There has got to be a more poetic
way to express one's infatuation
for her, other than saying that,
I am in love. She must have had
a lifetime of sensual suitors who
were seduced by her beauty. If
one were to take a page out of
Antonio's book, regard beyond
the enticing, of Portia's caskets,
it is there you'll find those grains
of flour, yeasted by her fondness.

                  <>

For Sheila Fitzpatrick
Owner of ABC Organic
Bakery English Market
City of Cork Ireland.

It rained a bit in the night,
forest foliage and leafless
trees with water buds did
weep.

Down the side of an Oak,
trickles of a mossy dew
pooled at the root junction,
where our dogs drank from.

Not long after, when we
exited into an adjacent
field, their woofing began, it
must have been the bark juice !

Reverse colonisation
is the price of empire.
Ireland, the only non
colonizing european
state sadly missed out
on the Arab Diaspora.
It is my dream to see
Monsieur Cardin bequeath
his entire Lacoste portfolio
to the Bedouins.

All for one and one for Allah!!

Jour de Poisson
en France.
In the UK they
say, fools day!

He-Haws, is
how they are
often described
by the media.

Bankers, Accountants,
MP's Mep’s, PM’s Royals
Lords, Ladies, Gentlemen
Peers, Toffs, Tossers.


Cabog's, gobshites,
ignoramuses, mug's,
clowns, jerks, clots,
muggins, cuckoos.

But imagine, The British
only dedicate one solitary
day in every year to all
of these ****** eejits.

.          Nocturnal.

              <>    <>

     The nails in my coffin
     won’t have no heads

                  bro

     There will be scratch
         marks on the lid

                  bro

      No stars, no stripes
     just scars and gripes

                  bro

          Stand Up Bro
            Kneel Bro
             Sit Sister.

         For your rights
        Join in the fights
        We don’t need no
     ******* Lights !


ps.

Rosa Parks Sat
Bob Marley Stood
Colin Kaepernick Knelt

ps x 2

Brexiter's turned SKCAB

---------------------------------

Co Copyrighted Poem © ©
With Rich Hues.

When Enrico’s Olde Horse
Was Too Old to work, he was
turned out by his master.

It is a quote from a book when
we were at primary school and
perhaps what first signalled that
I was a Socialist, humanist,
naturalist, poet, herbivore as
observed and stated at one of
my book launches, by James Kennedy
the Ex Mayor of Mallow and current
contestant as a councillor.

I would love to know from whence
the quote came from, especially
now that I am in the same position
as Enrico’s Horse, the metaphor for
Enrico being The Fine Gael Government.

It is a very important lesson that has
taken me a lifetime to learn.

Ps


Proposed book title about the abuse
of the elderly " The Knackers Yard ".

The author is currently learning
how to **** whilst walking.

Willie wrote to Santa Claus
requesting a Waterman™
for Christmas.

It rained a lot on the Eve,
back in Kerry.

On the morning of the 25th
Willie was awakened to a
tapping of glass from the
outside of his upstairs window.

He quickly stepped out of bed
on to a wool rug that went Baa.

It was a half dead sheep washed
up from the river (with blue markings)

Immediately, Willie put two and two
together, Chimney flooded, Santa
climbed up to give him his present!

Over he went, excited as anything,
opened the window and there was
Mickey Nugent in a rescue canoe.

Willie said, " There has been a mistake
Mickey, I asked for a Waterman™ and
not a fireman, **** off and take that
****** sheep up to Billy Mullane ".

.                 Solace in Soliloquy

        Today’s depression has taken
        me into a trough, a concave of
     stalagmites, a damp dark dungeon.
     But for the insulated cotton wool sky
   I would scream so loud as quarantined
thunder behind designated pales of silence.

There has just been an
announcement over the
intercom in 2 languages.

Chien Perdu, Dog Lost.

Attention Attention, a
photo of Arly has been
posted at the Pursers
office, if anyone knows
of his whereabouts, can
you please contact us.

Hmmm, I say to that, he
is no loss, noisy little runt.

Hope the Gulls got him.


Time now 12:56 C.E.T on
board Connemara en route
to Cork from Santander.
12th November 2018.

Today is the day
according to May
half in & half out
is how it will play.

Cut a maggot in two
the divide as we do
don't care if it lives
I haven't a clue.

Ireland is split
think we give a ****
I stood on the border
faced south so to spit.

I'm done with that lot
one and all is a sot
nothing but troubles
since the year dot.

I know we can win
if we try once again
starve into submission
with another famine.

The Ayes to the right
with a unified fight
for one and for all
no mind of their plight.


FURY AS TOP TORY WARNS: ‘WE CAN STARVE THE IRISH’ | AOH Home ...
brooklynirish.org/2018/12/10/fury-as-top-tory-warns-we...
British Tory MP suggested using the possibility of food shortages in Ireland to coerce negotiators into dropping their opposition to the remilitarisation of the border area after Brexit.

It is time for a Uber U-turn

    Liz Truss has a lesson to learn

      She can't balance the books

         With the figures he cooks

  But was Kwasi the one to discern?

.                Deliverence


       Freedom wears feathers

   and so long as we cage birds

     our interpretation of liberty

         will always define us.

A candle flickered
and lied about its
height,
but tear dropped
grease and waning
wax exposed the
threadbare trite.


ps.

We are in County Wick^Low
now, minding a pair of Donkeys.

Tadgh Sé was Seacht when he discovered
Dara and Beirt behind a Trí.

Naoi, he said when they told him to get
Ocht.

Dó Dó Driscoll was summoned, he took
none of their nonsense.

Deich Ban Garda arrived with Aon, his first
day in Mallow, he asked, “ Who’s getting Náid “?

Cúig we join in, we don’t Ceathair about Amhain
off, besides, high time someone Ochtar.

Ps.

This is a colloquial poem in Irish and English
mixed, I don't expect many readers to understand.

The difference between
what is real and is false,
is that the Irish genocide
truly occurred, but there
is n,ooo,ooo,ooo evidence
to substantiate the figures
for plagiarised versions.

At a dinner dance for dogs at
Derrybeg in County Donegal,
a sign at the door instructed
each and every species, to
undo their *** holes and hang
them in the cloakroom on
hooks provided.

This was of course, as a result
of the previous years mess on
the dance floor.

All the dogs respected the
request and everything was
going fine, without incident,
until a Dalmatian got into an
argument with a Dachshunde.

During the fracas, a kerosene
lamp was knocked to the floor,
before long, the hall was ablaze.

Smoke filled the corridors, panic
set in, barking howling is all one
could hear as all the dogs rushed
to the cloakroom picking up the
first ******* they could find.

That is why, to this day, in Ireland,
one can see canines in the parks
sniffing other dogs derrieres in
an effort to find their own.

Means if you go on holidays
and it rains a lot in a place where
you were guaranteed sunshine,
they will give you a free sun
lamp when you return, to Direland

.       Cross Avian
          

Out beyond the treble

  Glazed window (˚<

Proper Gander was

Miming something in

Bird talk to (˚> Dumb

        Down Duck.

      "Get Plucked"

a perfect haiku

               with seventeen syllables

If you Count Dracul'

I am not sure whether
                            Agnetha is dyslexic
or Anni a palindromist.
                             There is no point in
asking Benny or Bjorn.
                        Chiquitita was unable
to tell them what’s wrong.
                    So, why is ABBA written
backwards in lipstick, on the
              mirror, between two kisses?

I saw a yellow vest,
submerged, under
Le Pont Neuf.

I yelled for a Buoy,
in French, une bouée,
feminine, seemed odd!

The umbilical cord
through which mother
earth receives the
necessary ingredients
for her pallet of Spring,
is the rainbow!

God grant me the amenity
To reject the things I cannot exchange
Storage to arrange the things I can
And a woman to know the reference

Mightier than mites,
stalag trees steered
our eyes, skyward,
from the high hills
of County Wicklow.

I beLIEve in truth fairy's,
I beLIEve in the grape vine
I beLIEve in ghosts
I beLIEve in old wives tales
I beLIEve in the will of God
I beLIEve in optical illusions
I beLIEve in word play
I beLIEve in simulation
I beLIEve in subliminal deception.
I beLIEve in what I <> <> only !

Ps.

Hear LIE's the Truth.

Re-vision
    Euro
  ( 2020 )

Mmmmm
Messi,
especially
when it
comes to
Dough
even
Ron-
Al-
Do.
Because
now he has
Turin over
to the Juve's
in Italie,
easier to
get a pound
of flesh !

Ask Portia.

In appearance, the Irish border
resembles a skipping rope at
a children's playground, after
                 recess.

The head mistress has rung the
bell, recreation over, back inside
until the next break up, which,
    (could be permanent)


ps.

Karen Bradley is the Secretary
of State for the six counties.
She said, " Catholic civilian
deaths in Northern Ireland by
The BritishArmy, were not
crimes ".

Revelation


   If the only constant

  In life is change and

the now, is perpetual,

     then, this is why,

           perhaps,

that Superman wore

his underpants on the

outside of his trousers.

C ontact
A crostic
P osting
F inn’s
I  maginative
N ovel
Y arns
@
G lobetrotting
M usician
A nd
I  rish
L yricist
•
C haotic
O ccasionally
M ystifying

The over heating theory
is a planet ploy to endorse
the profusion of nuclear
power plants, they are just
generating our consensus.


17˚ Mallow 07:00 am
June 28th 2019. Cloud.

For some there's an exit
fed up of the Brexit
May goes to Brussels
no backstop she begs it.

Westminster talks make
no sense so they vex it
If Guy Fawkes had a vote
he'd no doubt go for kegs it.

Russian trawler with
payload of white flags
destined for Ukraine
seized by the French!

We can change history
miss Clarke, it is easy,
just re-write the lies
your historians wrote
about the early settlers
in New Zealand, which
if you had any respect
for, it would be called
Aotearoa, the official
Maori name. Tell the
world about your nations
attempt to eradicate
native Maori and what
is written at the base
of the Obelisk on One
Tree Hill by Sir John
Logan Campbell.


*Laura Clarke is the British high commissioner to New Zealand

             <>



Campbell, like many European New Zealanders of his generation, had expected that Māori would gradually die out and that an impressive memorial would be a most fitting symbol to perpetuate their memory.[19] By the 1930s this had obviously not happened, and some considered the term "memorial" was inappropriate with many Māori objecting to its use. During construction of the obelisk, a suggestion was made that it should be described as a centennial tower to mark the centennial year of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi and not a memorial.[19]




https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jan/02/heres-why-the-uk-wants-to-strengthen-its-relationship-with-new-ze­aland-maori

Dom Felice Vaggioli The Italian priest who's book on New Zealand was banned by Queen Victoria.

Cagey bees swarming

                                   a Kiev of activity

W.A.S.P's recruiting drones

                       <>

WASP's ?

white anglo Saxon presbyterians

We can't say

From the river to the sea

We dare not wave the

Palestinian flag

We are not permitted

to wear the Keffiyeh

But we can say that we

ALL LOVE HUMMUS.

If fish could fly
question marks
with helium floats
rather than lead,
would make the
best hooks using
a bait that didn't
attract the birds.

Somebody just to
me suggested that
little bits of Brexit
are easy to swallow
providing the cast
was not exaggerated
by the hot air being
used for levitation.

Poubelle Corbyn, recycle
your compost, it is the
dung thing in your position.
The See - Saw has come to
a halt, out weighed by May,
thus leaving you high and sly.
Go back to your allotment, try
and grow yourself a pumpkin
for Halloween and don't forget
a penny for the Guy, that'll be
Farage, with the Ni- Gel, for
shafting you all and rightly so!

Cannibalism is illegal,
but carnivores can keep
up with their practice,
just in case, that one day,
the law might be changed.

Well, after all, a Po Lice
is a chamber *** for parasites.

So, what are the Gendarmes
in France complaining about?

There are mountains
Benbulben is a beacon

There are lakes tied
to rivers and brooks

There are bye-ways
of The Drovers era

And romantic villages
with poetical names

It is bordered to Donegal
by a seminal chord

Which gives it a melodic
accent in regional intonation.

Oh! Cook Coup shall
! call thee bird, or but
a wandering vice.

The Chiefs Table displays
ingredients but never
his classified recipes.

Trump uses Jenny Craig
as his Venezuelan mascot
for food aid, regime change,

with a Haiku of seasoning from-
Syria, Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan,
France, UK Labour.

Deprived of writing paper in
his prison cell at Vincennes,
à Paris, circa 1789, Le Marquis
de Sade wrote a missive to his
wife, Renee Pelagie de Montreuil,
on the crust of a fresh Baguette,
avec une plume et l'encre noire.

I have decided to obdurate,
because, if the only constant
in life, is change, then why
be bothered with resolutions!

Indeed, and why not,
small is beautiful, but
also healthier than large.
Ageing and fatting are
a symbiotic pair of which
youth and gaunt are the
inverse, hence the Title!

It was a day without rain.

But the clouds?

Well, they will always be
be there,
reminding us not to look
up, I suppose.

It was a day without wind.

Flags redundant posturing
whispered final obscenities
prior to a sentence of
superfluousness.

It was a day without fear.

Dins of the past echoed,
what was, a forgotten silence.

Only, a day after yesterday.

Yet, it arrived with all the
amnesia, of the one, before!

.            The Eye Test

                 <•><•>

         Please look at the
         Eye chart and tell
         Me what you see.

         It’s twenty twenty
         Doctor your clock
         Is still in old time.

         No, not that wall,
         The opposite one
          Beside the mirror.

         I can see it now it
         Doctor, it is twenty
         Twenty one, almost!

Poetry

        is

          not

               a

                crhyme

Literally, loitering litter
leaves landscapes looking
like labyrinths leading lonely
lethargic lads lacking lustre
lame lamenting Lu Lu's Lingerie
laundered locally lampooning
looser's lost leaders landing
lecherous louts leftist ledgers
legacies legally legitimised
libellous loafers lobbying
locksmiths logically liaising
loggers longliners lubriciously
lucid lookalike lunatics luring
lasses lustfully locating low
level latino's lavatories.

Somebody highlighted my
spelling mistake on the wall
of a pedestrian underpants!!
======================
||||||||||||||||||||||
======­================
              

  " Miss-under-stood "

I'm not into voyeurism,
but, either I am colour
  blind, or, Victoria has
  disclosed her secret(e).


ps.

Things are looking up!

      Samuel Beckett.

The nightmares have begun
but more than that, a reality
has come to support what is
my greatest fear, which is, the
conscription of an obligated
necessity that compels me to
go home, where I suspect my
past demons are preparing a
subterfuge for a repetition of
the unbearable likeness of
Bweeng, close to the Monkey's
Bridge en route to Nad which
is the Cuckoo's Nest of the area.
Down in the village, dare I go
and break my sobriety in the
Embassy for troubled minds
seeking refuge from repressive
attitudes that pervaded the land
when I left half a century ago?
I think I will, must, because I
may well need an anaesthetic to
cope, so where else. Looneys Pub!