mat kearney

when we were young we had
Nothing Left to Lose
another year older
now and the stakes are
raised, so you choose
lower the bar
lose all pretense
[I can still hear the trains out my window
From Hobart street to here in Nashville
I can still smell the pomegranates grow]
it’s reminiscence that keeps us alive.


the night brings
life to the shadows —
sound to the spirits that
tiptoe through the halls
and there’s a ghost
here, I think with
unfinished business
to whisper about
on wind and creaking stair
echoing round the walls

fear bades
me flick the switch, light blinding but the
ghost remains for
it’s not the house that’s haunted.

an ode to Dustin O’Halloran

Breathe in.

You were once
the Jacob to my Anna
speaking not at all
while saying everything
until we were speechless
love became the highs and lows of Arrivals N2
we a mournful composition
of Dustin O’Halloran
like they,
standing in the shower
holding each other,
holding what once was
we too became tepid
Fragile N4,
until we broke, light and airy
to float away as dust in the sun

but Without You I Am A Lie.

youth wasted

youth is wasted on the young,
they say
but we only age as old as
we choose
running barefoot on the beaches
dandelions in our hair
lacing fingers under falling stars
making out in the backseat of a moving car
and while the lines of time may
make canyons in our skin,
smiles and laughs remain
forever young, so let’s raise a glass of
cheap vodka to
never wasted youth.


Quiet is a din when
memories call
max volume filling my head with strumming guitar and soulful croon as the only solace
‘cause I love that I can’t hear nostalgia whisper your name
over the yelling at the bar,
the booming beats of Bell House
with the whiskey drowning out
all the remnant noise to
hush the sound of my heart
beat beat beat
no longer ringing in my ear
bleating a constant drum beat
of my life going on and on
and on, and
until I had you,
I never knew silence could be this loud.