The Irish government issued
me a senior citizens, Ravel Card.

For use on trains and busses,
but it self destructs in ones Boléro.

First, they take away your
travel pass, then they move
on and instruct the Gardai
to menace you on the road.

Next they begin the probe into
your private life, list all the
people you are in contact with,
try and find something on you.

Nama Nama Krishna Krishna,
a vegetarian poet author organic
gardener, volunteer worker,
dry alcoholic gets breathalysed!

But I knew they would be coming
after me, because Ireland is now
a fascist state and we dare not speak
up or question the authorities.

All documentation relating to ones
means of survival can be deleted at
any time without warning, this includes
passports, licences, health cards.

The Irish are living in fear, not paranoia,
no, this is real, I am a victim of state
intervention into my life, my travel card
was deleted so I was not able to travel.

This is the tip of the iceberg, the submerged
apex of evil has revealed its tide line, we are
the northern hemispheres, New Zealand, the
ideal island populations for social experiments.

They are not concerned
as to whether it is a boy
or a child, surely, all that
matters is what *******
colour it is, because if it
be black, then Brexit don't
mean for ****, because in
just a few generations from
now, Britain will be goosed.

When we loose confidence,
posters on telegraph poles
can never reflect the true
image of what it looked like.

So, it is a rare occasion, when
somebody knocks on our doors
to announce, " I found it ".

Pensioners are often victims
of theft, they guard their
possessions, but when the
State becomes thief ?

        <>

Irish Government Deleted
the Free Travel Function
without any prior warning
leaving my wife and I stranded
in Dublin.
Fascism on the rise in Ireland.

like a child does with a box
of colored chalk on the sidewalk. And I skipped
and hopped on each square, with one leg up. And
pleasure was the order of the day. That was then,

when I placed the world on the hot
cement. After each rainfall, and the brush of
the leaves or the chill of the snow the colors bleed
into a possum. And we both wondered if

it’s dead or alive. Did we contrive
what it was when it lit the whole **** street -
was merely a figment, a child-like dream.

anger? What do I do with this
rage? I’ve been disregarded

as a ***** napkin after you ate, as a left-
over morsel stuck to your plate

before it was scraped
off. That just won’t do! I could

yell; I could scream. I could curdle like
cream. I could bang the pots and pans - cry

unleash the river dam. That just won’t do!
I could quietly hold it in. But quietly I’ve never

been. So, it’s going to come out in some evil
misdeed or whatnot with the greatest

force of ten-thousands elephants riding
the dark horse.

Attention Mallow Chamber
of Commerce, Rotary and
Bridge Club, Rich Hues has
put Mallow on his bucket
list as a must see before he
dies. Not impressed with
Venice, so lets hope that the
River Blackwater is flooded
when he comes. He would
also, like to visit Dan O'Mahony's
store and no doubt be formally
introduced to the O' Byrnes Family.

Ps.

This is a great honour for Mallow
Local papers please copy.

Dan O' Mahony has employed
the O'Byrnes as full time shop
detectives at his Riverside Store.

According to the local tourist
office, Mallow has seen a surge
in people wanting to meet them.

The CEO for Dan O's outwitted
Aldi's with this move of marketing
brilliance.

A "Meet The O'Byrnes" book
signing is planned at the store,
Rich Hues is expected to be there.

Banjo twangs footpads on the hood
Chirps of birds eight cylinder ****** low roar of lion lust
A colloidal rust like metal out side the closed door upon its front a rap a knock a lightly tapping dot dot dot
Upon the inner ear is must have
Heard is must have been was seen
Long or near a time had been
That ****** a love sick note upon the metal roof or cedar floor calls a memory a dream but hooting owls do this at dark not upon a stark bright light who bays howls screams and cries I hear in earthen things and bowels barreling forth forlorn the calling masks an earthly scowl I have been misbehaved to take her gifts with no display of gratitude I gave or bow it any interlude to pray to gods gods or her the mother of all
Of our nature things

I have put my faith
in men of your kind
all my life

deluded into thinking
my sanctuary lay in
being cradled by your arms

only to have my heart
ripped open, as a child
might tear off the petals
of a rose

as thoughtlessly
and gleefully

as I lay scattered across the floor,
bleeding a substance that is not blood,
but the very nectar of my soul

I make a vow to never again be
so recklessly in need of love
that I ignore my gut instinct

to run

and keep running

until I find sanctuary within myself,
until I become in tune with the beat of
my own heart, content with it's gentle rhythm,
to know that this is who I am, this is my purpose,
and this is who I need to stand for,

because when I am
at peace with myself
maybe I will see through
the likes of you