Tag Archives: . poem

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Pauline Power writes:

…my poem for the water charges protest to add to the others which I have found very inspiring. I marched against PAYE in the 1970s and Ronald Reagan in the 1980s and today I am back on the streets. I would be grateful if you would share this around. I do not have a Facebook or twitter. I am 71 in January!

For The Day That’s In It
Now is the time to be counted
Our most precious resources change hands
Everyone watches the money go round
X marks the spot where it lands

Contract or not, they will crush you
Unless we all make the same stand
Sing out, all you brothers and sisters!
Everyone’s part of the band

Farmers and welders and till-girls
Old folks and bold folks and shams
Right left and centre, we all stand together
Sing out and we’ll take back our land!

Hear the authorities tremble
In cop-shops where force was once planned
This time we’re there in our thousands
Politicians, your time is at hand!

Out on the streets if you’re Irish!
Each boy girl and woman and man!
This is the day we seize freedom
Rise up and be part of the band!
You’re Irish and this is YOUR land!

(Pic: Sam Boal, Photocall Ireland)

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Anon (because he/she is skipping work today) writes:

I know I’m no John Moynes but would you care to share my scribblings in advance of [today’s] march.

Remember remember the 10th of December
the day that the government fell
Remember the reason the people cried treason
and cursed this corruption to hell

Remember the cops, when they handed out knocks
and threw women across public streets
Then they stood at your gate representing the state
and a tax exile’s firm GMC

Remember the day when the riot squad came
to respond to a water balloon
Then they pepper sprayed kids while the government hid
in their luxury black saloons

Remember the press who tried to repress
the voices outside the élite
See the journos have views but they call it the news
And they rarely are seen on the streets

I know of no reason why state television
would vilify people like me
Unless of course you’ve read the reports
that they’re after a broadcasting fee

See it’s not just the water, my blood’s boiling over
Because of this cozy cartel
But in spite of their threats, they never will get
a cent for a litre from me

So we’ll march on the Dáil, ’till the government fall
and the Shannon and Liffey flow free
Just give us fair taxation, including corporations,
And we’ll all just go home for our tea.

Nice meter.

Meter.

Oh, never mind.

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‘Ecce Animal’ – a human skull made from street cocaine by Dutch artist Diddo.

As part of the project, the artist sent his materials off to a lab for analysis, where they were confirmed as cocaine but that ‘further constituent components identified included phenacetin, caffeine, paracetamol and a relative large percentage of sugars’.

Intended as a thought provoking piece on the nature of man in society, an accompanying poem by the artist suggests possible interpretations and conclusions that might be inferred. To wit:

once we were animals.
like any other, we lived in an environment of fear and want.
then, we became ‘human’ and aspired to be better.
we learned to control our environment but the fear stayed,
because we never learned to control ourselves.
it is frightening to look at the face of our animal side laid bare
by comfortable excess; the spoils of its aggression.
but what exactly is it about this image that is so confronting?
is it this division in our idea of self?
or is it a realization that though we have mastered the outside world,
we will always remain subservient to our inner selves.

Now for ye.

designboom

90254886 (From top: Dermot Desmond at the Change Nation event in Dublin Castle last year)

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Gulp.

Part of a poem ‘Still I Rise’ by Maya Angelou sent by Dermot Desmond to Fintan O’Toole after being questioned about the Telecom scandal of 1990.

25 years of Irish life through the columns of Fintan O’Toole (Irish Times)

Dermot Desmond to up stake in INM to 15 per cent (Irish Times)

(Sam Boal/Photocall Ireland)

I Love The Internet

By Kevin Barrington

Opium to DeQuincy
Sin to Milton
Congo to Conrad
Aran to Synge

I love the internet

Castles to Shakespeare
Deceit to LeCarre
Dublin to Joyce
Marketplace to Chaucer

Did we say
‘Daffodils to Wordsworth?’
We couldn’t forget that.
Or mounted jihad to Tennyson
Or the weird wild wonder
of the whole god damn show
to Dylan

I love the internet

Wild, lewd, bawdy, bullying, smelling of cats.
Cranks, crank, meth, conspiracy, snipers, knoll.
Fascists made cartoon on ripe digital soil.
Erudite waltzing with trite.
In eternal ballroom
Dedicated skiers on seas of trivial loon.
Self help soma screaming thinnin tv hair repair.
And always the smiles of the filippino brides
And promises of untold nigerian riches.
Flashing wheel spinning ace poker squared
You Have Been Chosen
But
Shhhhhhh
Somewhere down there in the fly fishing section
the first faint whispers
(If ears are right)
of hushed talk
of
bold revolution.

I love the internet
The sheer
dull
scintillating
infantile
anarchy
of
it
all.

Boisterous Brughel medieval market.
Futuristic Middle Ages
Directed
by
Friar Tuck.
And offset, whispers
of
Robin
lurking
in
wood.

I love the internet.
Cos it’s ours.

Kevin’s Blog

Online First As Blogger Apologises To Ganley Over Tweets (Gemma O’Doherty, irish Independent)