Sack 'em all
Sack 'em all, sack 'em all
The Tories with stories so tall
Sack all the liars and all truth deniers
Let's see the whole bloody lot trip and fall
Let's be saying goodbye to them all
The Tories with taxes so small
Sack the promoters, place trust in the voters
Cheer up and take down the red wall
Mike O'Leary - January 2023
A short burst of optimism prevailed
Bless 'em all is the tune in your head as you read it.
Peruvian Hat
I'll pack a few things for the beach
Shall I wear my alpaca hat?
I do feel the cold in my head these days
It'll be warm enough in that
Not the weather we'd hoped for
When we planned our trip abroad
No South American sunshine
In the package we could afford
We walked the sands without afternoon sun
Wrapped up, well enough to cry
Looking for fossils and shells I saw one
That immediately caught my eye
Look at this George
Well fancy that
If I'm not much mistaken
It looks just like my hat
Well the treasure you hold in your hand
Resplendent in all it's glory
Is called a Peruvian hat
And that's not just my theory
You can see how it got it's name
It looks like it's made to be worn
On the head of a native of Cuzco
Dark silken locks to adorn
It's just the right shape
With it's ear muffs as well
I know my sea shells
Though I say so my self
Put it somewhere safe
Let's see if we can see some more
It's a sea shell you don't see selling
On the sea shore that's for sure
Is it worth a lot of money then?
Is the dalai llama from Peru?
No he's from Tibet George
Mike O'Leary - 2015
One of the first poems I wrote in Steve O'Connor's group. I think we were given a topic and about 10 or 15 minutes to come up with a poem.
He couldn't disagree more
I used to drink with a guy
Who thought he was being clever
He was never prepared to admit
That anyone ever knew better
His attitude passive aggressive
His jokes had serious intent
He always said he was joking
We all knew what he meant
He had a serious addiction
Competitive to a sin
If there was a prize
For the unhealthiest mind
No doubt he would want to win
Mike O'Leary - April 2020
Pyramids
Pyramids pasted on board with
Pharaohs planning escape
Images of Ancient Egypt
Inspired by geometric shapes
Colours setting their space in a
Coagulation cascade
Triangles crossing tramlines in a
Theatrical backdrop parade
Undulating rhythms rocking in
Underground waves of
Rouge and denim washes
Rudiments of jazz and rave
Ecstatic with rhythm in time
Ekphrastic awash with colour and rhyme
Mike O'Leary - May 2020
An ekphrastic poem written for a collection published by Dionne Hood.
The Logic of Grandma
“I want never gets”
Oh how I longed for it
Surely I could want it a bit
Happiness so close
“Them that ask don’t get”
But I just wanted you to know
How much I wanted it
And how I couldn't let go
“Them that don’t ask don't want”
But I wanted it more than you know
And if I can’t tell you I want it
Can I ask how I’ll know that you know
I admit that your logic defeats me
Even though I’m only five
But if I can’t get the things that I want now
What’s the point of being alive?
Mike O’Leary - November 2015
Buns for breakfast
Buttery cream
Light and moist
Patisserie dream
Made in Bingley
By our chef petite
Buns for breakfast
What a treat
Mike O'Leary
Written for Claire Rookes, our lovely Art teacher, who provided the buns for our Art Class.
Poets gathered in communion
Forgetting to bring the bread
With no transubstantiation
We broke the wine instead
Mike O'Leary - October 2014
I attended a workshop with Chris Tutton at Bradford Central library. During the session my bag fell onto the floor and broke one of two bottles of wine. I wrote this little ditty as an apology.
I wandered freely as a cloud
Reading poetry out loud
Lost as I roamed twixt south and north
The poem distracting as I moved forth
Where will it take me
There’s rhyme but no reason
A map and a compass
More befitting this season
Head in the clouds
Sight clear as mud
Four lines of verse
And then I should
Take up the challenge
To find my way home
Leave Wordsworth behind
When you go out to roam
Mike O’Leary - April 2016
I'm leaving behind the Romantic sixties
I'm leaving behind the Kerouac fixes
I'm leaving behind the rarified air
The sweet smell of freedom it's chains laid bare
I'm in retreat from Romanticism
I'm in retreat from romance
I'm in retreat from the end of an era
And those who despise my class
Stepping back from the edge of the abyss
From the leap into infinity
Clearing my head, clearing my heart
Refusing to play my expected part
Returning to familiar faces
Returning to warm hearted places
Making the return journey home
Welcomed like the prodigal son
Seeing my origins anew
Seeing that sense of belonging too
Seeing the roots from which I'd grown
Seeing a place that is now my own
Saying goodbye to things that I'd loved
Saying goodbye to things from above
Saying hello is a wonderful sound
Hello to having my feet on the ground
Aware of the sacrifice made
By my parents and their generation
Just as 'Do your own thing' exclaimed
The extent of selfish penetration
Class defines me not Art
Classical and not Romantic
Making a brand new start
No tripping, but the light is fantastic
Mike O'Leary - September 2014
Disillusioned at the end of the Romantic Sixties and returning to my working class roots (soon to be disillusioned again)
