Oh Dublin A Poem By Jack MaCormack.

Here at Prime Bling (PB) Your favorite online digital entertainment guide we are delighted to welcome back Dubliner Jack MaCormack. Jack has written a very good poem titled “Oh Dublin we hope you enjoy it as much as we did take it away Jack.

Oh, Dublin, by Jack McCormack.

It’s Friday night. Oh, Dublin.

One girl is vomiting, her boyfriend unknowingly clubbing.

Others watch while one of the lads gets the final punch in.

The rest are stealing the joy tomorrow will bring,

an ecstasy engendered by ecstasy,

that obfuscates the brevity

of their precarious existence,

those who are selling spectate from a distance.

Tomorrow’s happiness perpetuates, dominates

and mitigates the adversity faced by those who

endeavour to assemble together and contaminate themselves

as if it were leisure.

 

Sure it’s only a laugh, they proclaim, as if it is a game that they’re playing.

But this game is sinister, more like Russian roulette,

a deadly concoction of drink, drugs and one laced cigarette.

Sure it’s only a laugh, you don’t have to worry nor feel pressure,

it doesn’t make a difference to us whatsoever.

That’s what they’ve been saying but it’s not what they mean,

they never stop asking him,

sure we’ve been doing it since we were fifteen.

He can’t believe he’s conforming, he knows that this is obscene.

Irrespective, he nonchalantly sniffs a flat line reflective

of the one observed by his doctor on the life support machine.

 

It’s Saturday morning. Oh, Dublin.

People walk to work, not necessarily living but functioning.

Coffee cups are ubiquitous,

in the hands of those who are either moral and righteous or simply iniquitous.

A man and a woman seek shelter provided by the General Post Office,

expressing their love for both God and his prophet,

berating those within the proverbial closet,

preaching words that are derogatory and nonsensical,

a message that is simply antithetical.

 

The homeless who sleep rough and are subjected to criticism,

contrast with those engrossed by consumerism.

A dichotomy evolving,

a problem that those involved should be resolving.

But of course this isn’t the case.

For we are impeded by a prism,

a listless and subservient society plagued by

a widespread apathy that instils in us an extreme narcissism,

that makes altruism a chore,

that makes activism seem futile,

that makes me question my definition of a democracy.

 

You see, oh, Dublin, maybe we just don’t get it.

Maybe we’re better off following the rest of them to America.

You see Dublin, I’d rather be anywhere, I’d rather be abroad,

than in this city that beseeches me to report my neighbor for fraud.

It’s not your neighbor nor mine that have corrupted the true essence of this country,

it was those who left families homeless,

took their money and then left abruptly.

It’s not those who collect social welfare and benefit from medical cards that have caused the pain,

It’s those in suits that we can attribute the blame.

It’s those in suits that don’t want us to unite, to come together,

to eventually realise that they’re no better than their predecessors.

It’s those in suits that neglect mental welfare,

that given the chance, would privatize medical healthcare.

It’s those in suits whose impact has been fatal,

who sleep knowing that there are citizens who can’t afford to put food on their tables.

It’s those in suits who have one intention,

to hand out one hundred thousand euro pensions to those who should receive a prison sentence.

 

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