"that torrent of emotive poetic grief."
CH Gorrie

"The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on."

I
You probably already know, William,
that it’s pretty much all the same
as when you paced the battlements
and howled to the indifferent stars
"It seems I must bid the Muse go pack!"
, caught in Passion’s cataract –
that torrent of emotive poetic grief.

II
Though politics have changed,
there's still old men in the Senate
who stare but don’t seem to see.
They’re caught in youthful daydreams ---
the girls’ bras’ are too hard to unclasp,
even when employing that agéd charm.
(“But O that I were young again
and held her in my arms!”)
You weren't an exception;
politicians are also subject to the Human Condition.
Perhaps more than a poet,
probably more than a poet.
So I guess you got the double dose, William.
In a split second the State slips,
staggers, and reinvents foreign policies,
only to double-back on itself again and reverse.
I know you remember those you rhymed out in verse:
MacDonagh, MacBride, Connolly and Pearse;
their rifles still ring in the recesses
of the Public’s  miasmic mind –
the haze just dissipated over the Irish Sea.
And it's the spring of 2012.
Gore-Booth and Markiewicz are but marrowless bones,
Collins as well.
His still mix in the grave –
They’ve been for ninety years.
Yeah, it's pretty much the same,
Synge’s Playboy is still unpopular.
In fact, plays are largely unpopular,
and playwrights work in restaurants
where sweat lingers on their brows
to eventually drip into an already-unfit meal.
It's hard to imagine a play once
brought Dublin to riot;
you couldn't start a riot now if you had
thirty drunken anarchists
with two Molotovs a piece
watch Godwin’s grave get gutted.
Though information is more accessible,
it's an age of information-apathy.
You'd cock a shotgun to your temple
if you saw the state of education today.
I'm afraid, William, it's all the same:
the gyres still run on ---
I fear they're running out of breath.

III
But it’d be imbalanced to leave you here;
at least you split on a Saturday.
Late-January trembles each year,
as the earth did the day you were consumed
in Helen(“who all living hearts has betrayed”)
’s immutable embrace;
your heart alone she could not betray.
And blind Homer who sang her betrayals
has ceased; mouths ran dry the day you died.
You left before your trade imprisoned you;
before the pen enchanted
your remaining years to a page.
You left before you couldn’t:
before the blitzkrieg;
before the world lost ten million more Robert Gregory’s
and you died from exhaustion mid-rhyme on the seventh-stanza of the five-million eight-hundred and fifty-fourth
elegy.
Regardless, it's really all the same.
Even those beggars are still playing twister with their whip.

"We aren't built to be emotive"
Roger Turner - Poet

A dropped ball on the goal line
A tackle missed down field
It's amazing how a football game
Can make a man's mind yield

We come to tears when our teams lose
Even worse when our team wins
It's when we show all our emotions
It's when we break the MANLY SINS

But our girlfriend gets real angry
When we don't utter a word
When they want to talk of feelings
It's a word we've never heard
We're MEN and damn proud of it
We show support for MANLY things
Like football games and racing cars
Not relationshippy things

We wear our hearts upon our sleeve
When the two minute gun has sounded
When the game has come to overtime
When the last corner has rounded

We sit upon our seats edge
Nothing can break us from this trance
Not even when our sexy girl
Comes and does a naked dance

But our girlfriend gets real angry
When we don't utter a word
When they want to talk of feelings
It's a word we've never heard
We're MEN and damn proud of it
We show support for MANLY things
Like football games and racing cars
Not relationshippy things

We cry when our dog passes
We get upset when things go wrong
But we'll never show emotion
To a bloody Adele song

We aren't built to be emotive
At least not when women want us to
I'll tell you more about emotion
When the football season's through

"An emotive string flows"
Samantha Rose Schaefer

Chasing each moment,
as a pendulum swings on and on.
Dancing in the flight
of a sensitive mystery.
When the light switches on,
I stand there frozen.
An emotive string flows
through me and throughout.
The laws of unrequitement
damper all the smiles.
The flaws of each entity,
tear my soul thin as ice.
I know what must be done,
but can't bring myself
to let go.

Tyler J Perrin May 2011

God damn it felt good on the days you were happy to see me. Once I thought I heard you sing me a love song, and meant it, but I guess I was mistaken. I've been trying to fill these empty spots, so my heart would no longer have to hear you leave me. For all the ghosts that waltz in my bedroom, this is for the time we tried to break our walls. If you ever want to know what it felt like when you left, just ask. I'll try to hold back my pain like a shotgun shell, but don't hold it against my love when his finger slips, he just gets so nervous every time you're around him. And I didn't mean to explain myself, but I've been having knife fights with my emotions, and cutting out wind instruments since the moment you left. If you've ever wanted to know how it felt when you left, just look at my eyes. That's not holy water you see but a man letting his emotions free.

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