Thursday, October 29, 2009

Some performance poems

Really ,really something ,or other .

"A bing a bong a bing a bong
a bing a bong a bing
(speed up with jazz hands)
a bing a bong a bing a bong
(crescendo now)
bingiddy bong bingidyyyyy BOOOOng
(pause now for dramatic effect, gazing at the audience like Roy Keane spying Mick McCarthy in his local Waitrose)
do you!? "

Heroic Poet leaves stage like a mighty moral matador having stuck a thumb tack into a tethered mouse, greeted by rapturous applause and whoops and hollers from all his bestest friend in the audience.

A love poem Slam stylee

Argh-OOgah !
Argh-OOgah !
she's as swift as a cougar
she tastes just like nougat......
on my l-i-p-sss

Pattooby !
Pattooby !
I like her left booby
she sits in my scooby........
and. I feel .Her h-i-p-sss

She sees right through me
and thinks I'm a loony
behind the chipper......

she's taking a p-i-sss

I swear I would die
for the wink of her eye
And then my-oh-my
there's a cloud in the sky......

black thunder and h-i-sss
It. All. Comes.
Raining, raining, Down.Down
Like really down. Down.......
On. Me.
and I'm thinking,this is spiritual
this is residual.. shares
in the lock stocks and barrells of us...
dust is all we are, get back to
the car
the far away look
I read like a book
I know every nook
and cranny
of... her...face...
her face
her face
her face

Wednesday, October 28, 2009


As the twisted metal of the Big Red Bus was pulled from the ditch TFE glanced a final glance over his shoulder then, his work here done, walked off into the sunset.

Feckin Einsten, couldn't resist a drink , started showing off to Shirley Brassy doing handbrake turns in the bus and fecked it into the ditch. It's a total write off. The anthology though lives on as I think the stuff written on The Poetry Bus merits a proper printed page.I know I'd like one anyways.Hope to see Padhraig Nolan soon and he will advise me how to go about this literary expedition.It will be a long and winding road I'm sure but Confuscius said a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
I think he may have been a pilot.

Well BUS POETS in the words of hard man Wimbledon footballer Vinnie Jones...

'It's been emotional.'

Ps The Sunset, it's a grand little bar on Main Street.

Sunday, October 25, 2009


ANd the winner is....... drum roll.............Protracted, baited breath, more drum roll..... more heightened anticipation, drum roll, cheese roll, arctic roll, we're on a roll, what is poetry's role in society? More even longer build up of excitement...EINSTEIN!!!!!!!!! HUZZAH! We have Uncle Albert as Poetry Bus driver this week.

Perhaps the finest mind and funniest moustache of the last century. Albert(acording to The Guiney's Book of Bollix) was the eldest in a family of five, The Steins, a German family of woodcutters living in The Back forest.Their mother was a fine cook and pastry chef, she invented a chocolatey, creamy concoction of a pudding that gained worldwide acclaim as Black Forest Gateaux.The Stein family nicknamed Albert ' Eine ' Stein due to the fact that he would be roaring drunk after one beer. This nickname stuck till he was simply known as Einstein.His older brother was known as Drei Stein and the youngest, the alcoholic of the family Zwolf Stein. They never mention the black sheep of the family Frank. N. Stein who dabbled with lightning powered experiments and crochet.

Anyway he is a popular choice so I thank you for your votes and feel confident that Albert will be a safe and entertaining driver. All aboard now, Bus Poets , The Poetry Bus is heading out across the horizon blazing the darkness like a shooting star.

Here's mine, show me yours! I didn't know what the music was or it's title so I was surprised when the words matched a bit and gave me the idea for the exercise.Thanks again to Dominic Rivron for posting the music originally.


It’s in the trees
The one note of a million cries
The darkness comes louder drowns them
Panics them a million Beckettt mouths menacing
Heartbeat silence edgy nervous alert waiting
Madame Guillotine at the top of her game
Ready to fall
Then ants crawling a lizard licking cold blood pumping
Storm clouds gather blacken the darkness
It’s a warning drops of rain splat off-key
Here and there random wet foreboding
The voices now almost human cries of NO! NO! NO! NO!

Crescendo bees swarming flies wasps locusts eating all before them
The deafening jaws of all before me
Recede retreat to silence, open
mouthed in terror of more.

First aboard is....





Rachel Fox

Wild Somerset Child


Sandra Leigh

Prof. Jeanne no patience Lakatos :)



Dominic Rivron

P Nolan


Emerging Writer




Friday, October 23, 2009


And there are no horses! Shock Horror Probe and garibaldi biscuits.Come here to me, listen ,there is only uno dayo lefto of the world's first (another EEjit exclusive) bus driver election.The candidates are listed elsewhere on this blog but I can exclusively reveal that all round good egghead Albert Einstein is in pole (poll?) position with a massive 5 votes followed closely by Burger King (Elvis P) with 3 votes and in third place equal Homer Doh! (dough?) Simpson and Leonardo di Caprio's Moaning Lisa with juan votino each.(Ok, that makes four horses)

No other fucker has any votes at all!!! Not even the lovely Maggie(whip 'em ,shoot 'em ,hang 'em, flog 'em -the people and the council houses) Trasher.

Your poetry Bus needs you, be sure and vote.

Other news in The Peeps Republo D'EEjit is that I need to lose weight. I normally guage my fatness by the notches in my belt and the ability to still get into the car through the drivers door.I have run out of holes in me belt and a suit that (when I say 'a' suit I really mean 'the' suit as I have only ever owned one suit) I wore to a wedding last Oct and functioned without bursting even after a 5 course meal and some blood pressure inducing individualistic dancing, did barely fit onto me for a funeral today.So drastic action is required if the suit is to fit me in a few months should someone decide to get married or joss it.

The car entrance/exit method without getting wedged is a good guage of fatness but i felt I needed something a little more precise in it's measurement of weight loss.So I got a new fangled gadget called 'a scales.' The last time I stood on one of these was on my honeymoon in the hotel (it also had a fancy thing called 'a shower' for washing - incredible!) 14 years ago and I weighed 11.5 stone.There have been a few mince pies under the bridge since then and I was sure that I must be all of 12 stone by now.Imagine my surprise when the digital readout (posh eh?) recorded a whopping 14.7 stone. So I ate a bit less that day, didn't drink so much and walked a bit further and managed to weigh 14.9 stone by the end of the day.Clearly I have some kind of superhuman fat metabolism that fights back against any attempt to attack it.I should give myself over to medical research. I'm going to weigh myself now to see if today has brought any loss/gain.Back in a minute....................................

Lo and behold I am back to my original 14.7 stone, clearly the fat is at it's optimum weight and will vigorously defend any attack upon it.I will have to draw up a battle plan.

Meanwhile, people fought and died to get the vote, so don't waste yours! Vote now!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Ah,Fugh it, we'll have a real election!

The Poetry Bus would be nothing without you, yes YOU, the poets, so here at The Peoples Lost Republic Of EEjit, we have decided to let you decide who drives your bus.

Yes folks I've fished the limp remnant of Democracy out of the water, given it the kiss of life, smelling salts, a cup of strong tay and a Jaffa cake. So we will have a vote to see who will be driving the poetry bus this Monday.You can vote once only, for one person only(unless you give me €10, then you can vote as many times as you like, but remember to wear a disguise each time and change your voice a little ) To cast your vote simply leave the name of the person you wish to drive the bus in the comments section.Voting will end at 12 midnight on Saturday.All votes wll then be counted using the latest in hands free electronic vote rigging,er I mean counting, machines.The winner will be announced sometime on Sunday.

The new line up of candidates is as follows:

1) Margaret Thatcher (The conservative Party)

2)Elvis Presley (The All NIght Party)

£) Homer Simpson ( C.N.D)

4) Amy Winehouse (Third Party Fire and Theft)

5)Sylvia Plath (I Don't Want To Party)

6) Mona Lisa ( The Arty Party)

7) Damien Hurst (The Arty Farty Party)

8) Brian Cowen ( The Party Is Over)

9) Paris Hilton (Tarty Party)

10) Albert Einstein (Smarty Party)

DEMOCRACY, you know it makes sense - ask a Unicorn.
See previous post below for details of this weeks Poetry Bus challenge.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

BUs POETz of the WOILD unite!!

WE have nothing to lose but our chains.

This weeks task is simple, only 10 minutes of your life is required.You must,when in the mood for writing, or as close to it as you'll be, listen to the piece of music below. have a drambuie or seven and a ham sandwich(or goats cheese),relax empty your brain, put on a pair of headphones and while listening to this piece of music write what you see, or at least what you hear in the 10 minutes as it unfolds.
Ps Don't look up or investigate the music prior to listening to it.
(And thanks to Dominic Rivron for introducing the piece to me via his blog- go look after the task.)

A last ditch alternative.Go for A if you possibly can.

Relax, blah blah, Ham sandwich, yadda yadda, Drambuie, then take 10 mins to look at yourself in the mirror.The colour of your eyes, the windows of your soul, every tiny blemish,the crows feet, the lines,the wrinkles, the facade, the public face, the private face. Look into yourself what do you see, who do you see, how many different people do you see in the mirror,how well do you know them, do you like any of them.Physician heal thyself, poet know yerself!
May the fluence be with you my friends.


Well Bus Poets, what a trip! What, a trip?Mucho more exchellente and poetic poetry upstairs downstairs, all around town and beyond , far beyond the mysterious beyond.Twas dark, twas shiny, twas death in a bauble, everything you would expect it to be ,only less and much, much more.Music and song and dance and this and that and a bit of the other.Twas square rounded in a peg hole for sure.Jelly ice cream and worcestershire sauce and firelighters.Mamma! It was mia. Thank you all for everything you wrote.

We got a gud thang going, a real good thing going, where are we going? I don't know.Isn't that wonderful? I'm making it up as I go along.The plan is, there's no plan.Actually there really is , but I could be lying.

Thomas Hardy,what a good driver! Didn't crash, gave consideration to poet passengers and fellow internet highway travellers alike.Kept swearing and aggresive gesturing to a minimum, used his mirrors for shaving and before signalling, gave way to the right at roundabouts, braked smoothly, thought things while he was driving and wore a lovely top hat.He was delighted with the whip round you all had for him and is going to buy some venetian blinds in Ikea and a low mileage crash damaged(NSF wing-easy repair) 6 owner Ferrari Testarossa with the money.

I've been interviewing for next weeks driver and have a shortlist of five. Elvis Presley, Ian Paisley, Shirley Bassey, (Smokin') Joe Frazier and Brendan Behan. I'm holding holding a democratic election of Bus Driver here in THe People's Republic of EEjit on Thursday and the winner will be Brendan Behan.

As for the task,it's almost three am so I'll post it anon.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

NIGHTHAWKS are concerned

'I drown in the drumming ploughland,I drag up
heel after heel from the swallowing of the earth's mouth,
from clay that clutches my each step to the ankle
with the habit of the dogged grave, but the hawk
effortlessly at height hangs his still eye.'

(The Hawk In The Rain) Ted Hughes.

Some of the many things I miss ,living out in the sticks, are art galleries,museums, poetry nights, theatre and events like this, Nighthawks.Occasional Bus Poet ,Uiscebot, AKA Colm Keegan ,is organizing and performing.I've never been able to get to one, but I've heard no end of great things about it and will be pulling the stops out to try and go .This one has the added bonus of helping a great cause.So you can have the time of your life safe in the knowledgfe that someone else will benefit from your joy.It's painless , peeps-go for it!

Nighthawks at the Project Arts Centre

(in aid of CONCERN)

Tuesday, 27th October, 2009

Project Arts Centre
39 East Essex Street, Temple Bar, Dublin 2

Tickets are €17.50 or €15 concession from the Project Box Office. Booking advised, tel: 01 881 9613

The Line-up

Vyvienne Long
Vyvienne Long first came to prominence a few years ago as the cellist in Damien Rice’s band. Then, in 2006, Vyvienne released her wonderful debut EP, entitled Birdtalk, and it quickly became obvious that she was a hugely talented singer-songwriter in her own right. Vyvienne is also a wonderful live performer, and, not surprisingly, she has sold out venues all over Ireland. Vyvienne is currently putting the finishing touches to her debut album, and her recent single ‘Happy Thoughts’ has enjoyed extensive radio play (and, yes, it’s used in that TV advert too!).
Pony Club
Put simply – Pony Club are one of the best bands Ireland has ever produced. (If you don’t believe us, then check with Morrissey, because that’s his opinion too.) In the last decade Pony Club have released three brilliant albums – Post Romantic, Family Business and Home Truths – and we would strongly encourage you to buy every single one of them – twice. Pony Club are definitely one of the most popular acts that we’ve ever had at Nighthawks, and it’s great to welcome them back for this show.

Foil Arms and Hog
In the last year the Nighthawks people have spent more than their fair share of time in Dublin comedy clubs, and we can honestly say that Foil Arms and Hog are the best comedy sketch group that we have come across in this city. They consist of Sean Finegan, Sean Flanagan and Conor McKenna; and they are guaranteed to make you laugh. They have just returned from a month of sell-out shows at the Edinburgh International Festival, and they were perfectly summed up recently, by Damo Clarke from RTE, when he confessed – “Foil Arms and Hog are the best threesome I’ve ever had.”

Jade Strings and Helene Hutchinson (Soprano)
Jade Strings are Aisling Ennis (harp) and Jenny Dowdall (cello), and they are regularly joined by the sweet voice of Helene Hutchinson. They play an exciting mix of classical, jazz and opera, and they recently released their debut album with a fantastic concert at the National Gallery in Dublin. This is one act not to be missed. They are the touch of class that we’ve been waiting for.

‘Lennon v McCartney’
(A Short Play)
Since the dawn of time human beings have gathered in pubs and argued about who is greater – John Lennon or Paul McCartney. Now, finally, here at last (and not a moment too soon), is a short play that definitively sorts out the argument once and for all. Well… sort of. ‘Lennon v McCartney’ is written and directed by Stephen Kennedy, and performed by Robbie O’Connor and Seamus Brennan. This short play has recently been selected for performance at Beatle Week 2010 in Liverpool.

Tango Performance
Simona Zaino and Leslie Handelman (with music by Javier Criado)
Simona Zaino is originally from Italy, but has lived in Dublin for over a decade. She has been teaching tango since 2004, and has even danced with the great Pablo Veron (you may remember him from the film The Tango Lesson). Simona’s dance partner at Nighthawks will be Leslie Handelman. Leslie somehow came to tango nine years ago via Tai Chi, and since then he has danced all over the world, and is frequently seen in the tango clubs of New York. And we are delighted to announce that live music on the night will come from Javier Criado. Javier is a gifted tango guitarist and singer from Spain. He has performed solo at the National Concert Hall in Dublin, and played at countless tango venues in his home country. A combination of Javier, Leslie and Simona is certain to produce something very special.

Colm Keegan
Colm Keegan is a poet, a short story writer, a screenwriter and a novelist. He is also the seventh son of a seventh son and plays a mean symphony on the spoons. Colm has been short-listed for the Sunday Tribune’s Hennessy X.O Literary Awards on three separate occasions – so it’s about time he won it! Colm has just completed a hectic summer, performing at festivals up and down the country, and there’ll be no living with him now that he’s conquered the Electric Picnic.

Enda Muldoon
(Stand-Up Comedy)
OK, let’s be honest about this, Enda Muldoon is probably insane; but he’s insane in a good way. A funny, insightful way. Basically, when Enda Muldoon does stand-up comedy you just cannot look away. The man has courage. The man has truth. The man has two bottles of Budweiser and a song about polar bears. Furthermore, Enda was recently a finalist in the prestigious Bulmers Comedy Competition at the Laughter Lounge in Dublin. Best of all, though, is the fact that Enda’s PR ends with the line – “The race to the bottom is over – come and see the winner!”

Graham Dowling
(Stand-Up Comedy)
Graham Dowling insists that he is completely unsuited to stand-up comedy, despite the fact that he was a former finalist in the Bulmers Comedy Competition mentioned above. In fairness to Graham, he has genuinely tried to quit comedy many times, but feckers like us just keep dragging him out of retirement for ‘one last job’. So please, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Graham's last ever gig (again)…

Damon Blake
(Stand-Up Comedy)
Damon Blake is one of the most intelligent and insightful stand-up comics currently working the Irish ‘circuit’. He has performed all over Ireland, and, in 2008, he had a very successful show at the Edinburgh International Festival. At present Damon is working on ‘Apartment Red’ – a popular weekly series of comic sketches for RTE’s The Den. Damon is funny and Damon is hip. Damon is heading to the top – so catch him now.

‘The Money Chair’
(A Short Play)
This short piece examines exactly what can happen when torture goes badly wrong!
It is written and directed by Stephen Kennedy, and performed by Padraic McGinley, Enda Muldoon and Damon Blake. Be careful where you sit in the auditorium!

The show starts at 8pm. It ends at 10.30pm (approx).

There will be one interval of 15 minutes.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

It says Sunday but this is MONDAY Poetry Day!!!

It was the best of times.It was the worst of times.
Then the big red Poetry Bus Jetted into town and with it the worst of times fecked off out of it.I've decided to invite someone different to drive the bus each week, just for the craic.This week's guest Bus Driver is Thomas Hardy,or Tommo as I like to call him. He has written a few books including 'Hard Times' The Mayor of Casterbridge' and the semi autobiographical 'Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys '*
*Source- Guineys book of Bollix.
'Jimmy The Butler has been on a week long intensive coctail making course and will be serving Black Russians and Rusty Nails upstairs, or if you fancy a Pixie Stick or A brass Monkey Jimmy's yer man in fact you can have any drink you like except tea, unless it's a Long Island Iced Tea.The usual food and fancies will be served as per last week.So sit back ,tuck in, raise a glass to 'The Bus Poets' and enjoy the ride.
But before you do enjoy yerselves you'll have to read mine.(No such thing as a free Lunch -or Bus ride) Struggled this week even though I've seen the film a few times.Lost for inspiration I sat looking out to sea and being struck by the nothingness of the day, decided to record what I saw/heard as if they were to be my very last moments.Ironically the nothingness burst into life but I was already on my dead-end track so.........
Garage land.

Of course there’s nothing
To begin with
A gentle memory
And the sound of the ocean
Dying hard like an old habit
The longer you sit the louder it becomes
Threatening to drown all before us
you can hear it in the cry of the gulls
Feel it in the beating of your heart
Sea is sky and sky is sea
All horizons are lost
Perspective shrunk to
the parameters of hearing
Listening. An invisible plane
Overhead passing through
Smaller birds draw in
A blackbird in a shrieking panic
A Finch curious upon a briar
To and fro and to
the curlews in and out
pattering with the waves
There’s precious little here
When all is said and done
Birds go this way birds go that
A Cormorant low to the water jets out
At speed like a middle distance bullet
A straight line to nowhere
A blank canvass
What’s to see?
Devil pissed Red and black berries
Un-ripened unpicked- too late
October heading to November
All souls day
The veil lifted SOIS
Save our immortal souls

Water laps the birds fly
Another plane passes by
Time passes slow
Over a featureless seascape
An escape an exit a way out
A one way mirror.
Cormorant is back, hello my friend,
Changed his mind,
Black wing tips touch water.
I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle
The ferns are brown
Summer has gone before it arrived
Letters unsent never arrive
No need of pen of stamp of pain

A stranger passes,
Leather jacket jeans
Black hair heading
Back to somewhere
Heading home, homeward bound
I wish I was, homeward bound,
Perhaps I am.
I don’t think I ever left home,
Home left me
If life is a tumour you’ve got to cut it out
Hear the sand pipers piping, their many feet a drumming
Mistletoe secrets and wine in vino veritas
Plum pudding fiery brandy flaming lips
Stuck like glue, kiss me quick mourn
Me slow.

A fuckin’ canoe, bullshit freedom.
I don’t believe it, hath man’s end no dignity?
A yellow fibreglass banana
thinks it’s navigating the lost Amazon
An intrepid tepid explorer
All Swiss army knife and cocoa
Let the sun shine
Paddle left, paddle right
I’ll paddle me own canoe
Floating in a sea of sky
Of infinite blue.
A curious seal now adding insult
To my injury
If that doesn’t take the biscuit
The living planet
The canoe stops, he looks knackered
Self loathing in his escape
Drifting thoughts oars akimbo
Broken windmills
Then dip left, dip right
a small wake of forward, forward.

Another fucking plane
Talk about getting away from it all!
Midges rev around me
The boat nearly gone
I hear a crow see a seagull, a bee,
The tweet bird of youth and the Cormorant
off again, inches from the water
Fast, then out of sight
The seal near waters edge
Head only above water
Looks like Churchill’s Labrador
A tiny black headed fly lands upon my thumb
Investigating the land of giants
And flits away

I’m sure that small bird watches me
There’s nothing else now except the seal
Up and down like a submarine
The crushing weight of the water
The crushing weight of the world
Boredom rules vast and empty
The sand a thin veil between liquid and solid
Fact and fiction chiaroscuro
Tidal and static spinning as one
I can hear myself breathe
There’s nothing else nothing to see
There is nothing
It’s time to go
Nothing left nothing left behind
Time to go now
In some ways there’s something
In many ways there’s plenty
In all ways there’s never enough.

Titus is already aboard enjoying tea ,toast and a doggy biscuit.

A dog and now a Fox,
Rachel Fox

And some humans...
Karen (I've been patient)

Swiss(been at the stop over a week!)

Jeanne (two blogs) Lakatos

Mrs Niamh (4 blogs but I never heard o Gene Pitney)Bagnell

Argent ( Strange Luggage)

Dominic (Eno) Rivron

Willow (Mistress of The Manor)

Uiscebot (Colm-The short list King- Keegan)

The (Wonderful) Weaver of Grass

Sandra(Hold my Hand ) Leigh

( you can be sure of) Shug

The (fantabulous singing) Watercats

Heather (it's a definite maybe)

The muli talented P. Nolan

It's Aaargh! Argent

Kat (I'm talking on the back seat) Mortensen AKA Poetikat

NanU the genetecist, not Man U the football club

Cider with Wild Somerset Child
Another from Rachel Fox

24 hours from Tulsa

Dearest darlin I had to write to say that I won't be home anymore
cos somethin happend to me while I was driving home
and I'm not the same anymore

Oh I was only 24 hours from Tulsa
ah only one day away from your arms

I saw a welcoming light and stopped to rest for the night
and that is when I saw it
as I pulled in outside of a small motel
it was there and so I walked up to it
asked where I could get something to eat and they showed me where

Oh I was only 24 hours from Tulsa
ah only one day away from your arms

They took me to a big Bus ,I asked them if I could stay
they said okay

Oh I was only 24 hours from Tulsa
ah only one day away from your arms

Oh the poetry started to play
and nightime turned into day as we were listening closely
all of a sudden I lost control as I heard it's charms
and I caressed words, kissed them
told them I'd die before I let them out of my arms

Oh I was only 24 hours from Tulsa
ah only one day away from your arms

I hate to do this to you
but I love something new
what can I do
and I can never never never go home again

I'm staying on the Poetry Bus.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

The World's greatest poetry extravaganza!

All aboard

All aboard

all aboard with the double-deckers

tell your friends

that you'll be riding

on a double-decker

poets bus.

We've ditched the diesel, this bus runs on pure adrenalin, very eco friendly but we need poets, we need poems,we need blood, we need sweat, we need tears to get the adrenalin pumping like a sawn-off pump-action 12 bore to blast this benevolent behemoth into the stratosphere and across the skies to every corner of the virtual world and blow their minds ,and their lemon cotton socks off.

To infinity-And BEYOND!!!

(Mel Gibson. again?)

Friday, October 16, 2009

THREE is the magic number

Three wheels on my wagon and I'm still rolling along.Ask not, comrades, what poetry can do for you but what you can do for poetry.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

The wheels on the bus go round and round

Four, I say , four days till the Poetry Bus will be away with the mixer drinking diesel. Have you been down to the 'garage' or taken the Plath less travelled? Will there be a sonnet on the bonnet, will a villanelle ring the bell, will rhyme leave on time or free verse reverse out of the bus stop like a wheeled bat out of hell into the blogosphere? Only YOU can decide. Be there, or be somewhere else entirely nagged and niggled by regret that you weren't there.

A quick word now from Mel 'Braveheart' Gibson.

" This is one small drive for Bus Poets, but one intergalactic mystery trip for PoetBuskind.We may be speeding , we may have no lights tax or insurance, we may be pulled over by the intenet superhighway patrol, they may take our names and addresses, they may even take the bus, our money, our freedom but they'll never take our poetry! "

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

The Willow Manor Ball

........................SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME ?

Well I'm away today at the Willow Manor Ball, feeling tired but enthused by last nights Poetry Bus extravaganza.For such short notice I was amazed to get 20 passengers and Wow! some pretty coolio poetry too , yet again! Sorting stuff for this anthology is really tough.But thanks again to who all got aboard and made it another eclectic exciting memorable trip.I'm really anxious/excited about next monday's bus tour,hope to see you all there! For now I'm having a smashing time at Willow Manor, literally! I've had a few drinks and a few dances(mainly by myself with a crowd around me) and people were necking champagne and throwing their empty glasses into the roaring fireplace. I tried to join in with the spirit of the thing and launched a 42" plasma TV in as well!

I was going to wear me best 'Louis' suit (Copeland, not Vuitton) but I hadn't put it on since I married Mrs EEjit 14 years ago.It was a bit like trying to fit on my school uniform. I'm twice the man I was when I married her that's for sure. The only other suit I had was my birthday suit, so I decided, I would be daring, create a bit of a stir, make a bit of an entrance by going 'Au naturelle' Well not quite totally in the buff, my good brogues still fitted me and I found a lovely pair of lemon socks in the back of the wardrobe, so I was good to go. I was thinking of wearing my blue with white trim undercrackers but they didn't really go with the socks and I didn't want to make a show of meself.Anyways thanks a million to Willow for putting on such a gala event.Pop over and have a look, join in , stay for a drink and a dance!

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The Monday Poetry Bus

Okay, so it isn't quite Monday yet, but some passengers like to get on early and get a good seat-settle in with their bacon sandwiches (grilled goats cheese and sundried tomato paninis' for the vegetarians)There's a fully licensed complimentary Bar with fresh brewed coffee (latte's Americano's cappuccino's espresso's) and teas available.Also hot Croissants ,jam and butter, toast, honey,marmalade, full Irish breakfast all day, seafood chowder,pizzas ,pastas, curries, crisps , nuts, snacks,cakes and pastries.

I wrote two poems this one was slightly less worse than the other and has loosely something to do with the picture above (well in my head ayway!)
and probably a touch of the balloon pic.

The Songbirds

flew like a thousand red ballooons

reflecting sunrise in sunset ways,

but cold moons would drag me like the tide

away from my task.

Gun in hand,

mind over matter.

No matter how soft ,how sweet they sing,

a single shot will bring them down.

My moon is rising

I pull it's strings-Listen

how my comrades sing

life, hope and freedom .

Post your own poem on your blog and leave a message in my comments box letting me know so I can post a link to yours. Tanx ye!

First at the Bus stop are...



Rachel Fox



Wild Somerset Child

Dominic Rivron

Sunny Dunny


Sandra Leigh

Drama Queen



The Weaver Of Grass


Domestic Oubliette

Emerging Writer



Friday, October 9, 2009

Time for a quickie?

I'm like totally snowed under Dudes And Dudettes, my whole life is like frothy man,far- out, like a boomerang that hovers on the edge horizon ,but won't come back.Ya dig? But the word on the street today peeps is.... 'Can we do it ? YES WE CAN'
'The Poetry Bus' I mean, the anthology. I'm getting stuck in nut-by-nut, bolt-by-bolt. We're gonna build this baby and she's gonna fly like a wordy Birdybus.It all seems a bit daunting and I think it might just kill me , but sheeyat, if you're gonna go, you may as well go with something worth going for.
Rachel Fox is gonna help, Padhraig Nolan too and Susan Sanford has kindly offered to do some deadly cool illustrations. Watch this baby fly!

But Monday just won't be Monday without some poetreee so ,Bus Poets , here's a short notice ,off-the-cuff, task. Another photo prompt , I'm going to look for photos now from the TFE vaults and I'll put them on the top of this message.Pick your pic , then post your poem on your blog Monday 12th and leave a comment on mine so we can all link up.Good luck Bus passers and may the gods of diesel powered poetry be with you!

Wednesday, October 7, 2009


If ,when ye have moved Heaven and earth, murdered, pillaged and plundered, begged and tried to steal this garage DVD without success, then-and only then- you can do this task instead.

Go to this site listen to the poem first (headphones if possible) and then read it.If suitably inspired write your own.If not, copy the poem then cut all the words into individual pieces ,scramble them up and then put them back together in a new and unique way. (Thanks to fellow blogger and Bus poet, Swiss ,for that idea)You may have a finished poem or you may be able to make a poem of your re-formed jigsaw.

For newcomers and latecomers, the original Poetry Bus plan is in the previous post, this is plan B.


POETRY BUS -Tell me why? I didn't like Mondays!

Well people of the world, what a bus trip that was! I'd like to thank each and every passenger ,old and new, for getting on board and making it such an interesting journey. Each week I think it's the best week yet and this week was no exception.The standard and depth and rich variety of the writing has amazed and inspired me.

So much so that I want to compile some of the poems into an anthology. I've been thinking of this for a little while and if I actually say it, it will force me to follow it through- or at least give it a good lash! I'd like to try to include a poem by as many people as possible, that have been aboard the bus. I'd like to include some photography and some illustrations to accompany the poems and I'd like to call it simply 'The Poetry Bus. '
I would further like it to be a good quality publication , perfect bound (hopefully) , that you would be proud to be seen in. Do not think of it as vanity publishing- just a collation of our efforts for the craic regardless of the standard. There are plenty of those around already and I wouldn't get involved. I'm only thinking of doing this because it would make a fantastic book.

It's nice that the poems are on the net , but there is no substitute for a nicely made three dimensional book ,tactile and real . Who knows, if this works maybe The Poetry Bus might become a regular journal/magazine , or maybe a second anthology, but we'll cross that bridge if we ever come to it. I'd like to start by making a selection of the poems I like best and to see how many we have and how many we might need. It's hard for me to contact you all individually so please let me know if you have any comments /ideas/ or more importantly objections to your poetry appearing in this project. (copyright of the poem would remain with the author) In other words , everyone who has been on the bus can I publish your poem? Yes, or, no?

Also be aware that it might not be feasible. I do have an acquaintance involved in small volume publishng and will ask her advice.But before I do anything I need to hear all your approvals to go ahead. Tanx ye!

Now THIS WEEKS TASK is a bit more involved and could be a total disaster for many reasons but , faint heart etc. In fact because of the nature of the task I am alloting TWO WEEKS to complete the poem.In other words we will get on The Poetry Bus on Monday 19th October.

I want you to ,rent, buy *, beg, borrow or steal a copy of a film called 'Garage' (15 certificate 2007) starring Pat Shortt.Watch it (twice if you can) then write a poem.Whether you are moved, bored to tears, angry, happy ,sad, indifferent - let that be the inspiration. I want to see how one persons creative take on ' a life ' can influence another. Remember the poem doesn't have to be about the film, in fact it would be best if it were not. The film is a catalyst to provide a mood for writing.
Good luck comrades, may the force and a pint of plain be with you. Pip, pip!!
* buy the film at £6.98 and free delivery uk £1.88 delivery to Ireland. $28.99 free delivery United States. Is that expensive? Can ye rent it? If not look at clips on you tube?

Monday, October 5, 2009


Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a chickentikkamasalawithpilauriceandnaanbread? No! It's The Poetry Bus, ready to take us the feck out of here to over there, where the world is fresh and different and new, all bran spanking new and shiny -and stuff.

Well peeps it's been another bleddy long weekend and I thought that good old monday morning would never arrive.But it is here now , white is the new black and monday morn is the new friday night so grab your can of vimto and a bacon sandwich and get onboard The Poetry Bus, Jimmy The Butler is driving ,he is almost sober now so one more strong coffee and we'll be off!

I chose the pic of Brendan Behan's statue near Cross Guns Bridge along the Royal Canal in Dublin. My Mammy was born in Dublin and all Mrs EEjits family are Dubs.When I think of Behan, I think of Dublin, and when I think of Dublin I think of the past, because that's all they ever tell us about, particularly their childhoods! I also think of The Zoo and I know they are a bit unsuitable for animals really but lately I've just had this yearning to go , don't know why.

The auld triangle

We hibernated most winter
but roared like snotty lions in the spring
We were howler monkeys, whooper swans,
cheeky meerkats always looking for a better view.
Our dads were grizzly bears
who never let the hare sit,
and when they were angry
the women showed their arses-
(only metaphorically, not like baboons)
especially the big ones who
were all cellulite and combustion.
We swarmed like rats in the summer
and swam like seals in the sea,
lounged like lizards on the canals grassy banks
and slept like lambs in our beds.
Mam and dad would fight like cat and dog
then make up like love birds, months later
we would be quiet as mice while the new one came along
When we could we ate like pigs and
as we grew we drank like fish,
Goldfish, that went round and round the pale
but still, like elephants, we couldn’t forget.

All aboard, all aboard all aboard with the double-deckers!

First aboard, hold tight now!


Rachel Fox


Dominic Rivron

The Weaver Of Grass

Titus The Dog

Sandra Leigh


The Watercats


King Of The Camels

Niamh B


Domestic Oubliette

Drama Queen



P Nolan


Sunday, October 4, 2009

The word on the street is..ANGER !

Some people are born angry, some people achieve anger and then there are those who have it thrust upon them! I'm angry most of the time, I wasn't born angry, life has made me angry, things make me angry, people make me angry.DEMOCRACY makes me angry!
This deified plastic statue held and idealised and worshipped , used and abused ,fought over imposed on unsuspecting foreign lands, lauded and lamented in equal measure ,dancing down the dusty streets of reality hand-in-hand with it's domesticated silicone suck-up lover ,FREEDOM. And Comrades, you don't have to look to distant shores to find evidence of the crass double-speak of 'Fredom and democracy' you can find phoneyism , hypocrisy and manipulation,right here on our own doorstep.
The Lisbon treaty was rejected here first time roun.End of story,the plastic notion of democracy upheld.Or was it? But wait, the questioners didn't like the answer! Said (patronisingly) that we mustn't have understood the question! Gave them the WRONG answer!
You see folks all referendums are equal but some are more equal than others.You WILL give us the RIGHT answer, the answer that we dictate. That is how double-think democracy works. So we were asked again, this time with the full weight of money , government, E.U heads, newspapers,(national and local) the late late show, football managers, Michael O'Leary, every Tom Dick and Hary, they could find,bullying cajoling, begulling , threatening. 'Yes 'to jobs 'Yes 'to recovery! As if voting 'Yes' guaranteed any of these! They might have well included 'Vote YES for a cure for cancer'
Clever campaigning for sure, even the apparently independent referendum commission seemed weighted towards 'YES' This was politics mafia style , we were being made an offer we couldn't refuse. I'm amazed that there was actually provision for a 'NO' vote on the ballot paper at all!
THe effort, the sheer pressure,the hugeness of the campaign (and it only needed a few degrees shift) was a sledgehammer to a grape. And smashed we were. We have accepted the tip of an iceberg ,it's blackest depths hidden beneath the waters. Unsurprisingly South Dublin ,on average the richest area in Ireland ,polled the highest percentage of YES.They probably voted NO last time because they were still doing just fine, I'm alright Jack, but now in these recessionary times they've been beaten with a stick and tempted with the golden carrot of recovery , the good old Celtic tiger days where a small portion of the country robbed the rest blind and made a fortune through housing. Planning developing and building, back handers and brown envelopes side by side with breezeblock and mortar. Money they made hand over fist as prices spiralled out of control, banks joining the madness and Fianna Fail (but it could have been any of them) rubbing their greedy little hands together screwing the country instead of looking after their people.The people of Ireland ,the majority of whom now, are either in negative equity, or so far from the bottom rung of the property ladder that they would need a telescope to see it. Some through encouraged short sighted rampant greed ,others through no fault of their own.
Housing, a home for you and your family, should be a democratic human right, something a government would make a priority for it's people , not left to the open markets of naked greed and corruption.Democracy, true democracy, (if it ever existed) is officially dead and buried, no flowers please.

'What need you, being come to sense,

But fumble in a greasy till

add the halfpence to the pence

Democratic Ireland's dead and gone,

It's with O'Leary in the grave.'

(With no apologies to any fucker ,especially to Yeats.)

Friday, October 2, 2009


How would you like to have your very own personal, individual, totally unique piece of TFE art? Imagine the jealousy of your friends and neighbours, imagine the thrill of looking at it every day, bringing pleasure on an unparalleled level, imagine how it can only become a collectors item and eventually be worth a small fortune!

And it's so simple comrades, to grab a unique piece of TFE fine art all you have to do is donate, say €5 (or less or more, it's up to you) ,to third world charity ' Concern' at their website -it only takes a few clicks of the mouse.

When you have done this just leave a message in one of the TFE comments boxes with your email address and the subject you would like drawn.(I won't publish your email address) I specialise in portraiture so if you would like to email me a photo that would be fine. When it is done I will email you the finished image for you to print and frame.Imagine a truly amazing piece of TFE art memorabilia on your wall,it will probably be worth more than your house eventually and we will be doing a tiny bit of good along the way.

The ArtSparker experiment

The very talented ArtSparker invited us to finish off one of her drawings,so I did. Can you tell which bit is hers?

Thursday, October 1, 2009


Sorry to let you all down, but despite the runaway success of my latest poem,'Little Tommy Tucker' (already shortlisted for 3 major prizes) I have decided against publishing my other latest poem entitled 'Little Tommy Tunt'