PURPLE THOUGHTS.

Streams of comedy and tragedy

Churning in same channel; that’s life.
Nights I lie pondering, wondering
Whatever became of my ideal wife?
I met her once on a train in Kildare,
Gins and tonics in Naas,
By Maynooth the plan turned swiftly sour,
Ill feeling broke out twixt her and her face.

We’re all mere shadows in a material world,

All promise is in the shaft of an axe,
Honesty and truth are lonely pilgrims,
Conspiracy travels in packs.
If there’s nothing in your past; conceal it!
Look me in the face when you tell me a lie,
If you believe in Purgatory, pray for the dead,
The guilty will feel shame; by and by.

Hunger and hate, love and the need to know,

These are the constant drivers of life,
Did God write down the word of God?
Did the butcher invent the knife?
Are we shadows of our former shadows?
Where would shadows be without light?
Law, the purple shadow that blots out justice,
Only Reckitt’s Blue makes a whiter white.

While I eye-sweep the length of the mantelpiece

Silent lofty guardian of the fire,
Two-faced clock looks down her evening nose
At beech and bog, red pyre.
Where now all those abandoned dreams?
All those thoughts we remembered and forgot,
How can you be free if you shake the hand of fear?
A parliament of sand will surely be our lot.

LEAVIN'

“I’m leavin’ in the morning” she said,                                                                                         

I said “where might you be goin’?
She said “there’s no way of knowin’,
If I stay here I’ll shortly be dead”.

So she hopped on a bus and big silver plane

To fly her to shore far away,
My choice was to stay or to stay,
My loss or sanity’s gain.

She arrived, I heard, the weather was grand,
Escape; no gossip, no mist,
And I filled my gullet, got pissed,
And she filled her pockets with sand.

She passes her time behind tiny bar,
Lattice of bars is my lot,
I fingered the things she forgot
And saved her pearls in a jar.

She’s getting’ on well now, I’m told,
In that place of sardine and sun,
One cup and saucer, one penny bun,
Priceless; or lump of fool’s gold?