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Kevin Raymond

of

Borehamwood, England, UK

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Me and Johnny Jumpup

by

Kevin Raymond

As lonely as life sometimes gets
As I sleep in the park
With a bottle of Johnny Jumpup
I've company when its dark
The stars above all wink at me
The trees bow in the wind
They know I like a drop or two
But its not as if I've sinned!
The darkened sky is friendly
As is its mate the moon
I would'nt want to miss any of this
So I never sleep too soon
The leaves are a carpet for my feet
If I wanted to walk about
But as all the beauties in the sky
A walk I'll go without
The grass will start to glisten
As the dew comes with the morn
Things like this are priceless
Though other folks may scorn
The owls hooting in the trees
Is music to my ears
I'd miss these things if I'd a house
Which I have'nt had for years
The pram with my belongings in
Is always parked nearby
The park-keeper thinks I'm pretty sound
So he'll turn a blind eye
Me and Johnny Jumpup
Are locked in every night
The pair of us never argue
We've never had a fight
Lets say I'd a wife and kids
Could I say with certainty
That I'd have the kind of relationship
That Johnny Jumpup has with me?
When the gates are locked and I'm alone
Life to me is free
With my best friend Johnny Jumpup
Do I need the likes of ye???


A Cause For Concern?

by

Kevin Raymond

The behaviour of our troops at war
Is reason for concern
Do we adhere to the Geneva convention
Will we ever learn?
How do you expect our army
To behave in occupation
When the powers that be
Who train them
Have these barbaric initiations?
Every incident you see
On tv and in the press
Is guaranteed to cause offence
And maximum distress
I find it really hard to believe
Some of the things I've seen
How our troops humilate and ridicule other human beings
Who is going to answer for these abominations?
Blame it on the ones who promote these
Barbaric initiations!!!
The army and its officers should all be held to blame
This has nothing to do with them
Because war to them's a game!
Every game has rules to which you must adhere
But rules are made to be broken
And that is clearly happening here!!!

What A Feckin Year !!!

by

Kevin Raymond

What a feckin year its been
I'm sure you feel the same
War, famine, disaster
Will nothing ever change?
I can't recall a year like this
In all my fifty years
Every time you turn
On the box
Sadness, death and tears
I'm trying to be optimistic
But melancholy just prevails
I try to change my outlook
With all that, that entails
I look around me
All I see
Is emptiness and gloom
I try to start new writing
I abandon it in doom
If by Christ
There is a God
What's his feckin plan?
To wipe out all the universe
Destroy his fellow man?
I'm sure its never been like this
As I said before
Man is by nature greedy
We all know that
He justs wants more and more
I just can't get it in my head
It just will not sink in
The rich are getting richer
Whilst the poor are perishing
I hate to start the New Year
With these words
But it really
Should be said
If the world
Is such a wonderfull place
Why are so many dead???

The Summer Of '63'

by

Kevin Raymond

As I walked and took the air one day
In the summer of '63'
Spangle Hill in Cork for me
Was the only place to be
The city of my daddy
Of places that he spoke
The lovely friendly people
Who loved and took a joke
Roller skating in the church hall
Was just fantastic fun
I could'nt skate for toffee
And landed on me bum
As I tried to pick myself up
And not to look an eejit
This big fella skated over my hand
And shouted 'fuck off home you Brit'
My uncle Joe said 'leave him be,
He is one of us'
A crowd had gathered
Around to see what was all the fuss
We left that church hall pretty scared
And made our way back home
I hate to think what would have happened
If I'd been on my own!!!
My daddy is an Irishman
So what does that make me?
I was ten years old and terrified
That summer in '63'

This poem is inspired by the excellent short story 'The English Boy' by M.Keane. It just reminded me of my introduction to Ireland and some of its people. I'm very glad to say that after this little incident things got a whole lot better for me and I got the drift of: The Hucklebuck. Dickie Rock and the Miami Showband, Charlie Hurley, Brendan Behan, Christy Ring, Frank O'Connor and the River Lee. Oh and I nearly forgot Ollie Welch who I think played in goal for Tipperary! I don't know why I remember that name?

Where Are Those Streets Of Gold?

by

Kevin Raymond

As I sit inside Camden Town station
To stay out of the cold
I never thought it would be like this
Where are those streets of gold?

I pull my blanket round me
And scratch my bearded chin
I really should try to eat something
Iím getting awful thin

A young mammy does her Christmas shopping
Her kids are being bold
I could have been their father
But I searched for streets of gold

The Christmas lights are shimmering
Thereís silver and thereís gold
Iíd love a family Christmas
Before I get too old

Iíve a brother whoís in Canada
And a sister in New York
I wonder do they think of me
When the turkeys on the fork?

Because I was the oldest
I left Ireland first
I was made to stand on my own two feet
Nothing was rehearsed

Iíve been digging down the tunnels
Iíve worked on building sites
Iíve drunk so much on credit
Iíve been broke on Friday night

I lived in places so remote
In caravans and in huts
Did we complain about conditions?
Only Behanís brother had the guts

Its funny how itís turned out
Me just sitting here
Reflecting on what might have been
And itís not all down to beer

I watch the young fella's come and go
They all have busy lives
Are they rushing home to a wife and kids?
Iíd like that kind of life

Iím a country boy by nature
Though Iím really awful shy
No one told me about love and life
Its just all passed me by

Iíve never had a girlfriend
I wish now that I had
This courting and the holding hands
It canít be all that bad?

I often went to dances
But I didnít know the talk
By the time I had the courage to speak
I could hardly walk

The Irish girls were gorgeous
And I was a young chap
I caught the eye of one or two
But shyness ended that

I worked with lots of Irish boys
We were all the same
Once the work was over
They never knew your name

The city boys caught on very quick
They stayed amongst their own
But country boys are lacking
In social skills that others know

I never see the family
Though at this time of year
I think of them all fondly
So much so its brings a tear

Iíll be off home soon to Arlington House
Iíve a warm room there of my own
Thanks to Alex and the boys
I never feel alone

Well I do suppose it could be worse
Like freezing to death with cold
But tell me this before I go
Where are those streets of gold?

Please Take Me Away!

by

Kevin Raymond

Please take me away
From this life
That I lead
Its boring tiresome and dull
I need a break of some kind
Anything for a lull
I'm looking for peace
And tranquility
To kick start my life anew
So fly me off to a faraway place
Somewhere quite will do
I've had enough of traffic jams
Of people who rant and rave
The pressure of living life
At 100 miles an hour
Will see me to an early grave
Nobody has any manners
We're all so bloody rude
Whatever happened to being polite?
Everyone seems so crude
The last few weeks
Have been for me
Something of an eye opener
This life
That I crave
Does it really exist?
Or am I
Looking for utopia?

Woman!

by

Kevin Raymond

There is nothing like a woman
Of that I'm pretty sure
Men will die and men will lie
For a woman they adore

If we had a magic formula
We could create them at our will
But one for every man's enough
To have the love for them we feel

A man must love a woman
Or else he has'nt lived
This love for one so wondrous
It really is a gift

A woman becomes everything
They are so warm and kind
But be careful of the one you choose
Cos love can be so blind

I've known a lot of woman
But only loved a few
You should never ever be surprised
What a womans love will do to you

Some of it is torture
Most of it is bliss
The two previous descriptions
Can be wiped out with just a kiss

In praise of lovely woman
Who grace this place called earth
We should have a day to worship them
We could do a whole lot worse!

January's Cold So Watch Out For The Old!!!

by

Kevin Raymond

January's here now
With it
Comes the cold
What a terrible time
For those
Sick infirm and old
Have you
An elderly neighbour
Whom you have'nt seen?
Knock on their door
Phone them up
Check on their wellbeing
It'll only
Take a minute
Of your precious time
You'd like someone
To watch out
For you
As you
Get on in time?

To Mary A Son, Born In SW1!!!

by

Kevin Raymond

Victoria Street is so crowded
You can't get a place on the bus
I decide to walk to Vauxhall Bridge Road
All of a sudden there's hoo hah and fuss

This geezer is leading a donkey
A bird is sat up on its back
This ankle biter's making so much noise
A head ache I had has come back

Three wide boys follow on camels
Myrrh gold and frankincense
Thats not their names you eejit
Its presents for the child, that make sense?

I digress, they need a lie down
Somewhere to sleep for the night
I tell them about the nuns at St Vincent's
Who I'm sure could help ease their plight

They knock on the door of the convent
The nuns almost die of fright
Jesus, Mary and Joseph
They've never seen such a sight!

The three of them are ushered in
And offered hot sweet tea
'Any chance of a drop of whisky in that?' says Mary
'Just for Joseph and me'

One of the sisters nips round to the Seafresh
After all it is Friday night
Two cod and chips for the grown ups
Six pennyworth of chips for the mite

A benediction is hastily arranged
After supper is ate
The nuns are in awe of the virgin
Who's looks are just gorgoeus of late

The nuns pull out all the stops
To make all three of them snug
Mary and Joseph get lilo's
Jesus is wrapped in a rug

The donkey is tied up in King Scholars Passage
Where it can look in to Il Posto
When the patrons set eyes on the donkey
They decide to cut back on the rosso

The three wise men stay outside
Well they would do would'nt they?
Three wise men amongst all them nuns
What would the monsignour say???

The next morning brings a blanket of snow
Everything's dusted in white
A crowd gathers outside of the convent
They've heard who dossed down there last night

The Pimlico News is present
'Mary any chance of a quote?'
'I want my son reared here in SW1
Amongst fine dacent folk!'

The choir sang in Westminster Cathedral
The virgin snow turned in to sleet
The infant king was tucked up in a rug
In a convent off Victoria Street!

What is this talk of Bethlehem?
Where a mother bore her son
Anyone can see
That he turned out to be
A credit to us all in SW1!!!

I'm not great on the old religion. But I believe that JC was born near me! This may just be a bit of fun, but I'm a proud son of SW1!

For F..k Sake Make Sure That I'm Dead!!!

by

Kevin Raymond

When I die, do me a favour
For f..k sake make sure that I'm dead
I don't want to go in an oven alive
And be toasted like a slice of bread
I'm leaving a healthy lump of wedge
So you'll all have a helluva wake
But just make sure that rigors set in
This promise to me you must make
What ever you do, open my casket
To check and make sure there's no breath
I just want you to be sure I'm dead
I'm really not frightened by death
I want this carved on my tombstone
Its imprinted here in my head
The man is this urn had one last request
For f..k sake make sure that he's dead!!!

Travelling Fright !!!

by

Kevin Raymond

Father! Father
Please come outside quick
The travellers are coming in their droves
Theyíre arriving fast and thick

Your man below is terrified
His wife feels just the same
Our house prices will plummet
Just because they came!

Shall we board up the off-license?
Put a sign up in the pub
ĎNo travelling people welcome here
Nor in our youth clubí

What shall we do Monday?
Theyíll want access to the school
Make them sit at the back
Of the class on the floor
Donít let them use the pool

Father if they come to you
Please donít wish them well
Everybody in our parish here
Has a traveller tale to tell

Some have had things broken
Others lost livestock
The guards have found no evidence
But them travellers did the lot

Thereís no smoke without fire
Iím sure that theyíre to blame
Whole families living in caravans
Really theyíve no shame

Canít you bar them from the church?
This idea is all mine
Do they have to have communion
And share our water and our wine

Make them sit in a side chapel
Where they canít be seen
Iím told that when the plate comes round
Travellers steal the green

Weíre taught by God
To love thy neighbor
So Father lets be clear
I do not love anyone?
Who has no property round here

If you have to do a christening
Make sure you wash your hands
Iím told they carry lice and things
Inside them caravans!

The children are so filthy
We just donít want them here
If I say the rosary everyday
Do you think theyíll disappear?

Father light a candle
To keep them from our weans
Theyíve no right to descend down on us here
Weíre decent caring human beings!!!

This is about the sheer hypocrisy of people who are supposed to be caring and sharing human beings and church- goers to boot. Its based on a true story about the travelling people in the West of Ireland and the awful way that the middle and upper classes treat them, when they are passing through a village or intending to stay nearby for a week or two! The people saying their rosaries is the bit that really gets my goat, cos that was actually in the story as well, praying to God above so that people will just pass through their lovely village and not impose on their idyllic little feckin lives!!!

You Should Only Ever Be Happy!!!

by

Kevin Raymond

'You should only ever be happy'
Someone once said to me
'But its not always possible to be happy'
Was my reply to he
Life just isn't like that
That your happy all the time
Some days are good
Others bad
The balance is so fine
So as each day approaches
What will be will be
Its not normal to be happy all the time
Thats not reality!!!
Reality is what life is
Some of it very tough
Human beings can be hurtfull
Spitefull, mean and rough
Boy meets girl
They fall in love
He smiles at her
She swoons
That is not reality
Thats just Mills and Boon!!!

Life Is A Jungle.

by

Kevin Raymond

As I stumble
In this jungle
That is known as life
I'm so aware
That anyone
Could have a gun or knive
Why do people
Arm themselves
To walk along the street?
Its not as if they're starving
And have to kill to eat
Call me naive if you like
But something here is wrong
People who go about armed up
Should be locked up where they belong!!!

The Day I Thought I Died !!!

by

Kevin Raymond

Did I ever tell you about the day
I thought that I had died?
I came to in an operating room
Really bleary eyed!

An Enya cd was playing
Bono led the prayers
Val Doonican wore an Arran sweater
As he sat in his rocking chair!

Tommy Makem was training the choir
Brendan Behan was reciting verse
Paddy Kavanagh told stories of Monaghan
The Bachelors started to curse

Man I was so out of it
Everything was white
I started swearing at a priest
I didnít give a ####e

The drugs had worn off to quickly
And as I came around
Shiny white tiles and sparkling lights
Reflected off the ground

I thought I was in heaven
And that I had died
I was sure the angels had taken me
For that final ride

I rolled on to my side
To watch the t.v
That was there up on the wall
Ireland were playing football
Shane McGowan was on the ball!

Jack Charlton shouted instructions
Damien Duff ran down the wing
He crossed it for Cascarino
Who dived and headed it in!

The crowd, erupted in to a frenzy
With massive roars of delight
The cameraís switched to the dugout
Where Roy Keane was having a fight!

McGrath tried hard to calm him down
He couldnít work it out
Why your man has to have a punch up
Every time he has a stout!

They reached halftime at one nil
And trooped off for a cup of tea
Keane had calmed down, so had McGrath
It was beautiful to see!

Sinead lead the half time singing
In a duet with Bertie Ahern
The voice of your man as a tenor
Gave cause for public concern!

Westlife came on as support act
Along with Ronan Keating
The opposition fans were so distraught
Their eardrums had taken a beating

Packie Bonner had suffered an injury
His back was ever so sore
Who would take his place in goal?
ĎI willí says Christy Moore!

Christy played a blinder
The score stayed at one nil
A well manicured Andy Townsend
Spoke with a voice so shrill!

Gay Byrne asked a happy Jack Charlton
For his comments on the game
Jack was so emotional
He forgot Cascarinoís name!

I turned off the t.v in the adverts
And rolled over back on to my back
Christy Moore was a faboulous player
Damien Duff was the same in attack!

The priest had come back in to the room,
Too see if I was ok
I said 'you never cared about me down on earth
So #### off on your way'!

I wouldnít normally speak like this
To a lovely man of the cloth
But I was off my nut and tripping
And the drugs were wearing off!

Anyway I came to later
It had all been a wonderful dream
I was dozy and my stomach hurt
But I'd never felt so serene!

I awoke again next morning
To the aroma of fresh tea and toast
ĎChristy Moore plays a blinder between the sticksí
On the front page of the Irish Post!!!

The Concert In The Park.

by

Kevin Raymond

The concert in the park was sad
Butterflies filled the air
Brian Jones has just departed this life
Mick Jagger said a prayer
Thousands came from everywhere
Stood and paid respect
Jones was held in high esteem
So what would you expect?
Jagger grabbed the mourning mass
And rocked them off their feet
The words he said and sang that day
Were touching, sad and sweet
He missed the man just like we did
You heard it in his voice
Could he walk away from all those fans?
He never had a choice
Sympathy For The Devil moved the rocking crowd
Hells Angels, hippies and teddy boys
All sang the words out loud
The park was basking in the sun
Later on came rain
People who were at the gig
Would never be the same
Jagger just kept going
He rocked till nearly dark
The memories are all so poignant
Of that sad concert in the park

The Thrall Of Youghal !!!

by

Kevin Raymond

Nanny, grab yer shawl
Will I take yer down to Youghal?
We'll glide along the strand
Gaily hand in hand

On wet sand we'll stroll
And watch the waves
As they rock and roll
Is there anything
As moving
As the ocean
When she rolls?

We'll come up from the beach
A hot sweet tea for each
We'll listen to the crashing noises
That the waves
Beneath us screech

I'll be eager as you talk
To carry on our walk
Then as evening time approaches
We'll catch the bus back in to Cork

Bestow An Honour On Frank O'Connor !

by

Kevin Raymond

As I sat down by the River Lee
Deep in passing thought
A gentleman went passing by
Towards Tivoli on his walk

He looked so old and elegant
In a pale suit of almost white
With a stout leather pair of walking boots
He sucked on an old clay pipe

I knew this man from pictures Iíd seen
This was indeed an honour
Your man was Michael OíDonovan
More famous as Frank OíConnor

This was a man of great writing
Whoíd only had four years in school?
He was self taught in Irish, French and German
He was clearly nobodyís fool

Iím told he came from the north side
But that is pure speculation
In fact he hails from the south side of Cork
In Douglas Street just near the station

Some tourists came up to say hello
He doffed his hat to reply
This dignified man with his grey moustache
Looked them straight in the eye

He told them of his stories
Of people who came from the lanes
Of his alter ego Larry Delaney
And his love of childrenís games

The tourists thanked him graciously
Then went off on their walk
Frank tapped his pipe on the railings nearby
He lived for the ould small talk

I looked out over St Patrickís Bridge
Iím sure I heard a song
I looked back to where I was looking before
Frank OíConnor was gone

I must have imagined this vision
I had of Frank the man
In truth he died in '66'
In Shandon the bells rang

Will we ever hear such short stories again?
Written in nostalgic detail
Larry Delaney where are you now
To America did you sail?

We hear these stories of great Irish writers
On whom the Dublin literati heap honour
But what about that great writer from Cork
That working class hero Frank OíConnor!!!

His stories are all about normal folk
With whom you can identify
Thatís the attraction as I see it
People like you or I

As books become more popular
And writers get great fame
Frank wonderful stories are right up there
In the short story hall of fame

As the year 2005 is nearly here
The European city of culture is Cork
Frank OíConnor would be thrilled to bits
As he went on his Lee side walk

Make sure you don't forget him this year
He deserves a standing ovation
To that famous Cork man Frank O'Connor
From Douglas Street there by the station

I'm Not A Human Being!!!

by

Kevin Raymond

First they came for the gypsies
Then they came for the Jews
I stood and watched in ignorance
Cos I was free to choose
They rounded up the handicapped
And then turned on the gays
The smell of rotting corpses
Was in the air for days
I looked along our village street
Not a soul was out
We all ignored the carnage
We knew of it no doubt
I am not a Nazi
But I may as well have been
As human beings we have failed
And that is just obscene
These things will never leave us
We all turned a blind eye
We never lifted a finger to help
We all knew they would die
I'm ashamed to be a German
That's easy now to say
But I can say with all honesty
I think of them every day
Why did we do nothing?
I don't know what we feared
Some of us objected
They just disappeared
I wish I'd died along with them
I then would have some peace
To have stood there and done nothing
It beggars all belief
I have to live in sorrow
With what and could have been
But I never lifted a finger
So I'm not a human being!!!

The Gates Of Heaven

by

Kevin Raymond

I stand at the gates of heaven
But I will not step in
I can't do any good up there
So I'll stay down here and sin
Let me explain by saying why
I'm better off down here
I'm able to raise my voice and shout
Without prejudice and fear
Its not about putting your hands up
To defend yourself and fight
In a democratic society
You can write about wrong and right
So leave me out of heaven
Perhaps its just as well
Nothing down here is perfect
But it sure as hell beats hell!!!

A Sweet Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

by

Kevin Raymond

A sweet nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
And you were on my arm
A girl so gorgeous and so fair
So radiant with charm

Your beauty was my only thought
As streetlights shimmered on your hair
Not the homeless in the gutter
For them we didn't care!

The jewels you wore oh my l'amour
Were bright and oh so chic
As our expensive shoes skipped merrily
Down on through Farm Street

We kissed and oh it felt like bliss
A feeling so unique
We stepped over cardboard eiderdowns
Of homeless folks asleep!

At the catholic church I felt you lurch
As people queued for food
Do these people know
Just where they are
And why are they so lewd?

That one's your dad
Are you completely mad?
He can't be on of those
Quick grab this silk hankie
Cover up your pretty nose

I know that you are beautiful
I thought that you were rich
What d'you mean he's had a breakdown?
And suffers from these fits?

I shouldn't scoff but I must be off
Can I drop you anywhere
You want to stay here with your father?
You can't do thats not fair

As I make my way to Green Park
Through the homeless people there
I was so aware and slightly scared
To leave my ex girl-friend fair

The singing Nightingale?
Was gone
He had moved on
From the snobs of Berkeley Square!

We Are Shamrock Rovers

by

Kevin Raymond

The daddy took me with him
To give me ma release
I was five or six years old
And troublin the peace
We board the bus
The players fuss
Over red haired little bhoy
Then its down to tactics
Which bhoys will so deploy
The bus is ripe with singing
From native Emerald Isle
I just sit there grinning
At emotion in fine style
We reach our destination
Where battle will commence
There's two big bhoys from Limerick
And a Corkman in defence
The oppositions Swedish
So blonde, big and so fair
But we are Shamrock Rovers
Easily, we don't scare
The match is grand and to a man
All is skill and flair
Till the one little incident
Shocked all the peope there
One well commited Irish bhoy
Who rucked like man possesed
Fell down on the grass holding his face
Looking quite distressed
Indeed the Swede who felled him
Took angelic stance
As a look of innocent 'who me'?
Filled his countenance
As claret covered bhoys face
Yon Swede did stand and grin
When all of a sudden this old one
Punched him on the chin
'That there's me son yer Swedish hun
Yer innocent me arse
I'll bash yer blimmin brains in
And plant them in the grass
We play sweet game for only fame
On hallowed fields of clover
To injure's not our business
Cos we are Shamrock Rovers'!
The manager and supporters
Did pull the mammy off
The Swedish boy was terrified
No longer did he scoff
We won the game
As fullbacks pain did at last cool down
The Swedish boy did exit quickly
That sacred hallowed ground!
We depart back to the changing rooms
To sing songs from Erins Isle
As the mammy nurtered her offspring
To raise himself a smile
Back on the bus to Pimlico
The singing and the craic
Were held as entertainment
For lightly bruised full back
We get back to the exiled home
And park outside the pub
We are Shamrock Rovers
Get out the beer and grub!

My uncle Paul O'Connell from Cork was captain of a crack amateur outfit called Shamrock Rovers in Pimlico, London, where we were based at the time who did, it would seem win all the leagues and cups they played in.

It was all Irish immigrants mainly from Cork and Limerick who loved the beautiful game, they ran out of opponents and had to become semi pro at an even higher level to get a game cos no-one would play them!

This would have been about 1959 or so and is based on a true story. I recall what great craic there was on the bus as all the bhoys sang songs from back home and geed themselves up for the match accompanied by an old fella with an accordion who travelled with them to all the games!

For an amateur side there was tremendous support for the team, but as was the case in those days all the families were very big and all to a man and woman supported the team, whenever they played. If a brother or a son was playing the whole family would turn up in their Sunday best after Mass, to cheer the team off on their journey, win lose or draw the craic was the same coming home as the singing carried on till we got back to the local pub, The Gun in Pimlico London SW1, for creamy pints of stout for the bhoys, lemonade and them crisps with the little dark blue packets of salt in for us little fella's!

Jaysus great halcyon days and a great team of bhoys to boot!

Big shout goes out to all the Raymond family in Spangle Hill on Corks famous Northside in Eire

Also to all the Hayes family in Pimlico London England
Great People!


Oh Anne. For Ann Bancroft

by

Kevin Raymond

Oh Ann I would have taken you
To worship and adore
All the things you'd need to know
I would explain, even off-side law!
Such beauty at a football match
With you there on my arm
The envy of all punters
Would cause mass hysteria and alarm
As the teams come out of tunnel
The crowd would start to roar
'Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs Robinson?
Then please do try some more'!

Goodnight Ms Bancroft and may your God go with you.

Just a little something to remind us all of the sad passing on of the lovely and gorgeous Ann Bancroft.

Star of The Graduate, always and forever a star to me and thousands of others like me!

Is there anything more wonderful on this lovely place called earth than beautiful women and the beautiful game?

As me da, who's a Corkman, would say 'Jaysus boy your after losing it, so you are, but fair play to ye'.

So What!!!


How Sloppy Can You Get?

by

Kevin Raymond

They say Xerox will save us
Nissan will as well
A diet coke will ease your throat
If you feel unwell
But take me up to heaven
On a concorde jet
You can't do that to order?
How sloppy can you get?

You rob the poor to feed the rich
As oil wells start to burn
When my hide is good and fried
Over I will turn
But take me up to heaven
On a concorde jet
You can't do that in decaf?
How sloppy can you get?

As big macs sell in Moscow
The Bay of Pigs forgot
Will your french fries anaesthetise
Or give me flashbacks like a vet?
But take me up to heaven
On a concorde jet
You can't do that with relish?
How sloppy can you get?

As people the world over
Die destitute each day
We say our prayers to those upstairs
To make all things okay
Starving kids in Africa are dropping dead like flies
Whilst dictators crooks and despots
Blind us with their lies
But take me up to heaven
On a concorde jet
You can't do that with mayo?
How sloppy can you get?

We see great famine on the t.v
The man from Fox don't lie
Tell us where to send the cheque
Then we all can go and cry
As we sit in pristine cars and fancy bars
To talk about me, me, me
We feel a sense of rightousness
Because its what we need
But take me up to heaven
On a concorde jet
You can't do that to go with fries?
How sloppy can you get?

Where Is All This Going?

by

Kevin Raymond

As the ego race continues
Who will get there first
Will it be St Bob,The Angel Gabriel
Or B.Liar and his mob?
Now Andy Kershaw's put his oar in
What's that all about?
I read these clips
Though ego trips
Are not what its about
So brother let's be clear on this
This point should now be made
As the game of fame and righteousness
Addle up your brain
We are lying here in squalor
Dropping deal like flies
We can't walk around the corner
For a mac to go with fries!
Dead is dead and blood is red
Be sure to make that clear
Whilst you use us for your own goals
We're f..king dieing here!

Rock stars in their mansions
Are rubbing hands with glee
As units sold will go up this year
When famine hits t.v
Get yerself a conscience
Order it by phone
American Express will sanction it
For one interest free loan
Wear a Live Aid tee-shirt
Make out your concerned
Don't worry why they live or die
Your fortune has been earned
But let me tell you brother
Oh ye of idle chat
We're f..king dropping dead like flies
Do a t.v ad for that?

Sing them all the old songs
The ones that they all know
Make them so emotional
As you part them from their dough
Your aim is gain to ease our pain
As we are dropping dead
We're burying our children
Clap yer hands above yer head!

So get yerself up on the stage
To say a holy prayer
Millions will be watching
As you're well aware
False tears will flood from the masses
Bought there for the day
As people who are the scum of the earth
Sell tickets on E.Bay
Eat yer hot dog, drink yer coke
Kneel down and say a prayer
As we die in our thousands
Do you really f..king care?

This concept of the whole thing
Is to be admired
But as this thing called ego starts
Its looking kinda tired
Why should there be an angle?
There should only be one goal
Hunger starvation and dieing
A hatrick for the souls
Who want to do the right thing
And help their fellow man
To eradicate the misery
As only money can
But all this other bollocks
Leave it all aside
Or else the truly caring folk out there
Will wish they had'nt tried!

This whole thing is getting more and more weird everyday! I'm really never too sure about anything that Peter The Angel Gabriel gets himself involved in, as Jim Kerr said in a magazine article after the Nelson Mandela concert at Wembley, 'as the show comes to an end there's us (Simple Minds) and Peter Gabriel very nearly coming to blows about who will go on last, he, Peter was my idol and it had come to this at a freedom concert on a great day in history, I was just amazed and blown away by his whole attitude'!!!

I have had a change of opinion, from my comments earlier on this month, as this poem suggests, after reading different stuff both here on this site and in the media but it all seems to be moving away from what its supposed to be about isn't it?


I Worry !

by

Kevin Raymond

As children grow and do not know
Whats in store for them
Who'll explain that after rain and floods?
You must sink or swim

This dog eat dog world we live in
Can be pretty tough
So hard and unforgiving
Where too much is not enough

I worry for the young ones
Who make out they're clued up
Teenage fathers and the young mums
Whose lives have got screwed up

These troubled times we live in
With anger all around
As souls who are forgiving
Are so thin on the ground

Why is it so?
I just don't know
Why things are as they are
It seemed when we had nothing
We were better off by far???

The Bloke I Never Liked !

by

Kevin Raymond

There was this bloke I never liked
When I was just a kid
We'd argue with each other most days
It was something you just did

His lovely tie and pristine shirt
With perfect school uniform
A new overcoat each winter
To make sure he'd stay warm

He'd an annoying habit
Of looking you up and down
He'd ask you where you got your clothes
As others stood around

We were pretty poor
Although I'm sure
I never let him know
My clothes came from a jumble sale
Or were hand me downs

Anyway as time went on
He just got up my nose
So one day we just lost it
The pair of us had blows

He gave me as good as he got
I stuck one on his nose
He never taunted me again
About my taste in clothes

A years went on
We sometimes met
We'd often say hello
I'd see him in all kinds of places
My mates and I would go

We never went out dancing
We never played the fool
I heard he'd done alright for himself
So that was pretty cool

One day whilst on holiday
About fourty years further on
My wife and I were on a stroll
When who'd we chance upon?

Him and his wife were walking
Through this Spanish port
When I spied him and he spied me
We stopped to have a talk

It turns out that he lives there
He'd not been all that well
A warmer climate's what he needs
To take care of his health

We go to lunch or maybe brunch
Call it what you will
He tells me what he's been up to
Why he's been so ill

All of a sudden there and then
As something of a shock
He told me that when we were kids
He'd envied me a lot

'You were poor and insecure
But never let it show
I knew that you had nothing
You dressed in tatty clothes'

'You worked all hours outside of school
To try and help your ma
We all knew that your daddy
Was quite fond of a jar'

'I insulted you
Because I knew
You were a better kid than me
I had all I wanted
Given me for free'

'I'm sorry now about that row
That you and I had back when
Here's my hand
Please try to understand
I was so jealous of you then'

'I've thought of you quite recently
Though never once in hate
A bloke who stood up for himself like you did
Would be cool to call a mate'

As the four of us sat eating
I was lost for words
My heart was quickly beating
I felt slightly perturbed

'I never knew at all
That you
Felt just like you did
How would I know
Cos long ago we were only kids'

'I can't say that I liked you
You were pretty smug
You had a habit of looking down on other kids
As if we were all mugs'

'But its funny now
To look back at how
Things turned out as they did
You and I sitting down to lunch here
But enemies as kids'

We all sat there with out a care
As afternoon came night
If you have a row with somebody
Don't wait ages to put it right

I never knew he envied me
Because he never said
He never knew I didn't like him
Because I kept it in my head

We all will be a long time dead
To have grudges that last long
Much better to work at friendship
To try and get along!!!

Have We No Shame?

by

Kevin Raymond


Bury the dead
Of the injured take care
Look to the sky
What goes on up there?
As bodies in sheets lie still in our streets
The t.v shows the Dow Jones
Is our shame now complete?

As smoke filled lungs
Breath the fresh air
As soot covered commuters
Are filled with despair
Horror and terror
Are spoke of all day
Just show us the markets
It'll all be okay !

A city in turmoil
Is bought to a stop
Thank God for fireman,
Medics and cops
Who can we turn to
What will they say?
Just show us The Footsie
Make it all go away?

Let Yer Sister Court A Barrer Boy !

by

Kevin Raymond

Let yer sister court a barrer boy an eighteen carat gent
They make such lovely suitors it will be time that's well spent
He'll know all about manners from all the toff's he's served
He'll be courteous and charming just like a gel deserves
He'll be hardworking and forthright as he grafts upon his barrer
He'll even show her fifteen ways in which to cook a marrer
He'll speak a bit of Yiddish a little bit of French
A smidgen of Italian a tri-lingual little mench
All the lovely places that's his fruit comes from
He'll tell her all about them, do so with aplomb
The seasons are his business to them he will be loyal
He'll speak of juicy Kenyan pineapples and gorgeous Jersey royals
He'll talk of Covent Garden and the Boro at London Bridge
Tell stories of the characters in this great life of his
He might not have gone to Eaton or indeed to Harrer
But if yer sister courts a barrer boy
She'll be all to him that matters!

We're Off To Galway Races !

by

Kevin Raymond

We're off to Galway races to wager on a mare
Bring yer ma and yer da, whatever I don't care
Make a rake of sandwiches, a couple of cold stouts
Spare no expense punts or pence we're off on a day out
Salthill will be throbbing with porter and fine wine
Jockey's will be bobbing toward the finish line
Micheal O'Hehir with commentate in lazy dulcet tones
Between each race we'll recuperate with oysters from below
As gambling takes yer fancy you must be aware
Set yerself a limit, to lose just be prepared
Not every ones a winner at Galway in the sun
Some will lay their dinner at twenty five to one
Have a yerself a hell of a day and take all of this in
To miss the craic and not think back would be a venial sin!

My Life Has Been A Tapestry!

by

Kevin Raymond

"My life has been a tapestry"
I heard Carole King once say
Well mine reads like a Greek tragedy
By, Raymond, Kevin.J

I saw men lose their jobs and their dignity
I saw wee ones get battered and beat
I saw fat cat priests who preyed on the deceased,
Drive big cars past, as we stood in the street

I saw nuns beat young girls with impunity
I saw money go in plates come what may
I saw mothers manage with ingenuity
To feed and clothe large families each day

I saw kids who'd never been to the seaside
I took trips to a clinic for lice
I kid you not though the summers were hot
Just what was a fridge, was it nice?

I heard immigrants speak in low whispers
I heard the bombs going off night and day
I heard mothers say to their nippers
" Child, will you whisper softly now,
Or they'll think were in the IRA"

I thought that the girls were just lovely
I knew they'd be pure as the snow
I heard that they'd only thoughts for the convent
So how would a young fella find out and know?

I've been beaten by cops
I've had my ear holes well boxed
I've stood before the judge with such dread
Its been said I had the devil in me,
Well he sure went and messed up me head!

I've known love lust and hate
I've known girls who were great
I'm a gentlemen who never names names
Suffice to say my mouth is firmly shut
To spread rumours not one of my games

I've said some things here
You maybe think strange
If t'was me I'd think the same
But I never blame anybody
But my sweet self for whats happened to mois
So what I've disclosed here, for me has no shame

I've a family now that I love to bits
I try me best to be one who gets on
I'm proud to say, that come what may
I've liked being me all alone

peace.

Ode To...Christmas

by

Kevin Raymond

Oh the loveliness of London in the cold
Oh the season of good cheer
Oh the destitute and lonely
Oh the sadness and the tears

Oh the swanky office parties
Oh the high faluting hoi polloi
Oh the selfishness of me, me, me
Oh the glad tidings of joy

Oh the poignant carols that we sing
Oh to be caring and so kind
Oh to talk about an infant king
Oh to be standing in soup lines

Oh to make out that we can't see
Oh to turn the other cheek
Oh to walk around with our eyes closed
Oh to be looked on as a freak

Oh to those around the Christmas tree
Oh the family that we love
Oh the battered seeking shelter
Oh the heads fucked up with drugs

Oh the promises we never kept
Oh the inner peace we seek
Oh the conscience cheques we never write
Oh the lies we don't believe

Oh the dazzling high street windows
Oh the singing in the rain
Oh the lack of care in the community
Oh the broken dreams, the pain

Oh the jingle bells, the packed hotels
Oh the crowded West End shows
Oh the kids alone in doorways
Oh the aged who no one knows

Oh the bed-sit hells, the cardboard dwells
Oh the smell of ancient clothes
Oh the souls outside the Sally Anne
Oh the mass goers in droves

Oh the less than fortunate victims
Oh the underdog and lost
Oh the unable to cope and with out hope
Oh and those we just forgot

Oh to turn up yer snooty nose
Oh to be a vamp
Oh to tut tut at a bag lady
Oh to be disgusted by a tramp

Oh to be a christian
Oh to live in fear
Oh to be forgotten and on yer own
Now that Christmas time is here.

peace.

Midnight Mass

by

Kevin Raymond

Outside the Cathedral pristine and regal
Young lovers queue up for a pew
Tis a time for thinking of others
As least that's what we're told to do

As the men sit drunk in the confessional box
Singing pub songs that hardly make sense
The women shush them and shush them again
Through the haze of the sweet frankincense

The men have been on the drink all day
The women alone, stuck indoors
Tis Christmas a time for forgiving
A time to be seen out with yours

As the crowd gather round the nativity scene
"All men are equal in Gods eyes" we're told
Try telling that to the tramps outside in the street
Homeless, lonely and old

The candles flicker to the sound of the hymns
As the tramps come inside from the cold
They sit in side alters away from the mass
They're not welcome in Gods house I'm told

As the smoke rises up up to the heavens
Those passed on, are missed at this time
As widows dry tears they think of the years
With sadness and joy both combined

The choristers sing like angels
With dulcet young voices so sweet
Outside the fine marble Cathedral,
The homeless still sleep in the street

As the rich families turn up for the once a year mass
To make Christmas Day so complete
Tis a shame in their finery they had to step over
The homeless asleep in the street

The singing and prayers from those gathered there
Are touching, inspiring and sad
"Its Christmas, lets think of those worse off than us"
Says the well spoken priest
The sheer hypocrisy just makes me mad

As the plates are passed round
As their conscience gives pounds
They are hopeful that dough will ease pain
If not how are they to feel good about themselves
With all those material aims

As the congregation shakes hands with total strangers
"Peace be with you" often is said
The tramps in the side alters forgotten
Bless themselves and shake wise aged heads

The priest stands at the doors to say "Merry Christmas"
To the once year a punters red faced
Who think that by turning up here on this night
Their souls are now flowing with grace

As the crowds gather outside on the pavement
To talk about goodwill and cheer
They turn up their noses and strike rigid poses
In case someone unkempt comes quite near

The tramps sit across the road with a smoke and a joke
To watch all this small talk take place
All of the punters feel they're conscientious clear
But they won't look the tramps in the face

As the now holy souls depart in their droves
To breakfast and Christmas tree lights
Will they think of those with out caring or love
Who walk London street's on this night

Good Will Amongst Men? Go on say it again
Though you know in your heart, Such talk is cheap
We care only for him with £ signs that ring
And are lead to the mass just like sheep

Merry Christmas to ye and yours indoors
The thoughts above are my thoughts alone
When in the bosom of yer family this Christmas
They'll be sadly always someone alone!

Oh To Be Well Red.

by

Kevin Raymond

To be born with red hair, not auburn or fair
A child would have to pretty thick skinned
It's not his or her fault that the genes didn't talk
When his parents were doing "their thing"

When a freckle faced fop with a red carrot top
Arrives as new born to this world
It's a hard thing to explain to his mother who's drained
As she says"And my child is he well"?

Ginger, Rusty or Freckles, names
That were once aimed at dogs
Now seem to be suited to he
Whose fontanel still hasn't locked

Children at school can be vicious and cruel
To one who is not from the mold
"How did yer get those things on yer face
What d'yer mean they ain't there when its cold"?

Your ma tried her best to console you
Freckles? "A sign of good looks"!
Sorry ma but that's not how it is
When they're painting red spots on your books

"Don't stay in the sun, turn over when done
You know you have sensitive skin"
Are they worried that I may go Rusty when burnt
Such thoughts make you bear it and grin

They even invented a game with our name
We played "Knock down Ginger" when we were kids
I'm that poor bloke who they kept knocking down
After bruising my face and some ribs

You meet a sweet girl your hearts in a twirl
Love comes to call and you fall
You're married the question of children comes up
Sure its just human nature that's all

Your wife is in bloom, she lights up the room
With a glow that expectancy brings
She frowns only ever so slightly
Have they told her she may be with twins?

You're worried that she may be poorly
Her exercise, diet is it right?
Her honesty though candid is surely
Putting a strain on two lives

"Kev you're my one love and passion
And will be through out all my days
But if our kids come in to this world
With red hair and freckles
Its au revior I'm departing, post haste"!

We stayed close together come hell or high weather
The kids? No red hair or freckles so there!
Below is an old wife's quote full of woe
Made up for us souls with red hair

"It's the Irish in him, the carrots, the gin
That gave him that great mop of red hair"
You can use all the excuses you want to
But me?........ I just want to be auburn or fair

In closing this poem I'm letting you know
In words from my wife to console
She's dyed her hair red and the freckles of dread?
They've tuned out to be catching, so now she's just like me after all!

I'm Vulnerable.

by

Kevin Raymond

I'm the bride who's been left at the altar
I'm the kid left alone after school
I'm the cart horse being taken to slaughter
I'm the girl doing tricks down the tube

I'm the young teenage mum
Who's missed out on the fun
I've three kids by three different men
Whose life so it seems is all debt and bad dreams
And no financial support from any of them

I'm the blind person waiting to cross the main road
I'm the strange fellow in town with a can
I'm the carrier bag lady who's not washed for ages
I'm the confused autistic young man

I'm the old person who's terrified of leaving the house
I'm in fear for me life of attack
The last time I was mugged I was in hospital for ages
And the nightmares? They keep coming back

I'm the battered mother looking for respite
I'm the abused young girl in need of a friend
I'm the rent boy who calls the Samaritans each night
I'm the jilted love whose heart just won't mend

I'm the beggar you see down the subway
Asking sadly"Any coins to spare"?
Most people pretend they don't hear me
To be truthful most people don't care

I'm the junkie o'd in a West End side street
I'm the racially murdered young man
I'm the innocent plaything in a pedophile ring
I'm the victim of pure circumstance

I'm the vilified wife who took a mans life
That man was my husband arranged
Tis a shame when my family chose him for me
They didn't mention that he was deranged

I'm the destitute suit in a doorway
I'm the bundle of rags in the street
I'm the unshaven crackhead in need of a hit
I'm the nightmare you don't want to meet

I'm the husband whose wife has just left him
With five kids and masses of debts
But I pray my situation won't get any worse
Cos this seems as bad as it gets?

I'm the innocent prisoner found guilty
I'm the hit and run victim who died
I'm the child of the war that most people abhor
I'm the sixteen year old passport bride

I'm the latchkey kid who's been to told to keep hid
So the next door neighbors won't know if we're in
But sad and lonely I cry myself to sleep every night
Whilst my ma earns the wages of sin

I'm the frenzied mad face in the high street
I'm the the hospital ward walkabout
I'm the care in the community caste off
I'm the poet who won't shut his mouth!

peace

kev