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What gives you that satisfied feeling?

Is it knowing you are there or knowing they are?

I know it’s not the superficial things in life such as the size of your downstairs loo,

My hope is that it will at least be the fact of feeling fresh and starting the day anew,

With hope and belief in the meaning of life,

Please Lord guide me through this mess and I will forever be by your side,

Gone with the wind as these thoughts often go,

Stay steadfast and be good to others, this will guide us all through.

Niall J Rice

Getting older is a funny pre-occupation, easily forgotten – but always there.

Like your shadow when the sun is hiding it’s loving glare, then poof it’s back and drawing a familiar stare.

Your hair is thinning and your frown lines showing, baldness blowing and maybe your labido is also going.

My advice is to worry your little mind to the hilt, you are the only one this is happening to and a solution needs to happen quick.

Let’s all get up and have a little dance – if only your limbs would let you, your mama should know, she was young once surely. Lets ask Shirley if she thinks I still look good, the blank stare says it all, ‘you’re as young as you feel’.

That’s what Sadie says, I say I’ve felt old my whole life so going forward can only be one direction.

Let’s go, let’s do it, stop crying you baby, get your head straight and relax, chat over, life begun, no stopping now.

One way ticket to the inevitable please, better start working for those old peoples home fees.

Niall J Rice

If I said to you I knew a secret would you believe me

The phone ringer, here I goer

Let me know the story to be told, the phone ringer, get that would’yer

Here I goer, can you tell a secret if I let you know

All I want to ask is if you’ve ever met me before

I love you, can yer keep a secret like I told yer before

The phone is ringing let me get that like I told yer before

I’m not the devil, neither are you. We just have our hands tied, that’s more unfortunate for both involved, multiplied together that equals 2.

2 times more grief and 2 times not what it used to be.

Fishing for a sunny afternoon, in the winter rain,

As the london drowns, so do the memories of that kind of afternoon,

Cold drinks are replaced by tea and coffee,

Short skirts are overlooked in favour of mocassin and thermal undies,

The houses are cold and the streets have lost their sparkle, everything seems to have been put beneath a giant puddle.

The inside is the way to go, walk quickly not slow, hurry now don’t dawdle, rain as thick and fast as I’ve ever seen, reminds me of a song by that guy Kelly. Gene.

You know my jokes already are lax, the weather needs to take the same advice and kick back.

We need a heatwave not frostbite, c’mon Jack let us go, before we drown under this bleedin’ weather

I want my t.shirt back and to throw this thick jacket away, get me a ticket on the next flight as long as it leaves today,

I want to be in a sunny place having a sing, lying back on a long lounger and nursing a sly grin.

Planning my next move to the bar and back sounds like to much to me,

Nothing but bliss, a book and a bottle of factor 20.

i wish i was a flower to bloom on a sunny afternoon,

the skies would be grey and the clouds on the verge of doom,

my ideas and thoughts are exactly that, do not challenge what you cannot comprehend, for the ferris wheel keeps turning on the cold february night,

happy valentines to all my young lovers and may god in you we trust,

we all have the same dreams as you, but in the almighty he does not impart on us.

i knew once what love meant, a long time ago, now i am just biligerent on pointing out what i should have shown,

anyway it doesn’t matter, what is a time if it is not to act, like a colon without a tumour to attack,

if this is my will and final testament, i leave it all to the canal cat – dead in the sack,

famous last words from the mouth of an infant, why should it be that i act so beligerent,

twice in one poem and i don’t know why, maybe i’m just at the end of my rope,

the rope is the master and the twine the subservient, how’d you find out by being the deserve-ed

xxxxxx

to you my maker

RIP Alexander McQueen

A young upstart from the city, trying to make a buck in this tough sweet world,

Where the trees are grey and the floor is gold.

If only that were true I’d have no problems bar pleasing my self,

It seems to have deserted me this past day or 12,

Papers and ink were never the fashion, nowadays it feels as though even the makers of that have lost their way,

Hanging from the bathroom frame to a world in the sky, to drink air and laugh at down below,

The fools they say, if only they had known, of what the answer was or how to find out,

They sit and they worry, fret and they fray, until the weekend comes and everyone is out to play,

The day they forget, is the day they will start to live, the day will not come until the day after next.

My heart is with everyone, but no-one will see mine, I keep it hidden away awaiting my sunshine.

Please tell me to stop, and your wish will come true, I am just doodling to which end if only I knew, kneweth of you and you will knoweth a lie.

Until that day we will have to wait and look to the sky.

Written by Niall J Rice

A new page a new day, why must we all wake from our dreams,

My dream is to one day become a page on which to write my new place,

Among the aristo’s and wino’s alike, sipping on amber couloured dew from an oversized bastoo,

A made up name for a made up place, ohh I like it here we say,

You must come again, why, that would be grand, how is next weekend,

Until that day I shall wait and contemplate my ever-increasing grey,

From here until then I wish you the best, and hope that like me you do not succumb to the increasingly hard to understand,

For I am the master of all and scholar of none, I live in this world as the Rodney of the plums,

Tip my hat and my glass shall follow, whimsy at the choice ahead I choose to pursue, I hope to have the gumption to recall what I once knew.

Until that day I will be forever in your gratitude, put 50 on the next favourite or be fecked, he’s bound to provide you with a solid 2nd.