No End To Time

We were boys back then, when days were longer.

We were stronger, too, in body and in mind. In time

perhaps we would weaken and soften, but in the now of then,

no end was in our mind, not yours, not mine,

there was no end to time.

We were hard and proud, eager, loud,

happy, stupid, drunk on beer and being young,

though we did not know then

just what that meant.

It meant being more alive

than ever we would be again.

Moving on from booze and song,

we fell apart and into what was yet to come.

The moment we began to think of others

our youth began to leave us.

Our selfish armour pierced by the lance of love

and the prick of its thorny crown, we found

there was more than just our self to centre on.

From the moment after being young,

little leavings of ourselves fell all around us,

dribbles and trickles of what had been

invincible lay in mortal ruins at our feet.

We die in increments.

What you had been was gone too soon,

crashed out in a welter of steel

and a sixteen-wheeler that you never passed

on a road coming back from your future.

Your mortality ruined me, my friend.

I had not yet learned to live.

I Love A Pub

I love a pub. It feels

Homely to me, a place

Of comfort and ease. It

Pleases me, the hubbub

And the chunter and the

Banter and, sometimes,

The chunder.

Well, not so much the chunder.

I love the open heart

Of it, being part of it, being

Where the life is, the laughs

And all the funny biz

That happens all around

The place when you’re

Sitting there with


Talking shit,

Acting up a bit,

Going for the craic.

I’m happy here,

Just drinking beer, though

I learned a sad truth lately.

I can’t do it, can’t handle it,

Unless the drink is gravy.

An Old Friend

I met an old friend

He’s happy with his life now

I’m happy for him


Namaste, Dr. Banks