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Best Poems Written by David Kavanagh

Below are the all-time best David Kavanagh poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

Newspaper clippings

Too little 
too late
God said to me 
in this dream I had about fate

So I asked him 
what did he expect, 
A goody two shoes 
a prophet 
a saint 
to be something I ain’t 

Not at all he said 
I want to be entertained 
Eternity is boring 
mostly people snoring 
especially at night 
and during the day on occasion 

Look god! I walk around an
Amazon warehouse all day 
pigeon-holing tat
picking this and that
How am I supposed to amuse you 

Well I do enjoy you breaking stuff on purpose 
sabotaging the line 
Bunking off for a smoke 
going to the toilet doing coke 

Erm hands up!
I admit 
I’m a total chancer
and do things I shouldn’t 
But it’s ok isn’t it 
that Amazon place is full of s-hit

Yes it is a kip
but more fun when you entertain
Like in your last job 
listening to you lie
not taking the blame 
asking me to help out 
In your moment of doubt 
All that stuff you stole 
and got away with
on the whole 
That was quite funny!

Oh the (paper and plastic) I gathered, 
before selling it to the highest bidder 
Throwing expensive stuff out in the trash 
The owner was a bastard 
all things considered 
a miserly swine
But nevermind 
Thanks!
I did need a dig out that time 

Remember when I was aged about 7
and was told my pal went to heaven 
Why did it happen 
A year later walking to school with another pal
he was only 8
And that nut-job attacked us with a hammer 
Put a hole in my friends head 
The blood pumped in fountains of red
I thought he was dead 
All the gore I’ve seen 
witnessed a killing at 18
Trying to hold down an abattoir job in between 

Yes! Life ain’t pretty by design 
sometimes the stars just won’t align 
Others times they go nova 
and leave black holes behind 
still you’ll never really understand 
The powers in command 

So how about this poem
Will it see me home 
Does it amuse you
are we cool?

You’re still alive aren’t you!

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

A Mountain From a Pile

How far do the ripples spread, when eventually we die 
Probably stay in the locality, level off, no major outcry
But let’s say we’re famous, suffering unexplained death 
The ripples keep expanding, growing further in breadth 

See the grotesque nature of spin, is to overplay a scene 
Garnishing public outrage, lurid pictures fill our screens 
Playing to an audience, ratings become the holy grail 
Stories without embellishments, grow tiresomely stale 

These ripples are an illusion, imagination going berserk
Carried along by a corrupt deception, truth been shirked 
Evidence the one requirement, for establishing all facts
I extrapolate backwards, what the hell there’s no splash 

Lines converge into partial truths, confused to a degree 
Must be taken with a pinch of salt, querying what I see
Even this soup we enjoy, is manipulated and massaged
Most of the poems are quite good, others form a mirage 

Taken out of context a rectangle, can become a square 
Brought into focus, desolate pictures, not quite so bare
What’s basically a clean stab, or slash across the wrist 
When poets stick in the knife, some give it a good twist

Using poetry for a hidden agenda, political or otherwise 
Tantamount to mind-numbing crap, seen in the tabloids 
If your going to post propaganda, to further some game 
Write it on toilet paper, wipe off, that’s all you’ve gained 

 By
David Kavanagh

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

Porcelain Doll

Porcelain doll, with a face so pretty 
a country gal, ran away to the city 
Worked in a bar, dancing on tables 
beat shovelling sh-it, in Pa’s stables
Looks for love, but only finds bums
lowlife gamblers, in rundown slums

Go back home 
not a chance 
One day soon 
find romance

Porcelain doll, life’s becoming gritty
rent’s due, ain’t nothing in her kitty
All knocked up, mascara streaking 
bloodshot eyes, skin’s unappealing 
Sleeps in the pines, winter it snows 
crystallised tears, angel eyes froze

Barely alive 
baby’s dead 
No way back
no warm bed

Porcelain doll, face’s the committee
lunatic asylum, nobody shows pity
Shock treatment, four hourly dose’s 
prison guard lesbians, with halitosis
broken doll, made one bad decision 
they chipped her head, thin incision

Eyes don’t blink 
stare at space 
No expression 
just a doll’s face

By
David Kavanagh

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

Hereafter

Living on a planet, unsure if I belong 
Where only sand grains and fossils, seem to last long 
The instinct to breathe air, compelling me along 
And the miracle that’s water, strives to prolong 

Hear the wind blow 
bending the trees 
Feel the bones crack 
inside my knees 

High upon a mountain, an avalanche gives way
Yielding to gravity, and powerful sun rays 
Down below I ponder, will this be my last day 
Still all goes over my head, as life balks away

Holding my grip 
busting my balls 
gave a nice twist 
when in free fall 

And a juggernaut of lies, hurtled down that slope 
Widening debris fields, spreading rumours of hope
Is there any big truths, or just lies to help cope 
The past looks basic, viewed under a microscope 

Fossils don’t lie 
rocks are not bones 
Sand remodels 
back into stone 

I piece together the fossils, search out life’s source 
Scream out eureka, til my larynx implodes hoarse
Scan skies for graviton waves, stretching time with force 
Try stop that damn avalanche, least alter it’s course 

Raw energy 
blood upon dust 
Time’s eternal 
cascading rust

Evidence can be sketchy, when life forms a scree
In the end information, is all there can be 
Empirical pathways, are straightforward to see
If they postulate a god, good enough for me 

I’ve crawled before 
I’ll walk again 
Encased in skin
til god knows when 

As a kid in confession, I’d mostly tell lies 
I admitted made up sins, without compromise 
The priest liked forgiving, so telling lies was wise 
He went easy on penance, devil in disguise 

Shame on us both 
playing such games 
He wore a cloak
I’m still the same

By
David Kavanagh

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

Onslaught

#One should be cautious in starting a war, but 
once begun, it should be carried out thoroughly#

     #Quote by Hirohito circa Dec 1942#

                       Onslaught 

         As little boy fell over Hiroshima, 
        a demigod dismayed how it grew 
          Into a fat man above Nagasaki, 
        Hirohito said, so I’m the devil too

       Both are one, and the same person, 
        to say otherwise is splitting atoms
         When two suns appear overhead, 
       an emperors duality, cannot fathom 

        And necessary evil is a dubious sin,
       willpower making its choice that day
        Expedience worked saving millions 
        I’m firmly on the side of Enola Gay

     Reckoning came, not a flash in the pan
     for marching POWs to death, at Bataan
       Also, Pearl harbour, Iwo Jima, Guam
      Midway, Okinawa, Tarawa, and Saipan

       Job’s done, the mission accomplished
        a time to celebrate, peace be strong 
     our conscience does not need absolution 
       obliterated by belief, we did no wrong 


Little Boy/Fat man, US code names
for the atomic bombs in WW2

Pick-A-Title, Vol 32 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Prompt chosen Onslaught 
07/11/22

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

I shall find a way or make one

(Inveniam viam)

Far beyond these eerie things, where limits have no scales
Fish are replacing gills, with turbine aerated tails 
Sea level’s losing all meaning, for the humpback whales 
Ships piggyback them, harpoons syphon wind from their sails 

Today I woke up early, lately I’ve let dreams flow 
Into an abstract yonder, where visions often go
A wave came over me, up from my downy pillow 
When tidal forces passed away, many moons ago 

As the ocean waved goodbye, I called for an encore
Behaving like a poultice, the beach drew back old gore
You could’ve bowled me over, sent ripples to my core
Never again I’d sleep soundly, near this bloody shore 

After a fretful lie-on, facing truths with each turn 
My sundial running on empty, stars can’t always churn
Moribund in dimness, til an old spark can return 
Reigniting glory days, (let supernovae burn)

Overhead the vacuum grows, just to make more space 
Stretching my dysmorphia, to align with gods face
No one knows for certain, who enhanced his human race 
Gave an artful hand, outsmarting evolution’s pace 

As life spirals forward, in a world out of control 
Entropy dismantles, stripping back our maker’s role 
The poet in me keeps goofing, digging deeper holes
He’s a junkie rhymester, overdosing on this soul 

So hail all billionaires, who never walk down my street
Flying above fake cripples, with power in their feet
Prodigies of bad and worse, scheming to make ends meet 
Leaves an aftertaste of smugness, one that will repeat 

As for those big questions, some take a straightforward twist
Two things I thought might go away, stubbornly exist 
Not death or taxes, I’m already over that list 
Each day I arise, how come lies and bullsh!t persist?

First there was oblivion, til I woke up and saw 
Now fully awake, dead ahead looms a fatal flaw 
But so long as I can dream, and able to guffaw
It only hurts when I laugh, Don’t you think? vents my jaw 

By David Kavanagh 
Hms

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

The Reclusive Verses

Wanting to shrug off this shell, break loose from me
Silence that damn hermit, hiccuping under his tree
Trapped inside too long, dormancy dreams to wake 
Disgorging bubbly lava, fills in soporific landscapes 

Longing to escape soft tissue, cast off mortal bones 
Break shackles of mundanity, rid life’s infernal drone 
Out there lies all answers, beyond the hermits void
His space mostly perfect, til our Big Bang destroyed 

Go forth and multiply, primal stars hypernova like hell
Filling a cosmos with elements, configuring him as well 
Hold your tongue hermit, stop humming about in bliss
Stay quiet down that hole, cease fumbling at the abyss

Deeper and deeper, below where basements depress
Sits an altar of incremental tables, poets go to confess 
Forget truths algorithm, they’ll fool any polygraph test
And the hermit lies all day long, he meditates for a rest

Breathe in, breathe out, forget about terminal breaths
Don’t underestimate the ether, chants a monk in Tibet
Fill your mind with mindfulness, peace will set you free
Watch them hiccups abate now, our hermit’s all at sea



 February 6th 2023 / 2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' 
FINAL Placement Poetry Contest / Sponsor: Mark Toney

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

The Hypocritical Goat

Not to be taken lightly, I burnt all my clothes 
Cut the tattoos off my back, tore pins from my nose 
Foraged for food particles, where wild beasts reposed
Lapped water vapour off thorns, when the thirst arose 

My identity gone, I herded mountain goats 
Built a makeshift altar, one by one, slit their throats 
Looking to the heavens, chanting primeval quotes 
Tell me what to do, this sacrifice I devote 

But silence returned, I knew nothing else mattered 
The goats now all dead, my hands blooded and spattered 
A local tribe watched on, their souls not so shattered 
Idolised me, then to the four winds they scattered 

After two score and ten, they returned unforetold 
Carrying symbols, textbooks, diamonds, and gold 
Smiling in joy, I asked what stories they behold 
All wrote versions of my life in books, but mistold 

Some had butchered nations, said it was in my name 
Others brainwashed little children, feeling no shame 
The rest knocked on doors, telling lies they heal the lame
Scamming billions of sesterces, their one true aim

I condemned the lies, but was a very bad call
They burst into laughter, and pointed to their haul
Just then everything made sense, as I do recall 
Killing goats made me, the biggest scapegoat of all

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

My Animal Instincts

D-Don’t feed elephants, they’ll take over your room 
A-Avoid crocodile tears, they might also mushroom 
V-Visit your grand-mere she’s not a wolf in costume 
I-If you meet 3 pigs on the way, go home use zoom 
D-Don’t take me for a chicken, I came from a womb

By David Kavanagh

Details | David Kavanagh Poem

Another Measure of Man

What do you see in the picture below                                                
                                                
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Perhaps a seed, being planted in man’s mind?

Perhaps a Big Bang in the dot, you’ll try find?

Perhaps a fly in the soup, being one of a kind?

Perhaps a dark sonnet, written for the blind?

Perhaps a remnant from a blog, you left behind?

But enough about me 
I know what I am

Temet nosce
that is the question    

By
David Kavanagh