Tales of Sodom by Eoghan Lyng

Douching “I’ve douched” say I, clear in the head that douche is a french verb, or so I’ve heard, told to rinse you clean. So he enters, bending further with a warning; “size among size, I’m on the larger scale”. Fair warned, I take him, Thrusting up to the point where it should linger, but…

The Place I Waited Years To Leave by Eoghan Lyng

The Place I Waited Years To Leave Oh, how I waited years to leave the nest, And fly  with other birds to the East, To feed myself on luxuries only we could see, Sharing naught for anyone but our own needs, For who but fools and writers share their soul, Eating worm after worm in…

Metro Stop by Eoghan Lyng

  Metro Stop   Metro stop, metro stop, You buy your ticket, that´s your lot. On the platform, in the rain, Singing songs again and again, Until you reach the faithful station, With accordion players, the pride of the nation, Playing tunes of yesteryear, Asking for one euro for a beer, And a sandwich, wrapped…

Making Love In Bach by Eoghan Lyng

Making Love To Bach And you’re wearing his dress again, Ten times promised to restore And mirror your body In another man’s wardrobe. You’re sensing his face again, Ashened the cigarette butts, curled Unassumed ceremoniously dumped On a fairground’s chamber,where We made love to Bach. I’m sensing you’re not tired of him, You’re missing him,…

GOODBYE BABY BLUE by Eoghan Lyng

GOODBYE BABY BLUE By Eoghan Lyng   I laughed at your jokes in times of doubt, My wallet your friend when down and out. But yet you care not for my stances, Favouring idealistic, false romances. Can you not see behind your lies? The truth has made you paralysed. Speed jive and petrified, There is…

Achilles by Eoghan Lyng

Achilles   I: The Lovers A flower, She brought one, Specially picked for her love. Flowers, Many a time, Brought them together with love. They harvested a garden. Sheering carnations, conventionally Catering colours. A flower, Flourishing favourites, Airports feel infertile without   II: The Strike Political purveyors prolong paying, Parachutes passively picturesque playing, Painfuly punctually…

Thoughts From A Cracked Window by Eoghan Lyng

between the bickering and the tolling terrible tales of an old fabled magistrate masquerades as a person I ache to be picturing a pleasantry possibly perplexedinjecting a sidewalk talks of a cold caught flu that I hide from you and I hide from sickwhat with the falling pound parading on these cobbled pathways and I say,…

Two Poems from Eoghan Lyng

Home Thoughts From An Airport   Fingers twitched wayward queue. Will you, won’t you stand. A fair tree robin sits, Geared ennui sets in. Tolled bag carries counters, Complete suites arise, Hoteliers and auxiliaries Teary eyed say goodbye. And I walk onward, But back. Turn over the heaviest Of ruck-sacks complete with a Ulysses Fiction…

Wines and Walks by Eoghan Lyng

Wines and Walks   Wine lies on her fingertips The red silhouettes her breast Addressed, to her lover so much Younger than she. Needles wheeling the pillowtip And it slipped, the sharded glass Cutting the finger form, and of it Crashed the blood. Many a man has loved her, Many more tried, trying too Hard, too little, too…

Buggery by Eoghan Lyng

“My name is Roger. I’m a fan of The Beatles, the movies and being mercilessly sucked off from time to time”. Roger was a good looking chap. Brown haired, blue eyed, six foot two. He had a nice face, and a nicer arsehole. Stephen looked him up and down once or twice, downing his stout…