Can an old man send himself back into battle when young?
Should he say this time I won’t bite my tongue?
War has been described as when old men send young men out to die.
My young self is not quite dead, I don’t know why.
Is that what I am doing?
Apart from wooing.
All’s fair in love and war is a saying I have heard.
I don’t believe a word.
So I tell it as it is.
Politics is basically showbiz.
I don’t mean they never get it right.
Sometimes after a fight.
I dislike fighting, wrongs need righting.
I favour love and truth and all that stuff.
No, it is not guff.
Apply it in real life, what can I do, I write.
Day and night.
I also vote sometimes and do things other people do.
Like enjoy music and good humour, I presume I am the same as you.
I have friends too.
Van Gogh sold nothing in his life except one time.
I sold a rhyme.
I live and feed and eat and breathe oh yes, and drink.
When young I did not always think.
I like good people in whatever walk of life.
People doing their best and caring, with a butcher’s or a surgeon’s knife.
A drug is what you take to blot out life when you feel it is not good enough, it gives fake happiness, a substitute.
Jesus Christ, who speaks the truth?
Drugs are popular in many forms, perverted good.
I would explain it better if I could.
I am not one who doesn’t want to know.
Words no one wants to hear, I told you so.
The sad and tragic truth is we all do know, very well.
So why is life Hell?
Possibly on my gravestone I will write, oh well.
It seems pretty stupid to fight against false Gods, tremendous odds.
However, I am Irish, I don’t care and I do.
The Irish love talking, should I leave it all to you?
With my dying breath should I say I love you?
Whatever, I am still alive, not yet 95.
I would like a better world, a healthy Earth.
I give you my words for what they’re worth.
I want a world where every child is safe, why spell it out?
I am Irish, I don’t shut my mouth.
In the end of course I will be dead.
It will not be the case it was not said.
I could have stayed in bed.
I am awake, alive, who is not?
Not only those who have been shot.
Those who do not speak or act or care.
If you do, let me say I too am there.
Here and now and I care too.
Live your life, be yourself, that’s all I do.
Its sometime since I ate an Irish stew.
I do know wrong from right, must I fight?
Not when I say fighting is wrong, it depends what you mean by fight.
I love day and night.
I have not forgotten how to love, including conversation.
We are a talkative nation.
I’ll leave it at that, did I go on too long?
Should life be a sad or happy song?
Why can’t we get along?
I am alive, I have not given up.
I will not shut up.
As far as wrong goes, don’t.
As far as right goes, do.
I talk to you.
As far as I myself am personally concerned I should probably give myself a good talking to.
May a person who is imperfect preach perfection?
I myself am open to correction.
At least try.
The evidence lies before you, do you want more?
I find myself not guilty of failing to adore.
I am no hanging judge, at least in my own case.
Sometimes I do not wash my face.
My clothes are a disgrace.
This does not invalidate what I say, I stick by every word.
And some you have not heard.
I hope this epic has not made you sick.
And did the trick.
I preach perfection, I give lessons, I am a trainee.
On that we may agree.
Don’t be like me.
Perhaps someday you may give evening classes at night.
And tell me not to talk shite.
19th May, 2019