The Walls Are Stale
By Jimmy Dunne
They come here to drink and dance and drink and screw,
they come to fight about Jackets,
they'll stab you for your haircut,
the walls are stale with the smell of broken promises and unplanned pregnancies
They come here from miles around,
they leave their gaudy Micras outside, fighting about alloy wheels,
and there sits a tatty Corolla,
the walls are stale with the smell of spilled pints and bloodied knuckles
They stand around in their finest, cheapest gold,
It distracts the eye away from the Kickers jumper,
Beauty is cheaper than labels, it seems,
the walls are stale with the smell of cheap perfume and stupidity
I'm standing here, I'm looking at you,
you bring nothing good to life, it's good you try to kill each other,
truly, you are better off dead,
the walls are stale with the smell of puke and piss
where the walls are stale with the smell of puke and piss
Copyright © 2002; Irish Poetry Explosion. All Rights Reserved.