Sunday, May 30, 2010

Va Va BOOM! It's THE BUS wit Bonkers BILL!


So Bill has set us a tricky set of instructos, some passengers have leapt aboard , others have crumbled by the wayside waiting for the chipper van and performing seals. Could be a long wait.

But anyway we had to think of/steal a line, delete the second half of it and invent new endings and then boil it for 20 mins, leave to simmer for a further 20 then serve (cooled) on a bed of rice with a Domestos and paraquat dressing.

I was going to explain the provenance of this poem to explain it a bit but I've lost the plot so I might do it later. Best just post the thing now. My line was from the Yeats poem called ' Ireland 1913' ......and was 'Romantic Ireland's dead and gone.'


Romantic Ireland retched and wrung,

Dead and gone.Half-cut pilgrim

Cold shouldered in The International.

A drunken parody plastic Saint Francis

broken and betrayed,

sandwiches soup and beds made

not for sleep for lying in.Barman

in namesake dungeon 15 Baggot street,

casts a cold eye and cold tongue.


Kavanagh no ghost to be seen

Save for the obscene boredom, neglect

Nurtured in McDaids off Graffton Boulevard

Memories left to the picture postcards

who will remember to weep dry tears

for words so poor in spirit.

To save myself from hypocrisy,

the price of a last glass,

every coin posessed fumbled

with slur of patronising words

to grubby styrofoam.


The vultures have their pick

Dole out the liquid drugs

Behan battered nobody

Buried in some forgotten hole

the kindness of strangers lives on without us

Ferried off to some foreign land

Like O’Leary In his grave.


17 comments:

Gwei Mui said...

Oh my this is a weighty peom full of nooks and crannies. I felt as if I was on one of those street tours being show this is where, and here we have. But the final lines will stay with me for a whle yet:

Buried in some forgotten hole

the kindness of strangers lives on without us

Ferried off to some foreign land

Like O’Leary In his grave.

Niamh B said...

I would really like your history on this one! Intrigued by the various references. Enjoyed the beds not for sleeping, and vultures with liquid drugs.
This one has a lot of depth.

Rachel Fox said...

You do misery and hopelessness very well! Good job we know you're such a sunny individual behind it all...
x

the watercats said...

love the ghosts walking about in this.. you can almost feel them watching over your shoulder as you read this.. saying something like; "that EEjit, he writes with a touch of class about him"...
Atmosphere a go go! :-D

Dave King said...

Not sure I got all the allusions, but enough t Loved the irony.o know that I was in the presence of a master. Loved the irony.

crazyfieldmouse said...

very dark atmosphere and slightly disturbing images. bits are lost on me where they are obviously specific references but the overall effect is very strong in spite of that.
thanks for sharing
cfm

Titus said...

TFE, I have read and read and read this, and it gets better each time. That opening "retched and wrung" is a brilliant pairing.

Dense, tense, tragic and a feeling. Real good one.

Poetikat said...

It's so bitter and sad. It's very well written, but it's rather bursting my bubble when I envision the Old Country. Oh well, if you were keen on Canada, I could do the same for you.

Kat

Heather said...

It's a good thing I missed the bus this week TFE, I couldn't cope with the Domestos and paraquat dressing and even have trouble with a sweet chilli sauce. I've been away for a week and so busy besides that, that my muse seems to have left me. Your poem is so strong and very profound.

Terresa said...

Bitter, bold, delicious. Thanks for the serving. Can I have seconds??

Karen said...

Unfortunately, I know I missed most of the references, but I certainly caught the tone and language. Retched and wrung - great sound!

The Weaver of Grass said...

Could we have sound of you reading it - real performance stuff this. Hope you will be back from your travels to jump on the bus next week.

Peter Goulding said...

I think you've packed so many ingredients into the recipe that its hard to describe the taste!
Sounds like you had great fun distorting all those soundbites!

Bill said...

I like it. It got me re-reading 1913. I discovered that if you like this poem, it's definitely worth going back to the Yeats, then reading yours again.

Jeanne Iris said...

Oh TFE, I hear the hunger of Kavanagh and the bitterness of Yeats in these lines of yours. So beautifully poignant! And excuse me if I disagree with ol' Willy, but "Romantic Ireland is NOT dead and gone."

Tres, tres bien, mon ami!

And so great to share a cup of coffee with you again, my friend!

Dominic Rivron said...

I'm sure I commented on this the other day. Did my thoughts vanish into the ether? Perhaps I hit the wrong key!

I really liked this poem - it sent me back to the Yeats poem and I appreciated it even more when I reread it afterwards. I think that makes sense!

Marion said...

Fookin' awesome! I loved it. Makes me wish I was Irish instead of French/Indian/Mutt. LOL! Blessings!