When I am out driving my car,
I love my car; it’s a fine old car,
I watch the road ahead,
The road ahead, for potholes ahead,
Irish roads are a disgrace,
It’s a pothole place – a dangerous place!
*
While out walking the street,
On my two feet, my own two feet,
I fell into a pothole big,
Very big – extremely big,
It broke my face, my poor old face,
It’s a shocking disgrace!
*
I wrote to the Council,
And told them this, that I hurt myself,
In a pothole big – extremely big,
They said me, poor old me,
They would sell me the stuff,
The pothole stuff,
So I could fill them in,
The potholes in,
*
It’s a funny old world, isn’t it?
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Blessington Lake, a place so surreal,
Where water joins land and matter joins meal,
A place of distinction renowned far and near,
A place of great solitude, but it covers a fear…
*
You see, this expanse of great water is hiding an act
A village that was covered long ago; it’s a fact.
Deep under the water it’s slumbering until.
The day it’s exposed again, resurrected, unfilled
*
Every now and again, when the weather’s so dry,
The depth of these waters, lowering at bit at a time,
Reveal the hamlet, usually beneath its cruel wake,
The streets and the cobbles, the houses in the lake.
*
When this comes about, bones surly move,
Rising up from the mud; it’s a fact, it’s been proved!
Pre-ambling about, amongst the ruins of their lives,
Rekindling old friendships, I tell you no lie.
*
The waters soon returning mire over it all,
Drowning the ghosts, the streets and the halls,
And no one will know or suspect that below,
Are the bones of lost loved ones asleep in that hole.
Altamont Gardens, standing alone,
Is a vision of excellence; garden and home.
Standing so proud, yet hidden from view,
Altamont Gardens is waiting for YOU.
Well, what are you waiting for?
Go visit it today!
Ireland is a cesspit,
Mired by bankers’ waste,
Brought down by their corruption,
Destroyed – and with such haste.
*
Where, oh where is the justice,
To punish these men of shame,
To make THEM pay for what they did,
Why aren’t THEY held to blame?
*
Why is it us, the average man,
And woman who takes the pain?
What did WE do, to be punished so,
We are CERTAINLY not to blame.
*
I think it’s all a part of some,
Big plan by those up high,
To take control of the world’s affairs,
To enslave us until we die.
*
You might laugh me, and say I’m mad,
Thinking such things – and how,
But the day will come; you’ll see that I’m right,
I only wish you’d see it now.
*
I say remove those jerks, those men in suits,
Each and every one,
Politicians too; they are just as bad,
Don’t rest until they are all gone.
*
Let’s start a New World Order, I say,
In which we, the people, soar high,
Where we can live in peace and wealth,
Unchained from corrupt men’s lies.
*
This day will come, make no mistake,
Men in suits, bereft of sense,
You will be punished, held accountable,
You’ll get your comeuppance!
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The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 