ZANY SHANE

ZANY SHANE

Shane is planning to rob a bank

And decideS to trust me

‘She’d make a fucking brilliant getaway driver’,

He opines, and Gerry agrees.

‘Well, I don’t know,

I stop at zebra crossings,

And I’m pretty slow’.

‘See? That’s good,

If you were a fast driver

It would be very obvious,

No, a slow getaway driver is good’.

Later they sing;

‘Woman come in the name of love’,

And Shane shouts

‘I am a Catholic,

If I am dying please call a priest’.

‘Are you dying now?’

‘No, but I will be in the fucking morning’.

Then he laughs the bloody bar down.

SILENCE AT THE BAR

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SILENCE AT THE BAR

The old man grimaced and silently imbibed his pint
His withered wife glared her whole life at him
And pointedly moved to a seat
At the far end of the joint

Two sons, forty and finicky,
Silently contemplated the following day’s races
While the daughter and son-in-law,
Long run out of things to say,
Blew smoke in each other’s faces.

Only the children were living;
The girl was chandelier-swinging
And the boy was table-top walking.
“Shhh!” said the mother,
“be quiet you two rascals,
We can’t seem to hear ourselves talking”

from my collection of poetry – ’67’, now available @ http://www.amazon.co.uk/67-Poetry-Tom-OBriem-Book-ebook/dp/B00JVBLM9C/ref=la_B0034OIGOQ_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1412338420&sr=1-8
and http://www.tinhuttalespublishers.co.uk/product/67-2/