UTwo

You too

love in print. Desire. Speak. Affirm reality and myth, hear
"One" in the music of what happens. Thermal reality.

Earth and the Unforgettable Fire. All nought but a good sun,
warm, dry, wet and never cold. Nirvana.

You too.

~

All because of you who move in mysterious ways. Gloria.
Even better than the real thing, believing life returns

when we breathe no more and pass to shade. You be loving
first fan

companion letter. Me and you two'ish proof that in print life
is nought but confusion, sh! Listen, knowing-ones rattle and hum
sound.....

~

ing.


"All along the watchtower.....All I want is you." Too
logical a signature from an artist of sound

believing music is a gift bestowed by a good -
Sun-Faced-Bono-Ogma.

Ogma?

~

I am he. God of sound - music in Irish myth.... Group?
Tuatha De Dannan - pronounced two-a-haw-day-donon.

On the land?.... 300 years, circa 1500'ish BC.
Knowing-ones. Know about sound. Spells. Do magic

in language. Change physical shape with words
alone.
The Sons of Mil? Orphan's. Invaders from the sea who
came and seized power -

circa 1000-500'sh BC...Vanquished then banished TDD under-
ground. My clan - now faery or wee folk. Sons of Mil? Fifth
and final

"wave of of invaders." I taught them to write in Ireland from 5C on. First
recorders of her civil law, written as myth "happened." Fresh from

memory onto pages time forgot. Fact.

~

I, me, we, Ogma - call me what you will - plays a simple 3 string
instrument of magic. Each sound has the same effect on all listeners.

Sound from String one. Listener feels joy and only love. Boogie.

Travolta happens; action, natures force, dancing to Jacko. Off the
Wall. Thriller. Springsteen at Superdome; Lansdowne or Croker,
deadly.


String two. Utter sorrow; terminal misery, zero jiggy - torpor
of all time; the sound for suicide. Ballymun flats 100 feet up,
jump.

Pluck three? Lull all to slumber with this note, strain - string
call them what you will. I sound reality.

~


My trained-noise-workers had a thousand years in print.
Before that we were druids. Made magic with voice only. No ink.

Filidh. Plural of ,fili or "poets", who scribbled an unbroken path for
centuries, until the 17'th
collapsed society abruptly and we stopped for a hiatus or caesura

~

We paused. Scorched earth forced us to flee and surrender beneath my

~

wave when a take-over bid with lots of teething troubles kicked in
and we lost generations, as Penal law replaced the code. 100%. We

became outlaws at home when a stroke of the quill on a bill made it
illegal to speak in gaeilge. Our native tongue. A simple contract

written in plain English for subjects, unable to speak it. What about
Status Quo?
Only on paper; making a show with no native fans in attendance, happen.

Anglo had to import his own. Plants. We were driven mental by a support
act's demand for top billing on our stage. Anglo, ceaselessly plucking my
string of woe.

"Subjects" begging monarchy to stop. Calling for "play-fair" and the
return of ourbono life. Ogma to stop the misery

chord. Noise joy; in the uninterrupted status quo of a good
reality conjured from myth Anglo made illegal. No shit.

~
All Because of You

Monday - Mount Temple School notice board, Larry puts it up.
Saturday - September '75. Seven kids in Mullen's kitchen. There
about the ad.

-1985 - four onstage at Wembley. Live Aid. "I have climbed the highest
mountain, I have run through the field.."..from the dressing room,
through the wings

only to be with you. Up the scaffold. Silent; hugging a world
who came that day. Larry wasn't happy. He thought of walking off

stage. He wanted to play; for me to sing. Let the planet hear Gloria
"in the name of love.."... Party Girl. I Will Follow. Us. U2; who
happen

at Landsdowne Road, Ballsbridge, Yankee Stadium, Redrock - latest hit
from the catalogue. Mid-eighties. Miami. Crocket and Tubbs undercover

in a speedboat. Don in white linen. Wham at the height of their power
Bowie and Jagger "dancing in the street" - Phil Collins to Boston by
concorde.

~

Peter and Ivan only lasted two weeks after first rehearsal;
or was it a month?
Dick's brother - Dave - who happens from the platform - Edge

happened in the core that July weekend. He too is part
practice; life, creation; call it what you will, Larry.

Love deposit here; immediately, please. "It's a beautiful
day.."

~

drop beneath my wave, stay addicted to faith
sound the magic. We’re all - word for word - as

good when spoken simple, direct and kind.

Sincerely Yours

~

Julie Andrews and U
2 on top of Howth hill.

Over and out for now; lover, letter-in-law. Go beneath

~

break feet and walk with St Paul and I. Mind that bag
of mint imperials; or are they the oil-rig toffee Jackie

Stewart "doodle doo"d about; in the pit-stop on
Saturday Grandstand, or was it Tiswas?

~

Mirror-mirror on Arthur Scargill's wall, make Art fairest
of them all.

Answer in song; if Arthur was "...in a
hotel room in New York City, round about the time a

friend of ours, er - Little Steven - was putting together a
record of Artists Against Apartheid..."

~

..or at the miners conference in Scarborough at a Wheels
of Steel disco? Rod Stewart on the karaoke? "Wake up Maggie

I think I 've got something to say to you...". Hollering for
fights
benefit night at the train station, Doncaster branch;

or was it Maddison Square Garden, Art sung "..about a
man in a shantytown outside of Johannesburg, who is

sick of looking down the barrel of white South Africa.
A man who is at the point where he is ready to take up

arms against his oppressor. A man who has lost faith in
the peacemakers of the West, who argue and fail to

~

support a man like Bishop Tutu and his request for
economic sanctions against South Africa."

Arthur was heard - at his bungalow in Scunthorpe, for tea
and a Sarnie. Chicken in a basket later that night, when

he starred on the picket line with Billy Bragg,
demanding a bitta wedge. It was only a quid.

"Am I buggin' you? I don't mean to bug ya..."

or was it a tenner?


~

28 JUNE - 05 - UNFORGETTABLE

Dublin dusk; getting together, darkness imminent
at the canal.

"OK edge.. (David Evans)..play the blues."

~

The Edge's sound; music, what "happens," call it what
you will Larry and Adam

is "a preacher stealing hearts at a travelling
show;" hinting of an apocolypse..now, in the air

at Phibsboro. Croke Park. Croker. 80,000. Monday
outside the ground.
A full house. Pride. "This song is not a rebel song,

this song is...the news today; I can't close my eyes
and make it... New Years Day. Not one a dud. Totally

amazing; or was it, flat? Not happening? No, no it was
the night love came to town, leapt around the stage in

crepe-lifts and transported them through a prism of love
to Van Diemens land - where the streets have no name

and raised a silver lidded keyboard, in the snooker hall
on Camden Street; where dolls hang out, sniffing my talent.

~

I forget her face; pale, refracting daylight through the
candle we lit to commemorate the B52's, Vietnam, Ned

Kelly and Wham, or was it Wigan with Culture Club supporting?
He does not keep loaves and fishes in a fridge near Killiney

Boy George does not go the Forty-Foot, New York, Red Rock.
In Benidorm He is incognito, in shades and baseball cap

under the blood red sky of Alicante; at a water park, Bono
John Lennon - Helter-Skelter - telling Bono go back to

the top of the slide Then you stop and you turn and you go for
a ride Then you get to the bottom, then you.. see me again.

~

See?
The Beatles

Bono and you too want me to love again. Hear September daylight, cool
breeze at Sandycove. A dream to be the free man "who come in the name
of.." Bono

Love. Touch the ground where JFK, his brother Bobby and Gaybo spoke
"Mrs Byrne got diamond eyes.....what more in the name of.."

..JFK, mobbed from New Ross to Phoenix Park in '62. The Late Late
live. Gaybo; in the ruck, squeezing to get near. Have you read

Gaybo's autobiography Marilyn Monroe? Read behind the lines or
tossed off some to Clarke Gable, Ralph, Larry Lamb, Olivier
Elton or

~

Lord John. In the Hyannis Port compound? Sixties. Bee Gees,
Massachusetts, Miles Davis and John Coltrane at the Mixer. Down

to the marina in shorts and a kagool. Picnics, on the beach. Swim.
Ball games; sandwiches, find unrehearsable, love

"All I want is you,"

and two cans of gargle?

~

Or was it ten, that night at Croker by the canal Gloria. Beautiful
Day. One. The one that goes on and on. The White Album

Abbey Road. Regents Park. Zoo TV. Tourists take pictures of the zebra
crossing. It's pissing down; Shaune Ryder's no smack.

Sir Bob - "One" is on the radio, sing

"I don't like Mondays"

~

Bono.

gives and is as all should be. Ogma the good god is the one you
want to be

Peace upon you too; balance of grain containing galaxies of
void and light, guide me to the music of what happens, please
be good.

Happy Monday's, here to happen.
Bono

~

Sir

~

my servant
awaiting a cipher to number for a modest sum, "did you

come here for forgiveness; did you come to raise the dead,
did you come here to play Jesus to the lepers in your head"

and plagiarise? Poesy's Page - arise Larry; Bono, Adam, the Edge
and please.

You too?

~

or is it U2?

I know

~

Edge is not the Bono and Bono not the Edge. Adam is not Larry or he
Adam Ant.
Larry made it happen. He put the note up; I accept Mullen is

nothing without me, or me him. Only voice, gifted lyrics, Ogma's
word

~

Sound.