The Idea of You

I love you
But only in my mind
That image is perfect
Every edge is smooth
Every corner rounded
Sculpted from marble
White and pure

I love you
Without truly knowing you
Your ideal is sublime
Your ideal is eternal
The reality ephemeral

I love you
But never could I touch you
The image of you
Framed in gold moulding
Would surely shatter
Were I to reach out
And feel your rough edges

I love you
With a cowardly heart
Fearing disillusion
I forsake the ephemeral
To hold the eternal

My First Post – Why I Write

Check out my cousin’s new blog about gaming! He’s studying game design, and wants to share his experiences with you, enjoy!


Hi there.

I am an inconsequential aspiring game designer from Dublin, currently figuring out exactly what game design is. I make some stuff in my college course, but more recently I’ve begun to learn that game design is best learned by seeing, doing and sharing with people in the community. Especially the ones making something new, different, or just downright brave.

Long story short, I haven’t really done very much yet, but I do love games. Or really I love good games. But also, I love not loving bad games (make sense of that what you will). And I want to share the thoughts I have with my community.

I named it Name Your Rival, because I thought about my first meaningful choice in the first game I ever played; and like for so many of us, it came from Pokémon (Red Version, ’cause that’s important). I’m not talking about choosing Bulbasaur, though I’m…

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A day in the life

Simplicity is bliss, fellow poets!


Early morning, mist arising
Over the fields to the bluebell wood
Birds singing sweet dawn chorus
Life has never felt so good

I only see two other souls
A gentle man with his gentler dog
Leisurely walking through the grass
Disappearing in the fog

Beyond the stile, a carpet of blue
Tiny soldiers on parade
Upright, swaying in the breeze
To the unheard song that nature’s made

Turn the corner, business park
Sigh, unhurried through the gates
HGVs and fork lift trucks
Drivers unload with their mates

Down the road, metal mountains
Housing clones in starched grey suits
Private roads and cars are speeding
Faster, past me in my boots

Press the numbers, heavy hearted
Through the door and swipe the card
Into my box on the upper floor
Life has never felt so hard

Lunchtime showers, sun is shining
Rainbows arcing in the skies
Escape the box for sixty…

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“Dark Dances”

Cosmic Heroism

The dark depresses me,
soul hibernating in this
season of cold things
and distant love.

My self unfurls in curls
of smoke and wispy breath
to form the phrase I
have been looking for:

The milk-near word,
so close to the breast,
so far from the lips;
frozen by arctic winds.

Tomorrow comes slowly,
ends quickly,
and life goes rushing on
in underground tunnels,

subterraneous creatures
chasing wealth, warmth
and a hundred other
tired illusions.

Yet the darkness has
its own kind of clarity,
its own blind revelations
lurking in murky corners

of my manipulative mind,
where magic men
and myth meet,
where the dancing never ends.

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A Shooting Star

I saw a shooting star last night
The moment was enough
To view the world from that great height
A speck of spacial fluff

A bright white rocket ‘cross the sky,
A tail of stardust in its wake,
Blew my mind with questions why
Philosophical thoughts awake

Is my life a shooting star
Burning in a blink through space?
I’m so unsure of who we are
The ponderous human race

Are we more or less than a blink in time?
Will we even leave a mark?
Or shall our efforts shrink in time
Like shadows in the dark?

Will we go out in a Supernova,
Lighting the darkest places,
Or fizzle out when all is over
Without the faintest traces?

If a million years is a blink in time
What meaning has my life?
Are these thoughts a humanistic crime?
Reasons to live are rife

I turn my eyes from the shooting star
To focus on this earth
In my heart I know just who we are
Imbued in me since birth