The Steeqhen Holiday Special!!

A little poem about our... 'Great' (?) City of Cork

It’s Christmas Eve today! I just finished a post that’s scheduled for Friday the 27th that I had started in November. The thing is though, I’ve been backed up with college work, whether that be the numerous essays, articles and magazines I’ve worked on, or just planning out my Dennis Cooper dissertation (including a trip to Paris in January where, besides visiting a city I intend on moving to in the not-so-distant future, will include a get-together with my creative idol, whereby I can grab his brain, fuck it around, and squelch its contents into some interview of sorts as a source for said dissertation… exciting stuff!).

Now that I’ve finished the last essay, bought all the Christmas presents needed, and have the next few weeks to focus on myself and my own hobbies, I’ve begun writing recreationally again. Last week was particularly inspirational: I have an idea for a short story that may possibly be controversial, as it’ll basically be an account of my friend and I’s experience with a boy, plus I’ve got a few other ideas that are currently existing between the spaces of ‘poem’ and ‘prose’ right now. I have an idea for what could be a novel too, so maybe I’ll share some of it over the next year (if I have time to write). The novel itself could also be a bit provocative, but for good reasons; I don’t think I’m the type to be shocking for shock-value sake, though I do love to be a bit disturbed and scandalized…

I’m in the process of making a 2024 in Review post, which will most likely be posted in January like I did with 2023 and will include a list of some of my favourite music of the last 12 months as well as an account of what this past year has done to me and what it has done for me. It’s been a strange year, overall. I think it’s the year I finally think of myself as an adult. I hope that I continue to feel this way in the upcoming year and that this astonishing run of competence and drive for productivity continues. I don’t know if I was ever outwardly pessimistic about my abilities and work ethic, but since the age of 14, I’ve considered myself a lost cause, someone unable to function properly. I’m still a bit of a mess when it comes to organization and keeping a healthy routine, but that is a concern for next year…

Anyway, this little poem was something I’ve been working on since Saturday. it’s inspired by the past few days of existing in Cork City during the holiday seasons, and how there’s a certain undercurrent of melancholy found in it. I’m sure I’ll rework this into something better, but for now, here is it in it’s semi-finished form.

I hope you enjoy it!

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Ruby cross and sandstone walls,
Xmas nights at XXX clubs,
Stringed lights dangle above
Candy canes crushed under heels.
The portico duvets are full
with holiday thanks & cheer.

Hop scented streets
And piss alley stench
overwhelm the little nostrils
That parents hurry along,
past the Nike and leggings
mauling faces.

Tense tender thighs
And rosy outside;
The huns are out tonight.
The lads stalk their steps,
With their eyes glued to waist,
Geared for a night of naughty surprise.

Handsome boys with
Tight Penneys jumpers,
Jeans too tight for
GAA physiques,
Drinks slur their words,
And blur their desire.

The lightest fumble around pubs fourth,
Their pretty minds melting,
Like little ice cubes in tampered drinks,
'Til bars serve no more,
And the lights awake their senses,
Left to wonder and wander Patrick Street.

There's a lonely pup named Ruby,
And she shivers and sits,
Hoping the 203 comes by.
She hops onboard, 
But swiftly removed ,
Christmas won't stroke her furry coat.