For Saoirse

“We are the music makers… and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

For his love Saoirse

There has been a slow loss of interest

(a self awakening)

from the inner circus

of Sheffield..

The path from The Cremone

to The Lesscar down to

the backyards of Coppola

where the fools gather

Saoirse was omnipresent

in her attention seeking

from The Vine

the fair weather friends

was fine

Saoirse was the village fool

in a drunken state she stood

side by side with The Racist

at The Washington

there was no degree

of separation

just a movement of

the Middle Class

the unassuming persons

are self evident

the image of Saoirse

was looking back

from the line of powder

on the reflective surface

and The Monkeys are cool

but the fool

might look good on The Dance Floor

in a state of exacerbation

the intensification

of the high

will not mask the lie

of the hypocritical Saoirse

bullshit flowing from her mouth

the fair weather friends

are not from Sheffield

it did not matter to Saoirse

they thought the monkey was her lap dog

the truth all ways self evident

of how those who was

nowt but southern bastards

at one with Saoirse

they chose

the dysfunctional lifestyle

to be at one

with the northern masses

they fail

to understand us the working classes

that there are sometimes no choices

for people like Saoirse..

She sat naked on the bed

in the morning light

sitting up the chestnut hair

fell over her breast

he left the room

asking Saoirse

if she wanted brekfrost

she continued to read the rant or was

a profound poem of self reflection

he had written while watching her sleep

on the white sheets the contrast

of her pail skin the flow of words

like the chestnut hair on the pillow

was like an hate-full of hollow

truth was always hard to be told

he sat holding her hand

and neither had broken contact

for Saoirse the paranoia of fear

was always near

her past self

was a ghost of history reputation

though not present she was still

part of the conversation

he kissed her on the forehead

on the bed they fell

holding each other

oh how they loved Sheffield

but the fools was another matter..

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