All is not yet Lost

The white man with the toothache complained

“The death of truth”
“The demise of fact”

as if One Truth ever lived.

He wore red hair,

“Subjective trumps objective”
“Trust lost in slipstreams”

as if post- modern chatter
arose blind from ignorance

and there was the matter of his nonpliant feet.

“Authorities pushed aside”
“Authors born at every corner”

and no more news swallowed kosher,
we’ve seen gods sit on cracked toilets.

The white man’s ears were bent

“Let us respect disrespectors,
honour the heralds of doubt.
smash panes of glass with Apps and axe,
shatter the gorgon’s mask,
inhale medicine of liberation,
assassinate a holy trinity,
mend faith in next generation
of wordsmiths, dentists, and fools.”

The red man cried.

 

 

 

After the concession

After the concession

A black bird sits on a telephone line,

suspended between wooden poles

aged by water.

This is no day for tears,

no moment for regrets,

no time for tearing-out hair.

There are other black birds

and a seagull catching light

over the Northside.

There is a hill to descend

a twisting road

past cars

and fading disintegrating leaves.

There’s even sun in my eyes.

It’s easier to say nothing,

to notice the knot,

to register the wish

to lock the toilet door

and simply sit.

Oh yes, there’s reason to be thoughtful,

there’s always reason to reflect,

looking at clouds heavy with mist.

There’s always a will to inaction,

a will to ossify.

Black bird statues

behind a crooked spire,

the one with the lightening rod on top.

The off-licence shut,

the graffiti craves attention,

I see Aer Lingus was looking for my vote

‘smart makes the right choice

for Stateside flights this winter’.

The wounded leopard must go back for more food,

the thirsting camel must trek on,

the beehive must protect and cherish

and guard their queen,

even when forced to swarm.

This is no day for tears,

it’s a day my mother did her best to prepare me for,

and my father knew would come.

Remember Job is more than one man,

and black birds are ever present

whenever there’s a breath to be drawn.

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