For Your Consideration: Saint

at | 17 Replies

Kevin Higgins

Saint is a new poem by Kevin Higgins dedicated to the “black babies wing of the Irish left, those who, to paraphrase GK Chesterton, are so busy loving humanity they can never find the time, or the inclination, to show solidarity with their next door neighbours.”

Saint

Because the progressive faction of the Magdalene Sisters
were no longer taking applications,
you instead tour the better fed Gender Studies Departments
of the Eastern Seaboard, preaching
your gospel of the little brown victim.

With the shrunken head of a Native American, ripped
from its original owner at the Battle of The Rickety
Left Elbow; the eyeballs of indigenous Bolivians
which have seen versions of Strictly
Come Dancing we can only imagine;

or, more prosaic days, with the rudely
annexed canine teeth of Palestinians,
which you carry about the place in a glass jar
you had specially made by a mate in Kinvara
who’s also a part time Shaman, you tickle
the consciences of those who think
life’s all olives and Pyrenees sheep brie,
and in return they titillate you
with all the fine cheeses.

For you are toast of the third world
liberation wing of Galway Lawn Tennis Club.

Kevin Higgins

Previously: Kevin Higgins on Broadsheet

17 thoughts on “For Your Consideration: Saint

  1. what is this lad on

    A diatribe more easily summed up as ‘wah wah champagne socialists!!!’

    Can safely say the ‘but what about our own?’ brigade don’t give a flying pooe about ‘our own’ until they can use them as a stick to attack (typically) foreigners with.

    Reply
  2. Nigel

    I practice my sneer
    In the mirror each morning
    I sharpen my teeth
    With resentment and jam
    My toast is: it’s a pity
    We’re not more parochial
    Getaway with you
    And your anti-solipsistic conviction
    That there’s a world beyond the pump
    ‘Tis far from Syria
    Ye were reared.
    Might as well be dropping bombs
    On my own pet cause,
    I inform them.
    Get your heads down and keep scrubbing
    Till I tell you you’re pure.
    Don’t you know
    You’re the real nuns?

    Reply
  3. brownbull

    what is he saying? that you’re not allowed care about other people unless you are rolling around in your own faeces?

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *