seven things you love. So...
1. Myself
2. Hurling(C'mon Tipp,there's more than one way to skin a cat ,but any way ,don't spare the timber)
3. Getting drunk.Not being drunk.Getting drunk may be like getting on the last train to Clarksville, but being drunk is definitely the worse thing in the world ,the pits, the ultimate cul-de-sac.Even being sober is better, coz at least then you can get drunk.
4. Tea and toast
5. Saturday's Irish Times crossword
7. Sleep (Oh, so elusive)
Finally,pass it on! List seven blogs you love and let those people know you’ve given them the award.Here are my Kreativ Blogger Award recipients!:
Dominic Rivron already has this award but sure feckit
Susan Sonnen wrote a poem for each and every day in April
Mad Aunt Bernard, crazier than a box of frogs
Pure fiction,what is going on in her deceased aunts mysterious world?
If this award was designed for anyone it was designed for Heather
She may have recently recently got married but this award is much more important
And with one award left and two candidates left DAEEjit flips the coin into the air, it climbs and rises and spins and peaks high out of the kitchen skylight and apart from wondering if I'll ever get me feckin euro back, I'm thinking,Heads for Jeanne 'Tails' for Kat( - ha ,ha ,naturally) then (thank god) the coin re-enters EEjit atmosphere plummeting downwards, then the deciding moment as the coin lands forcefully onto the kitchen table and starts spinning and flipping, spins heads tails heads tails heads tails, no, heads, no ,tails ,then it lifts and rolls and falls onto the floor still spinning heads then tails then heads then hits one of cooks discarded toenails and unbelievably comes to rest in a sticky patch of marmalade spat out at morning breakfast(when the feck else would you be having brekkers?) and incredibly the coin is bolt upright on its edge, neither head nor tails- a draw, or more accurately 2 winners which makes 8 in all instead of 7 but I is King and can do wot da fecks I likes.So 2 more Kreativs kreated, Kome on down!
Poetikat-more awards than Seamus Heaney
Jeanne Iris Lakatos-Hungarian locksmith of the mind

Friday, May 15, 2009

I is a friendly bloggo

This award was kindly given to me by (potentially) distant relative John Hayes. maternal grandmother's maiden name was Hayes from Dublin, as was my mother and dear Baille atha cliath is my spiritual home. Well ,one of them) Not only is he a great poet ,he is also, along with his multi-talented wife Eberle, a fantastic musician.His blog is a prolific and fascinating insight into a (to my eyes) totally different world.

I thank him for this award and his friendship and would like to pass it on to all these friendly people...

Poetikat, another prolific and insightful blogger, poet and reminiscer (is there such a word? Well , fuck it-there is now!) extraordinaire.

Barbara Smith, gifted poet,busy, busy lady and inspiration.

Colm Keegan ,aka Uiscebot. A cool guy, and terrific writer, the real deal of urban chic cutting edge gritty stories. A bit like Paul McGrath he puts his head where most people wouldn't put their boot.A pivotal figure at 'Nighthawks' at The Cobalt Club in Dublin. All this but took the time to do a proper cnstructive critique of my first short story.

Nuala Ni Chonchuir another great poet and The Irish Times 'One to watch' for 2009.Prolific and hard working, yet takes time to help and advise aspiring writers poets

Liz Gallagher -a great talent, her first poetry collection 'The wrong miracle' due out from Salt in september, she bloggs at and

PJ Nolan poet, reviewer, artist, sketcher- is there no end to this man's talents? His latest incredible success is to be selected for the highly prestigious Royal Hibernian Academy annual exhibition in Dublin undoubtedly the artistic highlight of the year and something that I have wanted to be in for years, without success.

Jeanne Iris Lakatos Connecticut university professor, poet, theorist, intellectual, always friendly whether rain or shine. Her next book will be an academic profile of Lady Morgan.

Oh, yeah,I forgot,I think ye are supposed to pass this award onto deserving causes and post a link back to my blog.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

I'm too sexy.

I've been awarded this title by my good blogpal poetikat
I know that she gave me this award with tongue firmly in cheek , due to the nature of my previous profile picture as a somewhat monstrous creature, but in fact this award could not be more richly deserved as I am indeed a babe magnet of the highest order.All my life I have been beating adoring women off with a stick, mrs Beautiful EEjit was indeed a lucky woman to have captured me and my castle and two hundred acres of land- and a sweet- if high mileage, Honda 50 to boot. Amongst my most sexy/alluring attributes according to third parties are:
1) The way I belch in a complimentary fashion after a meal.
2)The pheremone infused odour of my socks after a week of mucking out the Haggi.
3) The sophisticated way I attend to my profligate eyebrows with the aid of a Black and Decker hedgetrimmer.
4) The amusing ,nay, endearing manner in which i fall over, or fall asleep , at vital moments during every family get-together.
5) The fastidiousness with which I attend to the in-growing toenails, verucas and warts on my feet .
6) The poetic beauty of my insomnia anmd it's mirthful consequences of keeping everybody else in the castle awake all night.
and finally,
7) The thoughtful way in which I carry my own dishes all the way to he sink so that Cook can wash them, dry them and stack them away ready for the breakfast.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009


Valency of one. This IS a love song.

Okay, we were programmed, installed.
But without hands on the keys
there is only impatience, anxiety,
a lack;
of control,
a lack; of
the new deity.
is the new today-
it never comes.
And also, but if and but,
duality, both poles
under, beside, beneath
the same sun?
Rising, setting sons,
beautiful danger, dreamer.
And if , if; was ,was.
What then? If then was happiness,
is all we knew, what then, of now?

* source - The Guiney's book of Bollix, unavailable at any good bookstore near you now.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Ever totally been to Ballincollig?
Live recording of John Spillane's song with Christy Moore, Donal Lunny, Declan Sinnott and John Spillane.Never seen the other lads live but last saw Christy Moore in concert on his 50th birthday in Manchester, I think he's sixty three now-where did all dem years go ta?

Saturday, May 9, 2009


And how do I know this, what concrete proof do I have in these days of blurred seasons and undifferentiable days , that da Summer est arrive?
Is it the long rainy days?
Is it the occasionally milder temperature ?
Have I seen a Swallow? Yes!
-but that is not the answer.
Is it because young wans are wearing flimsy clothing in the lashing rain?
Is it because beligerent blind-drunk neighbours are now burning burgers and basting botulism on the back-lit, covered in shit, back-yard, Barbecue?
Is it because the clapped-out Ice cream Van is driving up and down the road in a cloud of Diesel fumes playing match of the day theme tune 24/7 ?
Is it because toddlers are out from the crack of dawn whoopin and a hollerin and murtherin each other,all equiped with lightsabers and, much more dangerously, vocal chords that make Tom Jones sound like a whispering Nun?
( By the way if any of you ever happen to meet the Welsh warbler and he sallying forth with a murderous rendition of somebody else's half decent song ,would you please tell him in no uncertain terms, ' That is not singing, that is shouting! ' and really ,really, shout the 'shouting' bit right in to one of his pachedermical, leathery ,(and presumably) deaf ears.

No ,comrades, friends ,Ramones, journeymen/women,culchies, jackeens, fellow bloggers, humans, aliens,Liverpoolfans,No and thrice nay, tis all of these but none of these, for the single clarion note and harbinger of Summer is the buzz of the BLUEBOTTLE,that most annoying of all summertime apparitions. Worse than the wasp, all BUZZ,BUZZ, BUZZ, licking at ,and puking on ,your food , then blasting around the room and your head at ninety miles an hour annoying the living feck out of ye , goading ye into leaping up like Bruce Lee and a hundred Mutant Ninja Turtles with a rolled up newspaper to do battle with the blue-arsed little bastard for ten minutes till exhausted and breathless and then ????................ Silence. Pin-dropping audible silence. Till you finally relax and sit down again and then be da hokey ,the airborne chainsaw restarts himself revving like an overtuned italian moped. You leep to your feet once more, gnashing teeth and spillling bourbons, tea/whiskey/beer/Irish Times/Playboy, to the ground , in the 180- over-99-blood-pumping-desire to do battle unto death with the hyper wound winged marauder.Then, then, then , but then ,soft , my friends-we have him cornered on the window pane, the battle is over the coup de grace held in abeyance ,merciful in victory we open wide the window for the annoying little prick to fly out.Beneficent, magnanimous, noble.But the moronic little fucker crawls and buzzes incessantly against the hard glass pane ignoring his offered , easy ,obvious, escape route to freedom, so with a curse and a swipe you splat his ignorant little guts and blood against the sport pages of yestedays newspaper.Fuck him!

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Stung by the stinging fly !

My masterpiece! How could they? Reject it? Has Declan Meade lost his senses? No, (whispering low) truth be told when I said it was the greatest story ever written, i was exaggerating a little. It is in fact,how can I put it? Mmmm, Yes, shite - but don't tell anyone. Like the six million dollar man my epic tale of woe and joy and more woe can be rebuilt, clearly there wasn't half enough (human) sex in it, precious little space travel, only one alien , too many monkeys and most of the words were the right ones but they were in the wrong order.In short it's nothing that can't be sorted out over a cup of tea and a bourbon and a tab of acid. So if there are any other publications out there that take shorties they better brace themselves for 'The greatest story ever told in a short story, the remake' Due out when I can be arsed.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Congratulations /commiserations to new poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy

Great news , Roger McGough is not the new poet leerytwat.Well done CAD no harm at all that it is a woman for a change but in all honesty that is irrelevant to me,gender does not enter into it,she is a great poet and that is what counts.Having said that, though Poet Laureate is a great achievement, it is also anachronistic, linked to that bloody awful monarchy and a kiss of death to poetry in general.I am pleased for her and congratulate her and maybe she will be the first to break the mould and produce some proper poetry under the post of laureate