Dark Days

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Why is my bed not happy?
Why is my chair not sad?
Why isn’t a watch full of envy?
Why is my pen not mad?

Because they are inanimate objects?
At least that’s what science says so…
But I always hated that subject,
Trust it? or stick to what I know?

How is a brain any different,
to a bed or a pen or a chair?
They all came from atomic elements
As physical as the paper we tear.

So how on earth can it be
that I possess personality?
As I fall back on my bed
A scary thought swirls in my head;

I’m sad to say not a tear was shed.
I’m sad to say… This world is dead.

Alex Herlihy – 2009

Swimming Carnival Bogans

0ff06e0a0bc5340c98d7fa63004f0dcf[1]I sat down at the swimming carnival today
Searching for rangas with the ranga that is Ray
And had fun watching the buff, the bluff and the gay

Laugh at Diow trying to dress up as a doll
Hear “If you can’t swim you’ll be paying me a toll”
Seems that English have the announcements under control

So it’s time to buff up for the tug of war.
Everyone jumps in as the rest of the school snore
“This is so rigged, they can’t even touch the floor!”

We’ve won! It’s the end! Make that two
We have the rope in the shape of a horseshoe
Yet even with both ends we fail to drag it through

Oh great I can’t see, it must be the splashing
The carnival equivilant of a good chest bashing
We want to rub in the fact that we gave them a thrashing

I usually watch and laugh, spy and hide.
But not today, no sitting out; I enjoyed the ride
It’s so strange to be in it rather than off to the side

The Asians have whipped out their magic cards
The canteen still hasn’t started serving lard
And of course, “Dennis! Why are you such a retard?”

Dennis just takes it all with a grin
Oh crap, the tiredness is kicking in
As I throw my first bogan in the bin

I wake up to find chaos and fun
Looks like Randall found himself a gun
I hear someone behind me scream “Run bitch run!”

I turn to find all the black guys laughing
Some small year seven has just been sent flying
A certain teacher wants lunch upon punishment of dying

I sit up to watch the peruvian wave
A random year eleven who’s having a shave
The year seven who fails, but was extremely brave

Davies getting shot in the wrong direction
As Derek displays his pokemon card collection
And Ridley finds cricket at the point of inflexion

The second bogan is getting run down.
As Warrigal recieves the carnival crown
Luckily this year no year sevens drowned.

Alex Herlihy – 2010

Hugs

Ahh but you see,
hugs are not something
I give out for free

And quite smilarly
I do not accept them
Merely as charity

I’ve always been told that I’m rather cold, prefering my own company.
Only ever see a hug, as something of a bug, I’m not touch and feely

Whatever a hug means to you, I’ll respect
A hug that is free is not wasted on me.
I love a good hug, I love to keep snug,
Yet you’ll get no hugs from thee.
For I don’t agree with the philosophy
That a hug should be a mere charity.
I see a hug as something special,
I do not treat them as trivial.
So you can hug me but if I hug you,
See the situation differently;
Don’t feel my arms, don’t feel “me”.
No… Feel safe, Feel happy.
Feel loved.

Alex Herlihy – 2009

The Ace of Hearts

I have before me a card. It is Jumbo sized Art. ace-of-heartsmassive
It has a story, this card. It is the Ace of Hearts.
I found it, or stole it, one black day
With the sky from the clouds raining grey.
“Missions” he called it, laughing with glee
and flickering eyes that betrayed his honesty.
I had naught to juggle, and nothing to squeeze
but then someone out there warmed to my pleas;
Two jumbo sized packs, one of red, one of blue.
I silently start shuffling, and watch as I do.
He bounces up and down all around the room,
Cramped as it is, there’s not the slightest boom
The cards I am shuffling are now being sorted.
The blue pack is missing the cards most important.
This fiend before me protects his best
Breaking the rules? nothing to contest
The four aces he keeps close to his heart,
But I know where they are, at least in part.
I look up from my royal flush,
My poker face doesn’t betray as much
and see this monster calling for help
But with a mad grin, not a loud yelp.
“Missions” he calls it, laughing viciously
The angel in the room jumps up immediately.
Well there you go, that seals my fate
Again into darkness to head a clean plate
I stand up and prepare to brave the rain
and I laugh at the other’s looks of pain.
As the cards go smack down upon the table,
The demon rushes out the door with my angel
I’m ready to run, pursue, protect and die
But something has stopped me, caught my eye
His four aces are there and so heavily exposed
lust for an angel; As a hole in defence, it shows.
There is only one card that I care to take
One of four aspects that I intend to break
The club is his skills, his practice and trade
The genius to which that combines is his Spade
The diamond is his luck and face but in part,
it is his amazing ability to abuse the heart.
I grabbed the card, the organ throbbing in fright
I Stuffed it in my pocket and clenched it tight.
Run out the door into the rain,
past the overflowing storm drain.
The water coming down as a wall
I run and slip and avoid a fall
There’s always the light of the angel before
Beautiful hair showing me through the downpour
All the while I clenched the card, I never let go
Despite it’s burning black blood ruining the show
But I got through to the end of the night
When I got home I knew I had won the fight
The demon failed again, as the angel survived
His heart is disfigured and no longer alive
It’ll grow back, such an ungodly sight
To him the loss of a heart is slight.
But it will never be the same one, and that’s fine
Because this is no longer his heart, it’s mine.
This is a symbol for the angel; I have her not him
But I vow I will not abuse her under light dim.
I’ll not rip it in half, I’ll never set it on fire
But I’ll never ever use it like that horrible liar.
And now I sit here, with Heart’s Ace before me
The crease through the middle should tell you its’ story.

Alex Herlihy – 2010

Spiral

thumb[1].pngWhenever he draws that spiral, everyone’s eyes glaze over; It’s obviously just another diversion. But there are three people in the room who notice that swirl, and four who understand it; The Riddler, the Politician, the Redhead and the Poet.

If the other eyes are glazing, then the enlightened four’s eye is the fire.
Like a fingerprint, this flame is unique for each of them.
The Riddler reflects knowledge, and reveals a candle.
It burns within wisdom, not without time.
The Politician captures ambitious modesty,
And sends a smile of realisation over his shoulder.
The Redhead blinks osmosis, green fire, blue smoke, red sky.
Both sub specie aeternitatis and ignorance lie in that eye.
But the Poet can’t know the fire in his eyes;
Mirrors and windows are someone else’s reflection.

He can only believe it is there,
and try to guess at its true nature.
People say he knows everything.
Yet they are foolish for thinking he knows anything.
The people who make such wild claims about “He”,
Should realise what a God that makes “Me”,
And retract the claim if they believe and fear Hell.
If they don’t? Their hypocrisy would have God as a mere poet regardless.

Of eternity, reality, infinity, God. The poet is not.
They are all reflections of a single eye’s idea.
Not his eye.
He can see another’s reflection, but never notice his own eye.

All four understand that spiral,
But only the Riddler, Politician, and Redhead notice it.
The Poet does not notice it. Why?
Because he can see it…

Alex Herlihy – 2009

The Art of Words

Words are magic4dec435fca431c676044403387e323aa[1]
Sounds to shiver the spine
Sooth a crying child
Provide guide for the mind

Words are weapons,
Tools to strike and parry
Deflect and Deliver
Cut down and compliment

Words are power
Skills to create and destroy
Friends and enemies
Influence a whole crowd

Words are music
Lyrics to love and hate
To Sing and To hear
Make sense of the world

Words are masks
Faces to hide and show
Inside and outside
Subterfuge and smile

Words are emotion
Greens from red and blue
Truth and Beauty
Prison of stray thought

Words are everything
Worlds of Magic and Weapons
Power and Music
Masks of all emotion

Alex Herlihy – 2009

You must specialise in broken hearts

eyesarewonderful6.png“You must specialise in broken hearts”
That’s a line I’ve always had in mind
Knowing where to put it is a fine art
Skill and mastery to which I was blind

Ever since the last word was said
These words have lingered behind
For I failed to hold a redhead
Those words were not mine to find

No one spoke them, they were not written
These words are the product of silence;
Delicious, but not my words to be eaten
Beautiful, and yet for me far too tense

So whom is the elusive subject of my quote?
At first I thought it was my Ranga rejector
The one who left two broken boys on a boat
The memory that will never shut it’s door

But no matter how hard I tried
Sixty stanzas couldn’t fit it in
To force any phrase I would have died
Because I knew it wasn’t her within

After a few months of regression
I decided to learn from a mistake
Very soon it came to my attention
That I had a uni course to take

Who should happen to be attending?
Another redhead, another chance
A few long weeks of pretending
Previous mistake made my luck enhance

But all of a sudden again it’s occurred
I don’t want to lose another friend
Another audition for my great words
Let’s see this through to the end

Irony, I managed to win this time
But not before falling apart anyway
It was almost like the perfect crime
That quote I almost had cause to say

Once again, the words don’t work
Why on earth can’t I fit them in?
It makes me cringe and smirk
All those guys hearts are her epic win

If anyone were to receive the phrase
It would absolutely have to be her
But no, even after hours and days
How to use the words is a blur.

I have tried and tried and tried
And many have stepped up to fill the spot
My efforts are nothing, I’ve only cried
It’s only recently that the answer was caught

Someone lusts and rages and wants
I stopped him quite immediately
Another heart broken behind the taunts
And so it hit me almost evilly

There could only be one who fills the mould
Could shred that organ into a million parts
With a grin and glinting eye, I’ve been told
“You must specialise in broken hearts”

Alex Herlihy – 2010

What were the odds?

I look at the overhead projector;
A list of names each in their own sector.
There is one that’s strangely familiar
and it sounds eerily similar,

To a name I had forgotten long ago
The name of a girl I once did know.
I slowly turn my head around
As I look back my eyes uncloud

They come to rest on a face
and it was at a very fast pace
that it became much more familiar
and started to look eerily similar,

To the face of a girl I once did know
and was my friend six years ago.
She answers a question with her voice,
and I finally remember! Inside I rejoice.

How on earth could I forget?
That amazing girl, “Karla Burnett”
She’s been at Hornsby since year seven
And I only found out in grade eleven!

I travel home in amazement and wonder
This was too much of a happy blunder
Doubt… is it too good to be true?
Uncertainty… is it really you?

Because what are the odds
that these XORs and MODs,
could bring me at last
to this ghost from my past?

Of course something had to go wrong
I had known her for surprisingly long
But MY face was not recognised
a memory evading her magical eyes

She did not remember me!
A Six years corrupted memory.
For three weeks I lay low
How on earth to let her know?

At last I could stand it no more
I drop all I know to the floor.
I don’t know if it has any effect
Until I have a ticket to collect

I fail to communicate exactly what I need
To the ticket-teller taking the money I feed
But someone stalks up from behind
Someone who has the words I can’t find

With a grin
Karla conveys the correct choice
I smile within
“Thank you… for being my voice”

We all sit comfortably, talking on the train
Repression of a question at back of my brain
Somehow the discussion turns to the past
I meet her eyes and know it’s time at last;

Time slowed down as I finally let it free
“I remember you, do you remember me?”

Alex Herlihy – 2009

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The Journey is more Important than the Destination

I ran, I ran so far awayokalinichenko-sports-running_u-l-ptdii20[1].jpg
Oh how far I ran that day
No obstacles came my way
Before me a long path lay.

I did not in the slightest care
that the path was a circle
I could go as fast as a hare
or as slow as a turtle

and it would make no difference
How fast or slow I run
speed is of no consequence
The reason? There is but one:

I have to run as far as I can
An insidious curse has been placed upon me
The destination is not important
But I would die if not for the journey

There is a demon in my chest
And it will not let me rest
Until I have seen the whole road
Achieved that state of beast mode

It is momentum that cannot last
A state that is ludicrously fast
It lets you move at a speed
Sure to put you in the lead

But this is impossible to attain
I wanted it once, if only for fame
I travelled to see the speed king
Demanded that he tell me one thing

How on earth I run that fast
when my muscles will not last
The speed is physically impossible
making it extremely desirable

This was a god whose time I was wasting
He laughed and set the ground shaking
“You would have to earn it, this is MY power
I am not Prometheus. I will not drop the fire”

I should have backed down
But instead I wore a frown
“I can do anything you demand
Run on water, swim on sand

I have flown without wings
Around the devil I run rings
I have seen the center of this earth
and I understand life’s true worth.

There is nothing that I fear
I have kept my enemies near
I am as powerful as the thunder
I could have you torn asunder

Unless you grant me my only wish
you will become inferior to a fish
And you know I will make sure of it
When delivering revenge I do not quit”

Only then did I see my mistake
I gasped and turned to escape.
The sky exploded the clouds came down
Turning sepia, everything went brown.

The sea rushed towards me
A wave of a million swords
Each one laughing with glee
Music of the most evil chords

The mountains rose higher
The forests moved around
The deserts became fire
Heaven fell to the ground

I was swept up onto a rock
Higher then all else I perched
So there I did take stock
Below me reality lurched.

The voice returned, it made me tremble
It was so powerful, and too terrible.
“You are nothing to the likes of me!
You dare question my authority?”

This was overwhelming. He was so strong
If I keep this up I’ll be dead before long.
Tears fell, I knew this was the end
I collapsed to the floor, my legs didn’t bend.

Suddenly there was silence
But his voice was in my head
It whispered away my defiance
And swept out all my dread.

“You want to run that fast
Even if your muscles won’t last?
I will not give up the secret
You yourself must go and find it

You must run for all eternity
Faster then me? Uncertainty.
But run hard enough and you will find
The thing that has plagued your mind

But I have made it harder to win
For you now have a demon within.
You will not stop you will not rest
until you have accomplished the quest.

But have some fun, enjoy the journey
Of beautiful things you will see many.
Now go and run as far as you can
Never forget that you are just a man.”

I knew what I had to do
Run and run over fields of blue
Run up mountains run down stairs
Run through the evilest of lairs.

Running and running until I see
The revelation that sets me free
The secret of travelling so fast
That future becomes present and past.

But this demon prevents all
It is a great physical wall
That stops me from running fast
Because my chest becomes glass

Just that extra bit of speed
and my innards will shatter
Every time I feed the need
That demon makes me splatter.

How can I discover the answer
when I cannot run like a panther?
Beast mode was already hard enough
Now I’m completely out of puff

But I know how to beat my demon
I will put an end to his screaming
If I simply run for a long time
This will remove his fowl grime.

Once he’s gone I will be free
I will run at full capacity
And at that speed I will find out
the elusive secret without a doubt!

Until then I must wander and roam
I must run. And run without a groan.
Speed does not matter, only distance
I’ll give this demon full resistance.

I mark that day down in my head
That day I could have been dead
I ran far, I did not wait
So far the trip has been great

I’ve seen a lot since then
and I would do it all again
The demon still lives inside
And I almost don’t mind.

That demon is why I’ve seen all this
He’s the reason that I run in bliss
Through the fields of red snow
Caves where we don’t normally go

The great pools of starlight
The rolling hills of fire
Coal heaps that shine bright
The sacred sun spire

Out of the realm eternal
and into the lair infernal
The green beaches of purgatory
The places found in a story

I don’t really care where it is I go
When I run the world puts on a show
Why run fast when there’s so much to see?
I’m enjoying this endless journey.

But at some point I will beat
the demon sticking to my feet.
It is my mission to run this road
at the speed known as beast mode

I will take this assignment
with no hesitation
The journey is more important
than the destination

Alex Herlihy – 2009

Not Again

I always thought he was the enemyThe-Girl-in-the-Spiders-Web-Movie-Wallpapers-9[1]
In that simple – not quite love – triangle.
“We’re still learners” was forever in mind
Mistakes of the past never left behind.
I regret nothing. I would do it all…
again? Yes. In exactly the same way;
No difference to my actions, because
The past is only a chain of events
That have led me to where I am right now.
To break that chain, is to commit murder –
Bloody murder, murder, murder most foul.
I am not who I was an hour ago,
That hour was but another link of chain
And I sit now in the present, gazing,
back at the links of my amazing chain.
Some of the links are stronger and harder
to imagine the chain lacking; the past,
The events, the links and the memories
without which we are nothing of ourselves.
If you break a single link in a chain
You break the chain, you kill the present: You.

This was one of those events, tragedy
I could never be here without knowing.
And so I look back and laugh at the fool
that used to be me, his stupid mistakes.
And I learn. That triangle, was not won.
Events from that triangle are again
like bad omens, jumping up on my chain;
A redhead. A good friend. And a formal.
I can see a new triangle forming
Again I must run the hypotenuse
But experience and foresight are mine
I have the advantage of time, and space –
yes, I live closer then him on a map.
But he already knows her, not as I
would come to. But they were on friendly terms.
Funny how futile this was, everything
I was doing, only set up more pain.
I did not want to lose a friend again.

Shakespeare was right you know, with Othello;
Suspicion and Jealousy can drive you,
usually mad, but sometimes to success
and quite rare when it happens to be both.
This triangle never was one of love
I always thought he was the enemy
And in doing so only made him one.
Mistakes only seemed to be repeating
themselves, and I was ready to cry, die.
“I give up”; Those words which I never say
passed by my lips that day in ignorance
of the victory that I had achieved.
Despite all the evidence; I had won!
But the announcement had to come too late
The triangle had grown more than three sides.
It was a web, horrible and tangled.
I escaped to one side and hung over
the edge, holding on by a thread – not red
No, this was not a redhead. An old friend
who delivered me my true victory;
An invitation, the sweetest success.
Everything would have been perfect but no,
She had to be stuck in the webs center.
The spider in this web had lost it’s prey;
“She couldn’t come today” and retreated
to the center of this web it had spun.
He was the real enemy from the start
Always there, but that’s not the scary part,
He thinks like me. That sparkle in his eye
Same as the smile that I tend to wear
His thoughts, to me, were déja vu. No more.
So I am competing with me, myself
and almost I. Rodriego wants to try
for the part. He tries to be like me more
then he realises. The tangled web
got infinitely more tangled for me
When Rodriego tried to become master.

A web is not like a chain – break as much
as you want and a web will still remain.
But if I killed the spider… no more web,
only a simple triangle again.

Alex Herlihy – 2009