Mossy writes songs, poems and plays in Binmen band.
He is also a baker.
A COLLECTION OF POEMS
Mossy Ryans
I arrive at the old station
The dart is terminating
It’s half past six
The last of the rush hour
Dribbling out in droves
Double file Marching home I see a lady hurriedly mistake this train
For one that goes on
This train is out of service
Some of us watch
Others don’t even notice
No one tells her this is out of service “Gobshite”
GETTING A FILLING
I’m not afraid of the dentist
But I hate going to the dentist
It’s a waste of time on my day off
I’d even go so far to say
It’s a scam, a racket;
Create the problem and charge you to fix it
Another surgically blue and white arm of the rotten little baby that the intercourse of capitalism and medicine gave birth to
I mean
There’s tribes in Africa with perfect teeth
And all they do is chew on liquorice root!
However, I can’t explain this to my ma
As she rushes me out the door
“You are going to be late for your filling”
“My tooth’s not even sore”
“It’s proactive, protective, preemptive”
-it’s procedural bollix that’s a bit ____ing expensive
But I’m not afraid of the dentist
So I check in and get into the chair
I chat the chat with my dentist
A lovely English man by the name of Ted
With very little warning
He then proceeds to shove two fingers upside my head
“That’ll be the anisthehick, we’ll giv’at a minute to seh”
Lying down with the goggles on, waiting for my mouth to numb
He asks me about my work in the bakery;
If I do much sampling of the goods I do be making
I SEE YOUR FUCKING GAME TED
Trying to get a gauge on my sugar intake
IS IT TED ?
In that instant I am a fenian prisoner
Determined and resolute
Not to give one goddamned word to my English interrogator…
“Yeah no I have the odd croissant from time to time” - leaving out the salacious cinnamon roll, hot chocolate knot, a colourfully decorated cookie, and sweeter than springtime Bakewell tart with raspberry jam filling
all of which taste the better having on the sly
“Righ well thah seems like enuff time lesgehonwih’itso”
My legs stiffen up and I clench
Onto a piece of tissue in my hands
As my poor little Irish mouth
is invaded by An Englishman
I’m not afraid of the dentist
It’s just a bit invasive
I’m not afraid of the dentist
But getting a filling is probably the closest experience to being abducted by aliens;
Lying paralysed on the chair,
Conscious of the two masked figures
Coming at me with their power tools
I close my eyes and I hear the sounds
Ringing through the air
The whirrriiggggsss and brrrrrijngs
The shlouupping and bzzzzzzing
Now they’re inside my mouth
Theyre sanding and scraping
What the fuck is that sound?!
Like a fork pulled over a ceramic plate
Is that smoke?! Why do I smell smoke?
WHY DO I SMELL SMOKE?
The bastard has started a fire inside my mouth
The friction of the power tools against my tooth
Has started a fire inside my mouth
Oh my face, my face
It’s going to be irrevocably scarred,
Burned and ruined!
I’ll get you for this Ted I swear I’m going to -
“Righ, we’ll that should be everthingk”
Says Ted as he slowly moves the chair
Back upright
“Ah cheers Ted”, as I said;
I’m not afraid of the dentist