PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When taking a trip to the side of Illinois

St. Patrick's day it's not but nonetheless the joy



Green Clovers on these shoulders



happiness pure joy.



and everything covered in March's sudden snow

from the assembly hall to the street it falls below



Oh the Chief murdered in this place, Unoficially too great to ever see his face







Pearly Whites, they cause the fights

Fighting or ...or...

Fighting or



Balanced on the tabel-top of a multitude of pain

Blooded by the head of police, borne from the fairy's chain



Even in my best behavior I am no one's official savior

I am standing all alone

I am falling all alone



And there i fell on the sidewalk in my worst condition

all my Irish superstition

spun my face into the shock of warm hot blood



oh how it mixes with the fallen snow

sitiing head between my knees my fate i've come to know



who deserves the punishment for something born tonight

who deserves the violence defended, the offened or the right?



who's side was no one on when they commit to flea

oh the sirens

oh the red and blue



the friends are foes the men as stones

and me i'm too bad to see



take a look my smile will find its way

there is more, oh i deplore, to smiling than teeth to me



Blood is thicker than, thicker than the Clover greened think

As are those who's livers froze with glycerine to drink



fighting or loving

fighting or loving i'm irish

falling and shoving

falling and shoving is not my wish



Who among the gathered, took in what I had felt

from the sidewalk to the ambulence, the face that i had felt.



Who deals the punishment, who here deals the pain?

who here is the lawful and other left insane



who needs retribution, who here needs the pride

I am broken, in my mouth and deep inside



Unofficial is officially heading for my head

this my thought in the hospital's whitewashed bed



The 23 enigma the fated fates drew me in

Casimir Pulaski Day for the Illini take my grin





unofficially i am

billy goat gruff

blood and snow, green and grow

all the matter's standing tough

pressing matters pressing charges

where's the guilty plea

falling the the unconcscious

sidewalk hold my blood for me

the face in the mirror i would rather not to see





the man of answers signed Sigmund Froid

said the Irish couldn't be explored

My Mouth, the riddled void

deathened dead for pain my Lord

I'd never wish

The Irish Kiss

Official Bliss on Thee



The fighting ends, oh God it ends, within the context of Me