Sunday, 22 January 2012

Glass Distinction

Today I watched Mulleady’s man
collecting all those bottles and cans
Bottles of sin and cans of cheer
relics of Yuletide and vague New Year.
Green glass here and brown glass there
and white glass-mountains everywhere.
Green bin low and brown bin lower
white bin getting sick all over.
“Why do they go in different piles?
I asked the nice man; never smiles.
“It’s because of the colour, I suppose” he said,
Then he dumped them all in the self same bed
in back of the big truck, coloured blue,
where they couldn’t be seen by me or you.
There they mixed and splintered into one
and captured at their own speed the rays of the sun.
"It’s a bit like us" I thought out loud
colour divides the meek and proud
until their lives are spent and gone,
Then they melt together just as one.


  1. Fill me another glass of the same
    Cause my bottle is empty
    And I don't know my name
    The rats that are screaming
    Are all over the shop
    And all that I want
    Is another wee drop
    To take me to heaven
    At least for a while
    And warm my cold heart
    With a hint of her smile.
    Down in the dumps
    Where I languish in pain
    I hear her pass by
    And I call out her name
    But it's only the sound
    Of the wind in the trees
    As I try hard to hide
    From the cold Artic breeze
    That blows from the friends
    I once thought I knew
    Now as rare as a hole
    In a parish priest's shoe.