Archive for the ‘Features’ Category
A brilliant new poem from Kevin Higgins, written for the Luas workers.
Against Plan to Ruin Revolution Day with Strike
for the Luas workers
We’re all for workers’ rights,
like nothing more
than to browse the better variety
of coffee table book for poignant
photographs: cloth caps and blue overalls
whose existences were
exquisitely terrible, down to the way
typhus so cinematically throttled
their two, three, four, and five
year olds, same day industrial slicers
took their little fingers, or perhaps,
if they were lucky,
Because of those bastard
trade unions, we shall not
see their picturesque likes again.
But what makes our pulsing
haemorrhoids pop is Dublin
tram workers’ ongoing plan
to make their customers walk, to disrupt
Revolution Day celebrations
by going on strike for money
they wouldn’t know what to do with
if they had it.
The men and women of 1916
didn’t go out that day
so that a hundred years later
tourists could be inconvenienced,
and distinguished men in eco-friendly
Kashmir sweaters made irritable
in their magnificent armchairs.
When, come that Monday,
the ghosts of Markievicz, Connolly, & Pearse
alight at Heuston Station; they must
be allowed go about the business
of watching us pretend to remember them,
unencumbered by picket lines,
or small people daring
to take their share.
Some thoughts from Ed Horgan of Shannonwatch on Mother’s Day.
So it’s happy Mother’s Day isn’t it. Lets hope some of the thousands, and more likely tens of thousands, of mothers, will have a happy Mother’s Day, as they flee from the conflicts in the Middle East with their little children, as they huddle at the razor wire fences, in the snow and rain, on the borders with Macedonia, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Austria, and Slovakia, being refused refugee protection.
At Shannon airport this morning it was cold, wet and windy, but I was dressed in warm clothing and was able to go the Park Inn hotel and warm up with tea and a scone after taking the photos below.
Soliloquy in Voice of Ageing Rock Journalist
There I was on the meditation mat
Jackson Browne gave me to mark
the year of the rat, naked apart
from what’s left of my tremendous
hair, incantating the word
“progressive” to my holy self
and the tiny birds at
the window, who are always
my best first audience,
when the truth came to me:
no other combination of parties
can deliver the certain
(and required) surge
in whole family suicide
among those made live in the kind of hotels
not frequented by Keith Richards,
that will occur
if this government is returned,
as it must be.
I’m most famous
for having once, allegedly,
shared a hot tub, and my thoughts
on the heroic death
of Salvador Allende,
with Ireland’s baldest
I’m what happens when you take
not quite enough cocaine.
During a session at Lille’s Bordello,
I once pulled Bono’s finger;
or what I thought was
I offer these words as evidence
that I’m not actually dead yet. Satan
be good to me and what remains
of my hair.
A humorous look at the 2016 General Election inspired by the Water Protests and Enda Kenny.
Written by Fintan Foley
Sung by Kevin McCarthy