Showing posts from 2017

"Monday" - a poem or a short rant about life and death

I can feel that metal buckling And I’m not sure where or when,
Maybe now or maybe a little further on down the line.
Well that bend she’s fast approaching
And you’re running short on time,
And don't you know as luck would have it, baby so am I.
So to all the girl’s I’ve kissed
And the friends with whom I’ve drunk and reminisced
It’s never easy – not when time keeps passing by
And the end ‘aint very fair
(It's) Not like we’re ready – we’re barely there
But that don’t mean this wasn’t a heck of a ride
To all I’ve loved
And all I’ve fought
And all I’ve learned
And all I’ve taught
I’m just so fucking grateful for having been alive.
And a second, a day, a week or a year
It’s all the same to me, my dear
I’m just so glad to have had you in my life
And to all the drunks and all my friends
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again
I’d fight for every one of you till the end
But I’m sober now, and I must reflect
For Time she's come to collect her debt
I was never much good at cards or making a bet
I laid i…

Genesis - a short story on fatherhood and the death of the artist

The father looked at his child. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked. The child responded with a crooked smile. "Your patience, your virtue, your compassion, and your servitude but not your potential; you can cut that bit off, I like you just how you are."
genesis ₢2017 C.SeanMcGee

Happy Birthday

You shall be seen only by those you have never met, heard by those of whom you have not spoken, and understood by those you do not know. In companionship we find then, solace; a kind of umbrage or abscondence from one's self.
Take Risk and Take Care,


a yellow breasted bird on an old fruit tree fluttered its wings as it left what a sight to be seen; for a man such as thee on the tip of his very last breath
alas nothing grew in the garden again, not a flower; not even a weed nothing but a stone, and a wreck of a home and the roots of an old fruit tree but a day it would come, when as yellow as the sun, fell a feather from a little bird's breast for above it did flutter; with no quiver or stutter where the man and the tree lay at rest

suicide ₢2017 c.seanmcgee

Pé na Cova (one foot in the grave)

"Why wait?" I said. "Why hesitate? "What good is one day from another?" You just laughed, and slapped my back; "That's a good one," you said. "That's a real good one, my brother." And so we drank to all our worries, And we drank to all the blues. And the sun it rose in a miserable light, As we drank to all of the truths. The truths we had forgotten, And those we'd rather forget. To the ones which proclaimed us a villains, And to those which we owe a great debt. And so we drank to the end of times, To love and its inevitable end. And we stumbled off home in the wee hours of dawn, Just a prick and his miserable friend.

One Foot in the Grave C.SeanGee ₢2017