Concrete Cage

*Note* It's been a long-ass muhfuggin' time since the last one. 8 months to be precise. Doubt any one is reading this, not even my sole follower Dan, since everyone is on tumblr ( I thought I be old-school and stick to this :L) but feck it. Aiight, intro. I worth this last month when feeling like shitone night. Head was all over the place. Meant to write something else and got this instead. It's about my bout with depression which is what started me writing poems. I didn't write any because well it ended and I was out all the time, but anyway here it is.


This place is dark but I can see everything clearly
As I lay trampled beneth thee.
I want someone to turn on the light
So I no longer have to fight to not take my life.

My life is full of rage
As I'm trapped in this cage.
Full of anger, full of hate
These steel walls I try to penetrate

Finally I've got the key to get away
No longer is my life in disarray.
Never again will I be hurt
Never again will I return to that curse

Technology Is Our Downfall

*Note* It's been a while since I last posted a poem so here's one for whoever reads these. It's about how I can only connect to a certain someone through instant messaging and how I feel like the friendship is growing apart. I wrote this poem last week so this friendship has already gone to the shits so here it is anyway.

Why is it so hard to talk to you in person?
I mean, come on, it can’t be that hard.
We only ever seem to talk over MSN, and I see you nearly every day.
In person, I never seem to have a thorough conversation with you
It’s almost like you’re a different person.
Does it feel like there is more pressure in person?
Is it because you don’t like to see me in person?
We shouldn’t have to rely on talking through the medium of social networks or instant messaging.
Cherish the friends while they are there for you, cos you never know how long they will be.

By Seán Kelly

Self Respect

*Note* This poem is about all different forms of self disrespect. It based on what I've seen around Dublin or what I've seen my frineds and people I know act like. Some of this might offend some people I know, if so sorry, but like I said in the introduction post, These poems ain't ment to.

Please, cover yourself up
You’re showing no respect for yourself
There is no need dress like that, you’re going to the doctor
It’s not like you’re even going to pull someone there

Please, stop being so promiscuous
You’re showing no respect for yourself
You are only 13 and already you have kissed more than ten people, most of them being girls.
But still you get offended whenever someone calls you a lesbian or bi-sexual.
You kiss all your friends but still you have a boyfriend.
If you want to kiss girls, do it when you are single or tell him straight up you’d rather be with girls

Please, cover yourself up
You’re showing no respect for yourself.
You are fourteen years old and you are dressing like a prostitute
You’re just an attention seeker who no one wants to see or hear about.


Please, don’t go back on your word
You’re showing no respect for yourself.
You’ve told me on two different topics you’d never do it but yet you have done one since and are planning on doing the other just because your boyfriend does it.
If anything happens I’m not gonna help you, you have to learn the hard way.
I just hope you don’t do the one thing that’s left just because he does it too.
You’re just giving into peer pressure.

Please, get changed out of your pyjamas before you go out somewhere
You’re showing no respect for yourself.
There’s not caring how you look and just looking like a knacker.

Please, stop making up lies to make yourself look better
You’re showing no respect for yourself.
If your friends really like you they’ll love you for who you are
They wouldn’t love you for who you appear to be

Please, just show respect for yourself.

By Seán Kelly

Stop The War Machine

*Note* I was watching this kinda spoken word song by Rou from Enter Shikari on YouTube and a video about the recent bombing of a building which alledgedly two members of the Taliban were in and the pain that was caused by the Americans bombing this buliding which killed innocents, including a young boy, was etched all over the people's faces. As soon as I started to write this poem I just got more and more into it so I hope you like it.

War, why do it?
It’s not like it’s needed.
The ruthless killing of adults, children and teens
It is just completely obscene.
Why the blood drenched soil
Just so you can have a couple of litres of oil?
You promised us the end
But all we got was lies and the deaths of innocents again.
Where are these “WMDs”?
Cos I haven’t seen them on my TV screen.
Why can’t we just have peace
Instead of killing innocents in their sleep?
Why aren’t you so keen
To stop the war machine?

By Seán Kelly

Why Do WE Even Care?

*Note* I wrote this last night as I was laying in bed thinking about Holly McNish's poem Heat Magazine and Bitch Fights" and all these lines and sentences just kept flying into my head. So I started writing this poem which took about 2 or 3 minutes apart from the last line which I got done today. It kinda went off topic but it's better than I was expecting it to turn out.

Why do you read these gossip magazines?
Do you like seeing famous rich bastards that didn’t do shit to get where they are?
All these magazines do is make us feel bad about how we look.
Who cares if we’re not perfect, no one is.
We all have flaws but that’s all we ever look for.
We never look for the good things, the beautiful things.
Instead we’d rather see the bad things in everything and make it seem a bigger problem than it is.
Why can’t we be happy for one another for once?
Why can’t we admire someone’s beauty without trying to find a flaw?
We can’t we all be happy with what we’ve got?
Why can’t we all just stop caring about other people's looks and flaws?
It has nothing to do with us.

By Seán Kelly

Why Do You Even Care?

*Note* This is the first poem I wrote so sorry if it's kinda shitty. It's about how people are always commenting to me about why don't I do this about how I look or why don't I drink and so on, and I always feel like saying "Why do you even care? You ain't me. It's my life so let me live it my way"

You ain’t me so why do you even care?
Does it even matter how I dress or if I even have facial hair?
You have your own life so don’t try and control mine.
I don’t agree with how you live but I don’t try and change your’s but when you tried to change mine is when you cross the line.
What makes this world so special is that we are all so different
So since when did having to be like everyone else become efficient?
I ain’t your dress-up doll
So why can’t you leave me to myself to evolve.

See, I don’t care on whether or not I’m considered cool
Because eventually these “friends” will in the end just treat you like a mule.

By Seán Kelly

What Did They Do To You?

*Note* This one is just about racism. Yesterday I was in Shankill for my Nanny's 80th birthday party, as we were walking back from the shops with my cousin and my brother & sister, there was a car with a family of middle Eastern origin. they were dressed just like you and me, just living in a foreign country, try to raise a family. And without even the family even looking towards her (they were busy looking for directions from a local) first thing she said was "Fucking foreigners". This annoyed me because we were like them during the Famine. We left a country that was poor and ravished in the disease to live a country that had jobs and a chance to make a living. That's why I wrote this poem.

What have they done to receive this abuse?
We oppress these “scum” as much as they have done nothing.
How are these people scum?
They left a life or poverty so that they could provide for their families and for themselves.
They are just doing what we did during the famine, emigrating for the chance of opportunity.
We’re the scum, we’re the hypocrites for degrading these people for doing exactly what our ancestors have done.
So next time you see a group of immigrants, don’t automatically say “Fucking foreigners”, think back to the famine and think exactly what us Irish did back then.
We “took” other people’s jobs, we worked more for less, we filled up neighbourhoods, we were the ones causing trouble.
So when you see an immigrant with a fancy Mercedes or wearing a fancy suit, just think to back to what we did back during the famine.
Maybe you’ll realise YOU’RE the scum, not them.
By Seán Kelly

Why Does It Bother You?

*Note* This my third poem which I only wrote yesterday and it's the first one I've finished. It took about 10- 15 minutes maybe. It's about people judging others when they haven't the right to and these people who judge are just the same as everybody else, basically like sheep.

Why does it bother you I’m different?
Why does it bother you I have a mind of my own and don’t follow the crowd?
Why does it bother you that I express myself openly with poems or with songs?
Why does it bother you my hair is different?
Why does it bother you I have a different opinion than you?
Why does it bother you I know about left-wing politics?
Why does it bother you I ain’t promiscuous?
Why does it bother you I listen to different music than you?
Why does it bother you I believe in God?
Why does it bother you if I’m gay or not?
Why does it bother you I don’t drink?
Why does it bother you I don’t do drugs?
Why does it bother you I don’t smoke?
Why does it bother you I don’t have a girlfriend?
Why does it bother you I ain’t racist?
Why does it bother you I don’t dress like you?
I know why it bothers you
It bothers you because I don’t fit into your bubble.
It bothers you because you want to seem cool and that you’re not out of place.
It bothers you because you wish you had a mind of your own but are too afraid of everybody slagging you.
It bothers you because you wish you could express yourself but you’re afraid of being uncool
This bothers me because I’m my own person and you’re just a shadow.

By Seán Kelly

An introduction...

I'll get straight to the point. I made the blog page thing because for the last 2 days or so I've had a lot of shit going around my head, just random topics, and decided on the other day, I'll write a poem since I can't write songs. I ended up doing 2 poems and the same the next, etc. so I made this blog page just to get them out there. These poems aren't meant to offend people, it ain't meant to make them change there life styles, just to give people a different look on life and whatnot. You don't have to read them if you don't want to (you must want to, why else would you be on this page?). The peoms I write are usually about friends, people I know or stuff I see about Dublin or when I'm up in Kildare seeing friends. So after introducing you to the outlook or what ever of my poems, I might aswell introduce myself. My name is Seán, some people call me Bodyguard. I'm 16 and have pretty much an opioin on everything. I live in Rialto in Dublin. A bit of a shit hole, ain't anything in it. The majority, if not all my friends live in Celbridge in Kildare which can be a real pain in the whole but it's all good. So that's my introduction. Don't expect any more post like this, all posts will be poems. Some rhyme, most don't. And like I said before, these aren't made to offend people, it ain't made try and change people, it's just the get out what's in my head. You don't have to read them, they're just up here for whoever wants to. That's basicall yit so I'll leave you with this quote by polarbear, "She said there's no money in spoken word, I said there's no money is breathing either but I guess she never heard"

Seán