Bird's Song

There's a tear in the sky where the clouds huddle near,
There's a drop from a now broken atmosphere,
There's weeping from the choking poisoned birds,
Unable to utter a pleeful word,
And for the creatures who can't look up anymore,
For the ones who've shut themselves behind doors,
They've forgotten the bird's that flap on broken wings,
The bird's who've lost the voice that sings,
They've forgotten the world that still spins round and round,
They've forgotten the beauty that once could be found,
now the hills falter to the shovels of trucks,
and the ponds have sucked out from under the ducks,
The birds will wait till we see once again,
But can they survive till then?

Top Ten Things I Miss About America (Not including my awsome friends)

1. I miss the feilds and feilds of golden grain that haven't been rained on recently, that smell dried and crisp, ready to be harvested.



2. i miss basements. don't really know why, but i do miss them, that cool feeling of being under ground.



3. I miss Walmart. No, i never liked it, but it was always a land mark i could rely on. "Where do you live?" "Oh, you know where Walmart is..."



4. I miss yellow school busses. They were so obviously school busses, no need to put up strange numbers in windows or crazy symbols, they were all school busses, no weirdos, no public transport.



5. I miss the blue sky. I've said it many times before, but I'll say it again, blue sky is rare in Ireland, and it wouldn't hurt to get it once in a while.



6. I miss my keyboard telling me the right letters and symbols. since we started using irish websites, the @ and " signs switched places on our keyboard and now I've got to think before i writer any dialogue.



7. I miss the smell of hay. I ride horses, and never before i moved to Ireland had i heard of silage, and yet, since hay can no longer be kept dry, i stink of silage. My horse stinks of silage. Where's my lovely golden hay??????



8. I miss the ise skating rinks. i mean real ice skating rinks, not the tiny little kiddy ones they put up at christmas time, i'm talking real hokey rinks that you can skate around forever and ever.



9. I miss outdoor swimming pools. its kinda hard to swim in the rain, and the sea just keeps getting colder and colder. i miss being able to lie in the sun next to tons of screaming kids all splashing about.



10. I miss the american twang sometimes. not all the time, and in Italy on one train, i certianly did not enjoy listening to two american college boys waffling on about thier jewish girl friend. but sometimes i do miss it, i iss the sound of my american friend's voices.

Pickle Jar

To me, politics seems like a big long line of people all trying to open a pickle jar. The first guy tries opening it, but he can't do it. he hands it to the next guy in line, and the next guy's all like, "You're such a fool," until he realises he can't open it either. so the next guy tries, and he's sneaky about it. he tries using a knife, or hitting of a table edge. But that doesn't work either. The next guy in line seems like he's almost got it open, and just when your tummy's rumbling with the idea of a pickle, he takes his hand away and there's a giant blister on his palm. He's no good either. The next guy secretly manages to open the jar, and steals a pickle while no one's looking, then reseals the lid and it's all hush hush. Then all the guys in line start arguing about the best way to open the jar, shouting at one another, and basically forgetting about the jars actual presence all together. And all we can do is watch these men fighting over the pickle jar, hoping against hope that one of these ejiits in line can open the blessed thing cause by now we've finished our hamburger, chips and are moving on to the jello.
Its all just a bit useless, isn't it?

Irish or English

Ireland is the only place I've ever been that had so many accents in such a tiny amount of room. Even if you could understand Galway dialect, that's no garuntee you'll understand Cork. And to be honest, you probably won't understand either anyway. I've got grandparents in Cork and i still don't understand them, even after so many years. It's like you have to learn a whole other language to live in Ireland between the "Gowanyabuya!" at the GAA matches, to learning the volcbulary "savage," and "legend". I could not believe my ears.
Not saying that i haven't adjusted, I think I've done quite well, picked up a few phrases or two of my own, but I can't imagine the transfer students coming to learn english here. They've learned every correct use of the grammer, every proper punctuation, every adjective in its own context, and they're suddenly thrown into a shower of, "That's so legd," and "Feckin Hell,". I can't even start to imagine how complicated it must seem to them. It's like Ireland has taken english and made it have a whole new meaning, and it's not even like it's the language Irish (cause no one seems to speak it as far as i can see accpeting when my friends are forced to learn verbs and the appliances in the kitchen).
"What are ya on about?" that's another one that I've taken to. "What's the Craiq?" often used as well. Someone should write a guide to the Irish English language.

Where are all the Italians?

So i went to Italy about a week ago for vacation. It was so gorgous there. we stayed in a smaller town called Lucca, one of the old forts with huge red brick walls surrounding it and the only way in or out is through the large arch gates. The buildings rose so high above us down every little pedestrianised street that sometimes you couldn't even see the sun over the rooves of the houses. I, being also an artist, got some amazing pictures done of the yellow washed buildings and that rusty orange coloured churches. It was so beauiful. The only problem was the open sewage line that ran around the outside of the walls. Really quite a revolting smell.
And as i was soaking in all this beauty, i suddenly realised, wait a second, I'm walking around looking at all the acient italian buildings that have stood hundreds of years, I'm being wowed by St. Mark's Square of Seina, The Baptistery, the Leaning Tower of Pesia, and i haven't seen a single italian resident. i mean, I've seen tourists from Germany, Spanish teens gawking at old statues, but I don't have a clue what Italy today is even really like. I sure as hell know what was going on like a hundred years ago, but who knows what a really italian looks like anymore? i know what german tourists look like, but where are the hot italian men? sometimes i wondered what Italy looks like from someone who actually lives here, cause obviously they're not trapsing across Venice, so where exactly have they gone?
Then i realised, hang on, if i'm over here looking at thier cathedrals, then they're over in Ireland watching us too. And its true. when i came back the population of Galway had changed from pale white, socks and sandals irishmen, to tan skinned, forgien teenagers, jabbering away in languages we can't quite understand. Every summer, both countries empty of thier own citizens and fill with those of others.