November 7, 2015

A poem I wrote….2004 I think, I remember my son 3 going on 4 had gotten into his inquisitive stage, asking question after question about everything, and all things. It was that first night when this poem rushed through my mind, and reminded me of that one moment back in Ireland when I mused about relating my crazy stories to my future children, always believing I would never make it to the age of having a family… the ignorance of youth lol 😉


So many years ago

The voices would they whisper

“He seems nice”

“In an odd way”

Something about him that never sat quite right

Maybe it was due to his never being able

To sit quite right

A patchwork copy of the soul

Pasted into the fabric of life

Edges frayed slightly

Not exactly the right color to his surroundings

Still you seemed happy knowing he was going

Even though there was never anything there

How sad for your ignorance to want to throw a person out

Knowing they had no place to go

Just to have them away from your pride and joy

Like cutting cancer out with a butter knife

All the while thinking everything was going to be ok

It always was ok

You just never saw it for what it was

That man was not a drifter

Not a waste of space like he heard you refer to him as

Nor was he out to defile your not so virginal daughter

You lived in ignorance then

I wonder have you ever changed?

That patchwork drifter has

With every passing day

With a meeting of someone new

With every new country he visits

Each and every day does he log into his drifting mind

Those events that now unwind

Driven by emotions to drift, to search

Moved by emotions to carry on

Forever looking for that something

Not love, like you so feared

Not acceptance

The likes I never found

The questions to my answers

I thought Ireland might have held them

I was wrong

Rolling green hills still gave way to ignorant valleys

Cutting deep into the countryside

Like a clumsy man with a butter knife

Carving his way through his daughters soul

Saying his goodbyes the drifter moved on

To be forgotten quickly I’m sure

How strange he never has

His patchwork mind has logged it all down

To remember till the end

The good with the bad

Like black and white paint thrown against a wall

Sliding to the ground in a gray streak of hopelessness

A gray end mixed with bar fights


Train trips laden with ale

Horse races in Kildare

Drunks and empty country roads

Lovely people

Helpful people

People that would steal from you as quick as you could blink

Beautiful rolling hills

Fields filled with sheep

Young girls shouting at their children

Old train stations cold and dank

Dark hotel rooms

Fevers and drunken friends unable to help

Long nights cleaning the bar, counting stock

Long nights out in Dublin

Meeting others from distant countries

Drifting like me

Living for life and earning a keep

Wanting to be able to say one day when we are old

“I lived there once”

My experiences were not of your daughter

Your fears were shadows

Hideously beautiful attempts to keep your little girl from becoming a woman

Blocking the road for a man that claimed nothing but friendship

Your sons knew it

How sad that the teacher could not be taught

You were right about one thing, for a time

I was a homeless man

I wished to be just that but I never took what was not mine

You made me out to be a thief

A leech upon the blood of the innocent

I laughed when I left

A mixture of comedy and tragedy

I was sad to be going knowing I would never return

I was amused at how happy you were to hold the door open

A look of victory on your face

Do you still think with such shallow tones?

Maybe with time you will see the true meaning of life

Maybe not

My time has been well spent

So much more has been learned by the actions and thoughts of others

By the actions and thoughts of myself

Still you were not alone in your beliefs

Some like you that thought me a con artist

A drifter looking for someone to rob

Others knew better and helped a little, as that was all I would let them do

I the drifter

That lives in one place now

My search complete

I the drifter

That has a job and a home

A family now

That has memories of countries far away to remember

To tell my son one night before bed

Of places far away

To tell him

“I lived there once”

That shady man never to be trusted

I the drifter

That loves his son

That would give his life so he may live

I the drifter

That drifted into your home

The Devil in a suit

You would have all believe

Your voice so loud God himself could hear

It matters little really now

That was then

This is now

I am who I was to be

Still to become

You are?

The same yet a little bit older?

My words may seem bitter

Yet they are not

My words are nothing more than a telling of a tale

Of a man and that guy you hated once

For no real reason at all