About Gerard

I'm mad about music and poetry. Occasional spoken word performer. Dabble in calligraphy and most things inky. From Derry, Ireland. https://twitter.com/ofgcryan

Resident

There was a block of flats which called themselves apartments because there were long hallways lined with doors and through these doors were dwellings or flats or apartments.

The residents or inmates or people didn’t see any reason to close their doors on this hallway, so as you paced its length you would hear and see all sorts. Most of this was not from the people through the doors but from the people inside the TVs inside the apartments.
You could walk up and down for hours on end, watch through a door for an hour, and no one would notice. I lived in the hallway for over two decades and my presence didn’t seem to be intrusive. Even when I watched on as a teenager tried to slit his own wrists, was calmed down by his mother, given his first drink and asked important questions like ‘would you like another?’ to which he’d respond ‘of course’ because he couldn’t say ‘I don’t care’. There would have been more questions so he didn’t have the heart for apathy.
It was a funny place to live, this hallway. So many voices gave no conversation because answers that mattered didn’t matter here but silence wasn’t tolerated.
I was content for a long time living here but I left to see what conversation was like. People who keep their doors closed can be much more interesting, I’ve found. But some people make me wonder if their doors are just painted paper.

comedian

D.D. had a way of saying nothing
even matters with
a deadening smile.

 

it tried to pry its teeth out by the rotting
spongy mouldy gums
to see if it cried.

 

the blood and pus that followed only served
to make the joke seem
oh so funny we could die.

 

the flow of comic bloody props had halted
but the laughter it would
carry through the night.

 

the jester starts again the next day
until there comes a time when
it itself can die.

 

but time forgot to follow little D.D.
is the punchline
rotting from the inside.

 

tried and failed and missing death but falls –
applause – the funny man
who always seems to smile.

Right Now

When I was a kid I refused to go to bed.
Instead, I’d wait for my mother’s threat
‘I wish… I wish… I wish the goblins would take you away’
she’d say.

 

As I grew up, the Goblin King helped me address the fear,
kept me from hiding beneath the blankets.
The roles reversed and now
you have power over me, Goblin King,
clear to see as the world falls down
just because you left it.

 

And to anyone that needs it:
I wish the goblins would take you away. Right now.

either way

funny funny funny

screamed at my eyes and maybe it is

or i’m selectively blind

or a sociopath because it’s funny

to them but not me

‘funny funny funny’

i scream then get weird looks

because you can’t say it’s funny unless

you’re a psychopath

or maybe it was my staring

in expecting acceptance

because i’m selectively blind

and I can’t see what’s

funny funny funny

 

Tongue

with sweet malice they slice
or soften the core.
the cutting scorn negated by pressing passions.
it speaks in vibration manipulation,
in movements of little flicks and grand scheme gestures,
gleams of glistening yearning and dripping in loathing.
languid loving then quick cutting,
crosshair and shooting
silver bullets with cupid’s arrows.

the body’s natural polygamous polyglot.

kissing lust into submission,
throwing sharp retorts of poison.
us animals licking the wounds of the full hearted.
the unwanted
and adored.
the abhored and
stranded.

some wounds,
as primal as the pulse,
need tended.

Sentenced (XXI-XXVII)

Six little children and a timid wife

were the source of fourteen adoring eyes.

What they didn’t know was how I despise

myself unable to give a good life.

How could they have known my personal strife?

I didn’t want them to know, those sweet eyes.

I would raise them to a home in the skies

and they won’t even remember the knife.

 

But the eyes never stopped gazing at mine,

no longer a gaze of adoration

but with a look that scorns my selfish crime.

Lord, please save me from my mind’s mutation

and close their eyes which exist beyond time!

Or, forever, just close mine – please close mine!