Political

U n s a i d W o r d s - - - - -

"Run away unmanly men."

Her reddened words inflamed us.

"Feel your thunder in my womb."

The words that deafened Seamus.

"Hide your faces stricken children."

Her verbal noose to hang us.

"Feel your lightening in my womb."

These words which struck down Angus.

"Their father's fathers killed our fathers."

I'd bring them back, but, none can.

"Feel your heart beat in my womb."

Her wreath of words on Duncan.

Liam, you alone can tell

The truth these silent stones compel

That when descending hordes drew near

We saw our brothers, once held dear.

Whose womb is this, so amply growing?

Whose seed has spent in all the sewing?

Where are our dwindling children going

On knees, to words of knaves,

And early to their graves?

"From the depths their souls will rise,"

Spoke her voice again disguised.

"Only you can free them."

"It's his blood that warms my womb."

Taunting to the wife of Liam.

O p p r o b r i u m

Men of hunger
Children drawn lean
Women past sacrifice
Coffle of green

Tallies on mothers
To talents for queens
Hands from their clouds
To coffers of green

Harvest of sanctions
Famine of dream
Sacraments sacrificed
Coffins of green

Uisce Beatha
(Water of Life )

My whiskey smells of sherry.

Yours wafts the burning peat.

But either slugged in unwise measure

Does wonders to the feet.

Brother of the highland

We bear the self same yoke

Give a pull for this old man

Don't grudge his grumbling choke.

My whiskey licks in sweetened sips.

Yours bites with bitter smoke.

But, either way the glass is raised.

It's time we both awoke.

While we toss, the sucking gnats

Get dizzy at our throats.

The more I down, the less I feel.

Who gives a damn which way you kneel?

I think there's spirit in this truth

It slides so smoothly on the tooth.

For, if we flag of our despair,

Whose flag

Will we endear?

Let your Scotty chase his rag.

Don't let your brawny soul dishearten.

Repair your dagger to the sock,

For I will kirk your tartan.

Brother of the highland

Father of the soil

Take my hand

I'll help you stand

And stagger through this toil.

The Drum

Bah bum

The drum.

Bah bum

They come.

Bah bum

The drum.

Bah bum

They come.

The bastards beat their drums.

Bum Bum

The bastards beat their drums.

Bum Bum

The bastards stomping

On through Derry

Burning the land

They're in no hurry.

Killing and raping

And stealing unworried.

Children who stand

And cry are buried.

Bah bum

Bum bum

Bah bum

Bum bum

The drum.

Scholars
-amicus humani generis

Scholars?
Set in tendered seats
Chafing naked bones for meat

Heinous chaos
Alphabetized,
Pogrom footnotes, dated, sized.

Do they merely yawn in bed
As if Catullus blind of jade,
Hemoptysizing ledger's red
Faculties in shade?

Who will right the truth?
Arid didacts churning pages,
Suffered sufferers of the ages,
Sages, amantes, amentes?

Shells

Shards of color in the sand

Scattered

Broken

Here and there

Slippers, drills, western wings

Entwine in mermaid's hair.

Could each alone hold back the tide?

Fragments, these, of some who tried?

Toward single efforts - disbelief -

Glory rises with the reef.

Old scars fade duller on these hands

Battered

Broken

Here and there

Of whipper's skill, no longer stinging

As fresh as when put there.

Could speech alone hold back the cries?

Fragmented, this one, who tried.

Solitary tear drops, failing,

Leagues of salt for smoother sailing.

Memory's wounds of brackish pain,

The brine which brings on rain.

Busts

Statues

Cold, uncaring,

Frozen,

Poised of frigid bent,

Statutes of Kilkenny,

As lost in dust as any sent.


	Snow covered, Blood run cold, Lilies can grow here. Buried dreams, Untended, Hold. Lilies can grow here.

		In muddied stains of tear soaked ground, Lilies grow. Lilies grow. As clamor trims to distant sounds, I know, I know that lilies grow. Issue bred of callow violence, Trampling on the lily beds, Yields to ever seasoned silence. Lilies could thrive there, instead. Brooding toiled in sanguine clay, In abject chill, untended, Roots will root And take away That void of reach upended. Lilies. Lilies... Lilies... As a lily claimed my field Struck of roots which could not yield, Roots of truth as true as any I hold dear, In this fist I give you lilies. Lilies can grow here.