Friends & Family
churches, in the chapels - only Man I see.
In the Falls and in the Creggan -
only Man I see.
Man have I found beside me in every situation;
and in fortune - only Man I see.
In the Abbey and the Vatican, in death and
In every incantation - only Man I see.
In the shattered
towns of Lebanon, In Cairo and Jerusalem - only Man I see.
In the missions,
in the pulpits, in the faces of the priests,
In the blank-eyed congregations
- only Man I see.
Open-eyed I peer about me and listen to the claims
Sufi poets, evangelists and Allahs nine and ninety names,
But in all
the faces staring back - only Man I see.
By sectarian genocide.
Christ shrivels in the womb,
to be born.
A bomb in the manger,
Within a span of hours
The Angelus our requiem,
Church a charnel house of guilt
That even Christ cant cleanse.
stone, grey hearts, black minds,
Last years right this years
A faithless faith a-dying,
An ecumenical ping-pong.
and Catholic kill
To prove their way is right
To Gods most perfect
Muslim wars with Christian,
Everyone kills the Jew.
worlds a religious abattoir.
Love! exhort the holy
Your enemy and neighbour.
Love them to death if
Dear Christ, is anybody there?
Were drowning in the
blood of love,
Doesnt anybody care?
grody to the max, be a little froopy, man.
Conceptualize your personal
Thats in the space where youre at.
macho-tripping or pulling the head-honcho number.
Simply redefine the
Your interface with integral mutual massage.
functional integration, man.
Like experiencing the whole eclectic
In the Cosmic overview awesome.
A world within
Of dragons, knights and druid wizards.
Sharpened spoons for
Big hairy monster who devours
Little boys among the
A world of rescued maidens,
But not quite sure
Because they always seem to cry.
Triumphant battles, quests and
And Tigers crouch among the weeds.
Blowing bubbles into
Where rockets whizz and fairies grace,
A world where any wish
All within a world within
An English country
The truly great
poets such as, Eliot, Hopkins, Keats, Hardy and
so many others are flowers,
exotic, elegant, fecund flowers.
Flowers nurtured in a rich soil of
education and literary
environments, brought to the full blossom of the
language with care and constant attention'
I, on the other hand,
can never be a flower. Despite a warm,
safe and loving home my education was
awareness in a back street, down-beat school.
saving grace was a love of reading, everything and anything,
unguided, totally indiscriminate. A love that unlocked
that first important
window in my mind - a troubled, disturbed
feeling that somehow, somewhere, I
was missing out on
something important, something tremendous.
the encouragement of family and friends and all the
'flowers' many more
windows have been unlocked and I have
grown from the poor soil of my early
years into, at the very least,
a weed. Proving that even weeds, with a
little pothos, can
break through the concrete of their
The gateway to
the Elysian Fields
May not be draped with angels
Or lit like a heavenly
It could be a rotting five bar gate
Hanging off its
With an obstacle to test your resolve.