Does the laughter make the truth you speak more palatable or more interesting. When I talk and their expressions fade to blank and you wonder is it because they know more than you , is there some secret fountain of knowledge from which they can easily scoop another dram of facts, a cup you are not privy to its location.

Or do they not get what you are saying or trying to say. Does it go over their heads or is it so boring as to float on by their consciousness

And you can make them laugh sometimes they probably giggle too much to the point of potentially embarrassing physical reactions.

But do they hear the thoughts behind the humour . Do the theories pass unnoticed . Does the inquisitions of my mind to touch those bits of humanity beyond my grasp register in their minds

Who realises the true vocation of the clown to reveal the audacity of the kings new clothes made of invisible thread

When they tell me their fibs do they ever realise I know. Do they fool themselves to believe their attempt at fooling me works. Does the ability to smile and ignore the lies make me more or less of a man. So easy to answer because of course it depends. Sometimes acceptance of others attempts at deception is a kindness to them. Other times a kindness to myself because I don’t care enough to point out the fallacy of their fiction.

Then there’s the beauty of the opening of the eyes when someone of the same realises you have recognised their own explorations of the world around us. The meeting of the eyes as minds embrace in a search for revelations beyond the common tongue

(C) frankie Mcgivney (falling asleep and wanting to keep writing but the eyes fail where the mind strives to explore)


It’s not that their sad

Or want to be

It’s just they’re not happy

They’re not unhappy either

Is it the worst state to be

Neither one or the other

Is there no feelings where they lay

Not smiling or crying

With no jokes to make her cringe

Or no sad tale to make them sorry

they were foolish enough to have

enquired of your state of pleasure

A monotonous line where memory

Is safe and you don’t howl at the moon

Where frustration screams to be heard

And orgasms come and go without

A growl or a a roar

In the morning the reflection reminds

Me to smile to take the crooked eye

As a reminder of who I am and smile

With gratitude for looking as different

As the words inside veer from the mean

To embrace the sing song of the dreams

I hear echoing from sky to river in my

Mind searching for a page to be born

I can’t remember some things but my

Soul remember a touch an embrace

A warmth a love a joy a body

Eyes and scars smooth skin soft hair

The sound of her breath

The smell of her soul

The scream of her pleasure

The ripple of her ecstasy

Her eyes on me from afar

And I look into my eyes and I say

Today frankie is a day when

You will sing a song

And tell a tale

When laughter will be shared

And you will feel alive

And I prefer to feel enough

To forget and to cry and to

Laugh and to roar and howl

And read and write and sing

To notice the orange of a sky

And the fresh breeze of a midnight sky

To hear the heart beat of being me

(C) frankie Mcgivney


It was 77 and the world was new

He owned a horse of clay

A crooked eye and a dream

To be a man who rules himself

It was 88 he had it all

The flower in the morning

The light of the night

The dream was born

The diesel spilled

On the carpet floor

They took her light

They killed his soul

It was 19

He remembered

It is 20

He remembers

The screams

Which made him forget

The echo of her agony

Which makes him forget

The bitter taste of the fear

Which made him forget

the calm envelopes

Stretching to embrace

Its touch a new discovery

Among the complexity inside

Revealing the sunrise

Waiting to warm when

Hatred succumbs to forgiveness

Of what he must never again


The silent spring of peace

Caressing gently

The anger the pain the fear

To reveal again the light

Through the crack

Which lies in everything

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Words are my strength they heal inside they bring laughter and smiles they are the ones to restore the soul they took away


Inside to drift far from

The torture within

I stray to where

The darkness wakes

The spirit in cold

Shivers of fear

I repose to hear

The peace my mind

Cries to embrace

Alone beneath the

Baltic blankets of

Repair to forgive

The boy inside

The man whose

Anger would destroy

The beauty he builds

To create the peace

He will only find alone

Before the hand

Outstretched can

Embrace the calm

Of a mind healing

From memories


To be overcome

(C) Francis joesph Mcgivney

Sometimes a man understands the desire of others to embrace to help the healing but knows the repairs need to be made alone to prevent them ripping apart over and over and over again. There is a strength in some which others will never know. a strength to be apart in order to rejoin the tribe


Meandering it loses its path

The wee trickle smiles

To the badgers gaze

Succumbing to the warmth

Of a different sky

Wondering why it can’t

Reach the distant echoes

Of forgotten familiar names

It’s contentment in solitary

Tributaries of a silence

Designed to repair the fresh

Slices in the minds scars

Reminding the smile inside

Somewhere a voice of love

Lurks beyond the touch

Lost awaiting to be found

(C) Frank Mcgivney

Remember those who sometimes forget are not lost just on a different stream where intelligence and wit flourish but a tear caresses the smile for the echoes of voices we struggle to recall

Your place

It’s taken

The place

Where you


To die


With stories

To hear


A tear fell

Then some




A breath


Hardly filled

The void

And you


The words

The right words

To the echo


Of a crow’s


The sound

Of the crack

Along your


Sealing the

Gap the light

Once creeped

The monstrous


Of the






(C) Francis joesph Thomas Mcgivney