Sunday, September 14, 2008

Has Anyone a Pen?

In the warm womb of August
a bold trace drew within the night

a self-sleight of tongue, by silence
behoven to what force surrenders

a flat plate by the sun.

Silver, strange and yet it was some
stranger star our eye met, stalling

above leaves of grey mist which awoke
in the depth of a New York dawn

the ermine pulse of a swirling red
flicker and blue lit shawl below

the hollow mouthed source of our
alternative terminal view

caught turning on the radar
as an absent oyster shell -

shifting information some
place else.

The draíocht dawned in hazel of all
coirí filíochta music, and a trinity of light

configured eo fis from fizzing imbas
forosnai, nimble, swift and a tuatha

speck swirling nut-salmon
on an immram, connected to the borders

of our wisdom source six grades above us -
tong a toing mo thuath - throne of ollamh

the Réalta na bhFile: in Abraham's

hebrew the she brew ban-draoi, faced
two cliffs and streaming down, three

cauldrons, sourced its integral ability
within a mind and heart from the ridge-pole

the Cli to Anrtuh gap, dicating what wyrd
will come.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

The talk at the latter part of this week, has been about the removal of a poem by an education examining board of a poem by Carol Ann Duffy OBE, whose career has been built on controversy.

She was born in Scotland and moved to Staffordshire, before starting a relationship with the now deceased Tranmere - Birkenhead - Wirral born poet Adrian Henri, when he was 39 and she sixteen.

Henri was born in 1932 and moved to Prestatyn in North Wales when he was six, studied at St Asaphs grammar school and took part in the Rhyl arts scene, before going to Durham to study fine art and in 1955, relocating to Preston, Lancashire, for a one year teaching job, where he met his first wife - Joyce Wilson - in a jazz club.

His summer job in Rhyl, brought him into contact with people from the Liverpool scene and he opted to go there, marrying in 1957, two years after Duffy's birth. He had his first exhibitions in 1958 and 59 at the Bluecoat in the city, and he held a variety of jobs, starting as a scenic artist in the Liverpool Playhouse and then teaching jobs in Manchester (1961-4) andLiverpool colleges of art (1964-8).

He and McGough met in 1960 at the Streates coffee bar on May Street Mount Pleasant and the rest is history, as he became part of a trinity of Liverpool poets whose work came to prominence caught in the slipstream of the global phenomena of John Paul George and Ringo.

Everything in Liverpool became cool overnight and half the planets young girls collectively fell in love with their chosen poster boy, four to choose from, and like pop stars now, these crushes as much about vicarious expression of their personalities in the social groups young girls cluster in, as any real affair of the heart.

Their work brought an idiom previously unheard to prominence in the UK as the working classes had their first artistic flowering, but unfortunately, much of it has not stood up to the test of time, and now its inherent weaknesses ioverlooked in the first flowering, glare at us unsophisticated and naff, as only the dated does.

The whole notion of being a working class poet, was a brand new concept, and there being no precedents, a DIY extemporisation, a pose, a mish match of the French Symbolists, obscure verse writers and home grown names all mixed in at the first attempt by men more in tune with chasing women and boozing, than applying themself to any tradition. A jazz riff and make it up as they went along'ness, which time has exposed as weaker than what the cheerleaders of the time blindly loyal and championing it as the birth of some anti-nazi, all inclusive third reich of UK poetry, next school run by and for the prolateriat mass from the anonymous estates of post war Britain and facing a thousand yrs advance on the untested and tried strength of two mop top jazzed up scousers and a woolyback from Presatyn.

And it was to this artist, Duffy decided to set her sixteen year old cap, by all accounts a girl who knew she wanted to be a poet at fifteen, independant, a steely will and as Henri said, appearing fully formed in Liverpool, seeking out her male muse.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Pestford Wives

Now I’ve experienced McCain's daughter at her blogette and seen the photos of the lovely tee shirts, simple designer duds and gee, really cool stuff.

She’s in a car, with a phone, smiling, and it says soo much about how we can all be quick to judge others based not on lipstick and fighting dogs, but on the character of their content, and i realised i was wrong to instinctively judge Sarah as a shallow self centred and hollow hockey mom who Anne Kilkenny, from Super Sars home city of Wassila, Alaska (pop 6-9000), a close fellow mom who says horrid, horrid things about her time as mayor in this vast megatropolis of; what may be only 6000 people, but home to the billion make up artist of make up artists, happy wishes, kisses and straight up canine makeup shops, beauty parlours and not like Michelle, who has been surgically re-sculptured by Barry Manilow's personal magician; in an e mail of blatant lies based on nothing but jealousy and which found it's way to the local rag the Anchorage Daily News .

she is not a true believer in the holy power of God and dutiful Christian who doth not judge on the colour of her dress, but on the content of the blog John’s daughter keeps, which i understand now i have found the power of the Lord our Holy Father, Buddha, Krishna and Allah, who i know God is a little pissed off with, and especially the Russians threatening the security of Sarah’s family with their illegal behaviour going into’s Frankia, right?

Yah, radical offspring, who i know could be a real friend to me and all my friends, and if that Obama just stopped trying to kid us; actually said what he is for, and stop attacking blogettes dad, and Sarah (i think her husband soo much more dishier, don’t you) came up with his own ideas, instead of just running round after John, imitating his strategy, of saving the planet by eradicting the fraudulant spongers in the third world using their new found economic wealth, like with all the overtime they are getting, like all the easy unfair trade deals they do with UN-AMERICAN terrorist groups masquarading as underwear companies, soft porn retail outlets, abortion clinics selling DIY Devil worship kits and using back-engineered bad-alien Grey technoligies to harm AMERICAN business, health care taxes, adding to the welfare budget, lazing around all day, sponging off AMERICA, taking our oil in Russian, being ANTI-AMERICA and taking advantage of US the AMERICAN people, closing our factories, stealing our jobs, AMERICAN jobs, which ppl like John went to Vietnam as a Freedom fighter dropping napalm to clear the drug crops, to protect, fight for fair play, create new energy resources, to harness, protect, spread democracy in places where terrorists had in a stranglehold, using fear and scare tactics, trying to intimidate US, the billions of us American loving peacable ppl, who never seek war, but sure as heck aint afraid of standing up to those who would blatantly seek to spread terror to the very soul of the country i love, the land of the brave, home of the oldest democracy in the history of the universe.

An ancient noble land John died for several times at the hands of Russian and Chinese torturers, but who God brought back to life, to save us from the lunatics threatening our every waking move, following Sarah, looking at her inappropriately, Obama, coming on to her daughter disguised as Obama Bin Laden, hiding in the bat cave, trying to corrupt Bruce Wayne, stealing the first ladies underwear, and with the oil industry and big business in his pocket, covering it all up, Blogette is here exposing the hypocrisy, using her brains, and not her looks, to save AMERICA, to stop the madness of rougue dictatorships, like Venuzala, Amerstam, Germany, France, Sweeden and undermine the democratically elected alien governemnts of Mercury, Saturn, Pluto and Disneyworld, who seeks to undermine the elected government of Zimbabwe and our good friend mister Mugabe, who is stopping the African continent from descending into anarchy.

GOD BLESS Bloggete, please donate what you can to the hugely imporatnt work, help the John McCain save the Moon for US fund.

The Russians as we speak are plotting to seize territorial control of Mars, an American colony our future generations will colonise, build new businesses, hosptitals for our poor and sick, bring new prosperity to our citizens on welfare, give second chances to the disadvantaged, ppl who never got a break under the last Democratic president Obama, who invaded Poland and spent all the federal budget on shoipping for his wife.

Please, please, don’t fall for their slick lies.

While there are some who go to washington for themselves and ask, what can America do for the environent, it takes a brave honest man like John to ask, what can the environment do for US the American ppl, the cleverest, oldest culture to have ever existed, and for this we thank God that his son, John McCain, died for us ten times and walked on water, to break the new water walking speed record, for you, selflessly for US the American people.

And Remeber, a vote for a convicted underwear thief, is a vote for reason and peace.