Seven Words

It was quite an absurd occurrencedownload.jpg
which gave rise to reason for
seven words of swift deterrence
Which I’ll now relate through more

The first word can be used to shout
and identify who is who
The word we would be lost without
It allows me to talk to you

The second word was my weapon of choice
Inverse osmosis, so give a bored blink
But it’s meaning should be given voice
What worth is the the chance to think

The third word was the same as the first
And this time with less glee
The subject couldn’t be any worse
If I know you’re talking about me.

The fourth word was almost a pet hate
To me it’s all a show
So throw me maths and throw me fate
I’ll believe, but never know

The fifth word was a name actually
The glowing opposite of death
Someone who I love to see
She is addressed as Beth

The sixth word was the same as the third
But following the other five
Apprehension flies high with the birds
Pointing my heart toward knives

The seventh word was a final blow
Of what I want and won’t
See it only went to show
What you can do but don’t

Alex Herlihy – 2010

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

Random Poetry Fragment

Try all you want to provide consolation.
It won’t do any good, for the only comfort I need
Is that this is what it means to be human.
To experience the full emotional spectrum,
This is what it is to be alive

Try to provide consolation and kill me.
The words of wisdom I ignore; they specify suicide.
The only comfort I need, is that I am human.
This is what it means to be alive
Kill me?
Brush away the grief? Repress my creativity? Suppress my humanity?
Replace the power, strength, life of an emotion
With the weak, silent, death of acceptance?
Kill my emotions and kill me!
Kill me when I am most alive!
Embrace the anger! Give in to the grief!
And right as they smile to evil victory,
I turn around, and take control;
Anger embraces me, grief gives in to me,
and I make them work. Work words.

Alex Herlihy – 2010

An Insult

I use an external CPU for a paper weight.

I remember it quite clearly, it was in Year 8 or 9 (Well, maybe not so clearly) and we were all in the canteen at one of the tables, no one as far as I remember was sitting down. We all stood around, preparing to move at any moment, merely letting our bags rest on the table to relieve our backs.
Scott had obtained a copy of the latest Artemis Fowl book, it may have been his Birthday come to think of it. I did not know of the existence of a new Artemis Fowl book and expressed my interest.
In the same way that memories are made memorable by strong emotions, they can also become corrupt and vague.
At my expression of interest, or shortly after, Scott remarked “You don’t seem like the sort of person who reads a lot of books” or “You don’t come across as reading a lot of books” or something to that effect. I wish I could recall the exact wording.
I was so incredulously offended by this statement that I broke down into hysterical, disbelieving laughter. I kept repeating myself as I didn’t know how to respond or how to put into words that which I wanted to say. I said things like “What? You’ve hurt me Scott” and “That is the most offensive thing I’ve ever been told” all while wearing a mad grin, a crazy expression and losing my breath to laughter.
Scott wore that innocent, confused, amused, slightly slack-jawed look which came to him so naturally in those days. Probably because he didn’t know how to react to my ignorance of how to respond.
He may have asked “Have you taken your pills today Herlihy?” or maybe someone else did, I vaguely remember Ranga coming and watching another hilarious show of Herlihy Hysterics, Ba doing his eyebrow equivalent of a joking facepalm, the bell going, everyone moving off, and me just standing there feeling as if I had suffered an acid trip.
I was so offended, no-one had hurt me that much for a long time, if ever. At the time I was incredulous that such a thing could be said to me, as I look back I am incredulous that I responded to such an insult in the way that I did.
Perhaps it was because I was struck more by disbelief than rage. Even then I had a well developed sense of absurdity, and was quite immune to personal insults.
The world is a comedy for those who think, and a tragedy for those who feel. Mum always said I have no heart, and I always hated and ignored her words. But looking back, I can heartily accept that she was right the whole time.

Alex Herlihy – 2010

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

A Dance

rsz_a1-5-740x555[1].jpg

Walking, talking,
Rushing off in excitement and me not pursuing.
A cross between a train station, my year nine camp accommodation sleeping quarters, and the bubblers outside at my primary school.
I let you go,
Head inside to the hall, meet people,
Talk to a troll for some reason that escapes me.
The troll provides some bogan philosophy,
I head back out,
try to find you,
looking through walls windows and mirrors,
they’re all the same anyway,
find you,
your face is just as happy as before,
but it has a falseness about it which I don’t know if it was there the whole time and I just didn’t notice or it is a new development.
I ask what is wrong, you say “nothing” and are so sincere.
You aren’t even acting; you ARE sincere,
and yet I know you are false.
“Alright… but just in case, I want to hug you to make sure”.
She does and falls asleep;

You slept with your head on my shoulder and your arms and legs wrapped around me.
As tall as me, and only a little younger, yet you were lighter than a feather,
and I held you as I would hold my one year old sister.

I walked and the world moved around us in a way that didn’t match up with how my legs were telling it to move.
Down the middle of a busy street,
across crossings that were lacking lights and painted stripes,
one second, or five, or a minute no cars, the next one hundred.
I moved out of their way, understanding the danger, but not feeling it.
Too calm, and you slept as if nothing at all were happening.

The scene changed to become more grassy,
and you flickered in and out of existence on my shoulder.
I carried you across the suburban Noork’s elbow.
Street, turned to bridge,
bridge over train tracks,
and before I had even stepped onto the bend, you had disappeared,
I forgot all about you, and the dream flowed on into the morning.

Only when my eyes open did I remember that,
and realise what a strange,
amazing dance we had just performed.

But you’ll never remember it.

The last message I received from you was sent before our dance, but only received after;
Dream about cruise ships and ball pit rooms.
Usually you are there, always there in case I need you. But not today.
I don’t remember my dance involving any juggling.
It wasn’t a dance of love, sadness, joy, happiness. It wasn’t a dance of the night, it wasn’t a dance of the morning, it wasn’t a dance of light, or of the moon falling. No guns were firing no swords were drawn, it wasn’t a dance of bullets or skin torn.
No words were said, but it was no dance of silence.
In simplicity lies beauty and perfection.
It was a pure dance, no more.
I dreamt of the cruise ship, but not the ball pit.
I dreamt a dance, we danced a dance,
And you’ll never remember it.
In simplicity lies beauty and perfection.
To walk while the world runs?
It was a pure dance, no more.
And you’ll never remember it.

Alex Herlihy – 2010 (Mildly edited)

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

Maths

image-20160927-14593-1rf92dt[1]

/* Bad poetry alert */

I hate maths it turns mind into brain
Intelligent thought lost like tears in the rain
Equations functions, graphs I’ve had enough,
If this is all there is to life then I give up.
I was not born for a life that means
I need to crunch numbers like machines
I spy a paradox! How about you?
How can a machine be alive too?
And that is exactly how I feel
With every equation I become less real.

Every X, every Y, I feel my heart flutter,
Oh god, who would have guessed? Death by Algebra!
Every point plotted produces pain I must hide
Every new question kills me from inside
Every new topic I die a little more
The amount of horror makes up for the gore

Maths is stupid maths is lame
Maths is death by another name
In maths death is a game, Just a statistic to take the blame.

Alex Herlihy – 2009

Darkness

little-church-001[1].jpgThis is the shirt I wore that night.
It was exactly a year ago, in a park I had visited only once before, to which I pursued a redhead.
In my frenzy I lost myself in the darkness, and clung to the only island of light, trusting the Christians to lead me home safely.

(Ironic how by turning from the light and following another redhead, that Westleigh park was not so dark.)

This is the first time I’ve worn this shirt since that night.
Because once again, I’m running into the heart of darkness.
But this time I don’t aim to find a redhead.
This time I hope to lose a shadow… beneath pure black.

So into the heart of darkness again,
To search for a long lost friend.
Let light fall, on the shadows
of the shadow that should be mine.

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