Póg Mo Thóin: Kiss my Ass

In the wicked wolf pub
down in Blackrock, Ireland
there was an old Irish man
only on his tenth beer.
Lonely as he seemed
I felt.

I sat next to him
as he offered me a beer.
“Aye mate!
Let me tell you what!”
His eyes were see-through blue,
his pupils were dilated.
“People be cheeky bloody blokes
your whole life.
They’ll put you down mate,
tell you that you will never
get the chance to do what you love–”

he took a big gulp of beer,
“never give up what you love mate.
Not even if there is a geis* on ya,
look at Cu Chullen*,
who came back from the
flames of hell and regained his
glory, he never let one his geasa*
stop him. If some bloody bloke
puts you down there are three
words you should live by–”

the now drunken Irishman’s head
flopped down on the bar,
as I sat there thinking about
how much sense he had made
until the end. My thoughts were
interrupted as his head lifted up.
He raised his glass in the air and
yelled out,

“Póg Mo Thóin!”*

Lucia Modestino

*Geis: (Ge-sh) Curse- only gods/goddess, druids, father to a son and all women could place a geis
*Ch Cullen: Irish god; like the Greek Achilles
*Geasa: plural for Geis
*Póg Mo Thóin: (pog-mo-ho)


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