Thursday, 5 May 2016

JACOB MCARTHUR MOONEY'S LAND

SOME ANTHOLOGIES WEAR THEIR POETICS OPENLY ON THEIR JACKETS

Canada has so many poets it is hard to keep track, due to an impressive arts council funding regime that, at one point saw a census reveal 12,000 living poets with books out from small and larger presses.

Much like in the UK or the US, but perhaps even more notably, every small town, every large city, every province, has a laureate poet. It is therefore impossible to anthologise them all - but when in 2010 Evan Jones and I put out an anthology of Modern Canadian Poets for Carcanet, the 40 or so poets we included were all out of print or unknown in the UK, except for about three. Today, in the UK, for instance, there are about five contemporary Canadian poets in print.

Back in 2010, a young Toronto-based poet, with a large press behind him, with the wonderful name Jacob McArthur Mooney, attacked (there is no other word) this anthology, as if it had been the baseball bat that had clubbed his parents to death. He stomped all over it, and suggested it was basically a fraudulent hoax - because a few poets were not included he might have expected; in point of fact there were about 11,960 poets missing, but hey....

I have not forgotten this, because a year or two before, I had written a very glowing review of his debut for Canada's leading paper, The Globe and Mail - which is Canada's New York Times.  I did not expect any favours from this young fellow, but I hadn't counted on a strange willingness to tear off the kid gloves and kick a friendly critic in the shins, then cut his head off. But Canada has a thing with young thug-critics making a name for themselves by arm-wrestling in bars. Figuratively. Sort of.

I only mention this now because our main thesis of selection for this book he reviled was an internationalism moving beyond parochial Canadian concerns (landscape, especially).

Anyway the other day Mr Mooney's new anthology arrived from Toronto, called BEST CANADIAN POETRY 2015 (IN ENGLISH) - caps mine but hey again - and I was in this two times in its brief life so am pleased but hey again (thrice).... and can you guess what Mr Mooney's main thesis is?

We must move to a "post-Canadian" kind of poetry.... which, yes, you guessed it... is exemplified by the sort of complex, smart international poetry written by A.F. Moritz (who we highlighted in our anthology).

So anyway, this goes to confirm what Evan and I felt then - Canadian poetry remains behind the times, parochial, backwards, and mired in local tribal squabbles of little global import. Want to wrestle with me Jacob?

Oh, his third book is out soon, and I assume will be quite good.

GOOD TRICK: THE NEW CHEAP TRICK ALBUM IS THEIR BEST IN DECADES

AMERICAN RAWK GAWD

The American New Wave moment had some weird and off-genre (power po, and indie-rock) bands in it - all great in their own ways - think Devo, The Cars, The B-52s, Talking Heads, Blondie, Cheap Trick, The Ramones, and even ZZ Top - curated by an eclectic and hungry MTV that could make Huey Lewis appear avant-garde at first.

Meanwhile, try and name a truly great American rock band to rival AC/DC, The Who, Led Zep, The Beatles, The Stones, T-Rex, ELO, - The Doors? Foreigner? The Stooges? The Eagles? Fleetwood Mac? Tom Petty's lads? The Beach Boys? Guns 'N Roses? Aerosmith? Glass Tiger? Rush? (the last two Canadian) - The Band (last three). The Doors, and The Beach Boys, and Stooges, for sure, but hardly in the same league, really, as The Beatles or The Stones.  Which is where Cheap Trick come in.

Improbably, these late 70s power pop oddballs (most famous for 'Dream Police' and 'The Flame' - quintessential high-school dance fixtures) have just recently been accepted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame - improbably because it seems they should have been there sooner (if at all, depending on your tastes).

Their new LP - apparently their 17th (I know no one who owns the last 12 or more, do you?) - is a joy.  Written and performed by all members except the reviled ex-drummer, each man in his 60s save for the new drummer who is one of the member's sons, it is a triumph of energy and nervy reckless continuity.

Firstly, the sound is hard power pop - think The Who fused with ELO and AC/DC - with little New Wave flourishes (a bit of The Stranglers and some Echo and the Bunnymen, faintly). Mostly, it sounds like a more melodious, slightly less stupid and aggressive AC/DC - but with the same template of women, fun, and some vague social commentary.

The album is pure and classic in its style - it is so well-made, so well-performed, with beautiful vocals, and 11 songs of equal effectiveness - it is astonishing it is not from their late 70s heyday.  40 years ago this would have been one of the great rock LPs of the year.And, in its preposterous, fun and OTT way, it is one of the best of 2016, certainly.  A perfect BBQ playlist all of its own.  Welcome back guys! Your 'Blood Red Lips' is especially terrific.

TRUMP TRIUMPHANT

THE MOST TERRIFYING BOOK OF 2016
Rush Limbaugh - the John The Baptist for the current American Idiocy - predicts he will win the Presidency in 2016. He himself has beaten off 17 of the most powerful, well-funded, conservative, ruthless, and intelligent Republicans ever arranged against one man. He is a funny, canny, super-rich, fearless, and rude man of uncommon boldness. Here comes Donald Trump - by some measure the most narcissistic "textbook" megalomaniac to run for this modern office - but also the most populist (if not popular).

Nixon did not like lots of people we presume, but he managed to get some of them to vote for him - Trump has never met a group he could not offend. His default position is satirical invective with slap in the face disregard for ceremony. A Trump presidency would be a revolt such as we last saw in America when they chucked out the King - so they do have form. Americans have a capacity for innovation, daring, surprise, and stupidity second-to-few, as an electorate (they voted for Reagan and Nixon) but they can also elect Obamas and Lincolns. The best British book on Trump is by Oliver Jones, and is now out from Eyewear (cover above).

It is witty, smart and cutting. But it makes a good point - Trump is not just a Game of Thrones pantomime villain.  He is superbly gifted at surfing on what the media wants. He is the media gift that keeps on giving, so like a radioactive Japanese monster, his enemy's attacks actually do make him stronger. This is because he is all about being the biggest brand, and big brands are talked about, period. He is news as it is made, for its own sake.

So he will be hard to beat. His poll numbers see him down 13% - a hardly difficult gap to vault since the race has barely begun. Hillary Clinton is brilliant, ambitious, and hard-working - but she has a history with Bill and emails that make some people worry about her; and she is the comparative establishment candidate now. She may be progressive, but Trump is Batshit Radical - the nihilist would vote for Trump - his theme song for the campaign trail may well be 'Cities In Dust' - he promises to drop atomic bombs and kick Chinese butt.  He has stolen the Putin playbook, and offers the strongest pro-America stance since Teddy Roosevelt. He wants to speak loudly and carry the biggest, best stick ever.

So, I think the contest will be harrowingly close.  It may well bring out the most voters ever.  Obama got out a lot of young people to change history, but this election will bring people out simply to save the world - or change it. Trump would be about wars and walls - trade wars, wars with ISIS, and maybe wars with others (including in Europe). Seemingly unafraid, he is Hyper-Reagan.

Hillary may be too decent to beat this megalith. Or she may appear so reasonable and sane, she may prevail. But if the riled people want a Krazy Klown Posse to shake things up, the Joker has arrived to smash the old guard in one fell swoop.  Stay tuned.

HOLDING NOSES, VOTING FOR A MAYOR

EYEWEAR'S CANDIDATE FAVOURS TAXATION OF ANYONE WHO DOES NOT READ POETRY
London may think of itself as the world's most important, powerful city - though New York, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo and several cities in China or India might say otherwise - but is surely top three, in terms of significance. So its mayoral elections matter - and they are today.

Some of the choices offered are colourful and absurd - there is a candidate whose platform is all about how marijuana is less harmful than alcohol, and a Polish prince who wants to fight a duel with Nigel Farage - and there are worthy candidates for parties like the Greens who won't win but maybe should - and then again the two front-runners.

Eyewear, the blog reminds you to vote today, and responsibly.  You may have to hold your nose if you go with either of the main candidates - both their parties have lately seemed to play unwelcome race cards - but one of the candidates was born poor and stands for a very diverse platform - and the other is one of the richest men in the city and represents a party of the satisfied elites.

Democracy is not always best stewarded by the Sharpes of this world, but some high-born seats are just too comfortable to truly afford a view of ground realities.

Marijuana, anyone?





BOURNE AGAIN

HE HAS FORGOTTEN WHY HE EVER LEFT THE FRANCHISE IN THE FIRST PLACE
There have been few singular cultural pleasures as notable as the trilogy of Bourne films starring Matt Damon, each featuring Moby's solemn yet oddly upbeat 'Extreme Ways' theme song ("I would stand in line for this"). Their gritty action, cinema realism, and downbeat subjects made Bond seem like a cartoon, and changed that franchise (as well as influencing the new Batman trilogy).

Greengrass, the director, turned out to be an action genius, easily the best of his generation. Then we had that fourth unwelcome verstigial spin-off, with another Bournelike character, and though it had its moments, we all missed Jason.

Jason is back again this summer, with his pumped-up guns and lost-boy glare. Also back is the chaos that ensues when he brings the conflict up close and personal to the shadowy espionage forces ranged against him. Aptly, he is now, in the trailer, called worse than Snowden - a sign his Bourne brawn is being supplemented by more than a special injection - he has smarts and intelligence (not always the same thing).

Truth be told, the Bourne films are simply the Day of the Jackal fused with Three Days of the Condor, in terms of genre style and cold-blooded relentlessness, but they are the best of commercial Hollywood this century, and the 5th will make the fist of greatness complete.

Sunday, 1 May 2016

WE OWE ISABEL GALLEYMORE MONEY

THIS YOUNG POET FORGOT TO ENTER THE COMPETITION AND IS NOW UPSET WITH HIMSELF


Yes, that is correct.

The UK poet Isabel Galleymore is owed £110 for having written an Eyewear-themed poem for our 11th anniversary year, which is coming to an end June 2016, when we turn 12 as a blog... and, she won it because her poem was judged to be the best, of a very witty and clever bunch of poems that were entered, by poets far and wide. Poets short-sighted and with perfect vision -

So anyway, yes, here we are... her winning poem will be posted this week!

Her cheque will be posted in the mail....

And we will have finally celebrated our 11th year in style... 11 months or so late.

EYEWEAR HAS BEEN SABOTAGED!


The British sense of irony sees SJ Fowler's hugely successful series of poetry events titled ENEMIES (as projects), and one of the most indie and significant small press/poetry scene awards in the UK is called THE SABOTEUR AWARDS.

Eyewear should perhaps have called itself SPYWARE or something...

Anyway, guess what, good luck we have been shortlisted for not one but count them two prizes!

Best Pamphlet and Most Innovative Publisher, 2016.

Not bad for a micro indie press started in 2012....

So, anyway, this is a voting situation - please go here and check out all the nominees, and then, in the sanctity of your privacy, do the right thing, and vote as you will.

http://sabotagereviews.com/2016/05/01/the-shortlist-for-the-saboteur-awards-2016/

We are chuffed.  Or is that LeChiffred?

MAY DAY!

MAY DAY FOR SOME IS INCOMPLETE WITHOUT TOBACCO, ALCOHOL AND PROBABLY FIREARMS

Did you Maypole dance today in an English custom going back to at least the time of The Wicker Man?

No?

There is always next year.

Today marked the day that the Hollywood ending promised for LCFC did not quite happen - but they played one of the most tense and watched matches of the season against a stronger-than-expected Manchester Utd side, perhaps not wanting a triumphant Foxes on their hallowed ground.  Here is hoping Leicester still becomes the 5,000-1 winners.  The 20 or so remaining bets on them to win the season, none higher than £20, could yield as much as a hundred thousand quid in a few weeks time.  Not bad work, backing utter underdogs.

While Eyewear has been away, lots has happened - we were in LA for AWP, London for the LBF, and recently had a great review for Mel Pryor in the latest Poetry Review, and another for A Public Woman by Benno Barnard, in a special collection of writings on Dutch-language writing.

Excitingly, our Squint series has brought out editions on Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump, and one on Hillary Clinton is on the way.  Squints have also focussed recently on Corbyn and Adele.

We have a plethora of competitons running - the Sexton judged by Don Share for best American collection (unpublished), and the Hume, for best unpublished younger British poetry book, judged by Mark Ford.... and our 2017 Best British and Irish poets anthology is being judged by Luke Kennard, following the recent 2016 edition edited by Kelly Davio.

More to announce soon, but the best news of all, of late, is that we have been shortlisted for the coveted Saboteur Awards (thank you).  More in next post.

And yes, Ken Livingstone was deeply wrong to say what he said.  Meanwhile, Zac Goldsmith's terror-emphasis when mentioning his Muslim mayoralty campaign rival is also troubling.  Put away the race cards please. We're British.

Sunday, 17 April 2016

THE FIRST QUARTER: 2016'S TOP SONGS IN MID-APRIL

MUSIC MAKES THE WHEELS TURN
2016 has already been noted as a bit of a Shit Show, in terms of the many beloved musical geniuses who have upped and died. In that way, the year has posted a glum moratorium on joyful appreciation of its bounty. However, every wicked year yields great art and entertainment - the depths of WWII giving us Citizen Kane and Casablanca, for instance, as well as The Four Quartets. It is not obscene to note beauty, skill and accomplishment even amidst the rubble and collapse; it may even be important to do so - to dance during the Blitz. The human spirit needs its creative outlets to seek humanity in the inhumanity and the loss, which is legion.

Looked at this way, 2016 is a great year, for music, so far.  In an astonishing array, the year's releases so far include career bests from PJ Harvey, David Bowie, Kanye West, and noteworthy new songs from Turin Brakes, DIIV, The Pet Shop Boys, Weezer, Iggy Pop, Bob Dylan, Primal Scream, Suede, Kylie, The Crookes, Tindersticks, Gwen Stefani, to name just a few that we played a lot of, and enjoyed. Even Kendrick Lamar's demos were a revelation a few weeks ago.

Given how years alternate appearances of artists (not everyone can drop a new record every year) we can still acknowledge that with 75% of the year still to come this is amazing. Wading through Eyewear's constantly shifting list of required listening, the earworms that keep on giving, we provide 16 songs that we can only assume will still be vital to our souls and hearts and minds at year's end:

1. David Bowie - 'Blackstar'
Had Bowie not died soon after release, this would still be a track of the year, but the uncanny timing and purposeful shaping of this near-posthumous artwork makes it of culturally-historic value, as well. At the centre of it all, then, is this canonical single, haunting, weird, and scary.

2. PJ Harvey - 'The Wheel'
PJ Harvey is now at near-Bowie status in our books. Artful, supremely questing, intelligent, morally indignant, and matching her vision with integrity of sound and purpose, her new protest album has about six songs as good as any ever written by a British musician. It is an astonishing LP, and this single, while tied with a few others in our affections, perfectly captures the intent of the whole: a collage of reporter's quotes and info-bytes, the contrast between the jaunty soul rock and the awful cruelty of the imagery establishes a rupture in our ability to comprehend the world picture being presented, and subverted.  The song drips with an irony as strong as that of Kubrick's - man is insane and murderous, but art can be moral.

3. Violent Femmes - 'Holy Ghost'
The Femmes were last at their disruptive, skittering, ramshackle, disruptive best about 30 years ago, which is why this fun, angry, spiritual anthem about loss of God and finding something else, maybe, in the search, smashes it.  Wonderful return.

4. Yeasayer - 'I Am Chemistry'
Not since OMD crafted a pop song out of the atomic destruction of Japanese cities has an indie band so cleverly fused toxicity with lyric charms. Singing as if Sarin and other nerve gasses and chemical weapons were the source of the song is bizarre, but somehow becomes deeply moving, and beautiful, as if Sir George Martin had stumbled across an anarchist's cookbook while high on LSD.

5. Paul Simon - 'Wristband'
No one needs another Simon song as catchy as 'You Can Call Me Al' and the odds one would appear at this stage of his career, clearly in gentle decline, is astonishing. So, here it is, as witty, political, light of feet, and upbeat as anything from Graceland - a late grace note from a genius.

6. Hannah Lou Clark - 'It's Your Love'
Who is she? Who cares? She has emerged with a driving pop song of such lo-fi cheek and quality, it soars above any playlist with thrumming excitement. Stage-fright, depression, angst, all defeated by, yes, love. Delightful epiphany of bubble-gum joy.

7. Kanye West - 'Ultralight Beam'
As ambitious as The Beatles and The Beach Boys, as much an artist as any of the Hip Hop giants have been, West is loved and hated as only leading figures in their art forms tend to be. This, his 'God dream' - is a weird soundscape becoming a call-and-response classic. The finest deconstructed gospel song ever written?

8. Animal Collective - 'FloriDada'
Capable of creating some of the most vital and sonically complex pop indie music of the new century, here the AC are, at the 100th anniversary of the Dada movement's Zurich inception, comically and zanily singing in quasi-vaudeville form of, yes, Florida, desire, life and art. As if The Marx Brothers had moved to Brooklyn to forge a new kind of musical comedy, this is thrillingly upbeat.  Pure ecstasy of inventive harmonies and nonsense.

9. All Saints - 'One Strike'
Who knew All Saints would one day sound classic? This machine-tooled resurrection of a style and POV about two decades from its first moment, arrives with such state-of-the-art expertise, it is marvellous to experience.  A pure pop hit of the first rank, with effective lyrics and gorgeous vocals. A palpable hit.

10. Rick Astley - 'Keep Singing'
Once a figure-of-fun meme, and before that an impossibly-gifted cute young man who in the late 80s was a world star for a few hits before suddenly retiring at 27, Astley is an icon the years had dusted over. Incredibly, he now returns, at 50, with a soaring Northern Soul style gospel song of such unabashed sentiment, it seems hard to swallow. This will either be a huge hit or a kitsch damp squib. Either way only a hard heart can ignore the power of this inspiring return.

11. Sia - 'Cheap Thrills'
The shy hit-maker has a chilling skill to establish instantly engaging dance moments, again and again. We could not resist, and were once again won over.  Thrilled, as always.

12. The Jezabels - 'Pleasure Drive'
The most clever song title ever? A song about the pleasure of pleasure, this usually-soaring-shimmer U2-meets-Simple Minds Oz-outfit headed by a woman with a voice as close to Karen O as law allows, have gone in a new direction, to shock just a bit, before retracting their nympho intent with the usual stadium high. It is still potent enticement.

13. M. Ward - 'Confession'
Droll, power pop Americana with a warped soul and a steadfast guitar does not have many finer progenitors than West Coast bard M. Ward - and here comes the man with his catchiest, cleverest song ever, sounding as if The Go-Betweens, Gene Pitney, and Lloyd Cole had merged in a sultry retro Twin Peaks episode never filmed; twang bam thank you, M.

14. Sunflower Bean - 'Easier Said'
Speaking of jangling guitars and indie nous, here comes highly-touted Sunflower Bean, with a song The Smiths could have killed for. Well, maybe not, but The Cranberries could probably sue. Great sunlit summer indie dream pop.

15. DMA's - 'Too Soon'
Talking of retro lawsuits, I am sure the Oasis brothers are lawyering up. This lad-sound so uncannily conjures the 90s of Britpop's heyday I half-expected T. Blair to appear contra D. Cameron at PM's Questions after hearing this time-warp bombastic number. Thing is, they are as good as Oasis, guys, and House of Love, the whole bunch of baggy wide-boys from 20 years ago. Half Mad-chester, half mad as a fox, they are surely the new group of the summer in the UK.

16. Postiljonen - 'Go!'
Imagine synth pop at its giddiest, imagine Madonna at her most upbeat, imagine dream pop at its most swooning, imagine a Nordic sheen to rival Robyn, imagine a song so up it is like injecting sugar while kissing Britney, and you have some idea of what this is like, complete with 'Purple Rain' noodlings - the quintessence of the 80s, the apogee of the retro-vibe currently sweeping the dance-floors. 'Remember our souls are burning too'.

So, the top 16 of 2016, so far.  But we loved more new tracks, from Savages, MOTHXR, Hinds, Mystery Jets, RAT BOY, Wild Belle, Wild Nothing, VANT, Eagulls, Matt Corby, Fat White Family, and love them still. Enjoy these - all on Spotify.
I LOVE THE MUSIC THAT EYEWEAR RECOMMENDS TO ME, MUCH MORE THAN THESE GIANT GLASSES I CANNOT FIT ONTO MY FACE, WHICH FLOAT BESIDE ME ALL THE TIME LIKE A GHOSTLY REMINDER OF MY NEED TO BUY MORE EYEWEAR BOOKS
 

Friday, 1 April 2016

EYEWEAR WILL BE GREAT AGAIN


OUR FOUNDER IS A VERY LIKEABLE AND SMART GUY WHO IS VERY RICH

Eyewear Publishing Ltd is excited TO ANNOUNCE that we love literary genius and  money-making potential, in authors. Not just in that order. Not just eyeglass-wearing panty-waist liberal progressive poet types from Chicago either.

WE DO BIG BOOKS FOR PEOPLE THAT LIKE SUCCESS. BOTTOM LINE.

We are ethical, ALSO. We do good in books, we are GOOD BOOK DOERS.

PLUS, we plan to MAKE BOOKS GREAT AGAIN IN 2016!

EVEN ON THE ROAD WE ARE CAPABLE OF MAKING DEALS THAT MAKE MONEY, FAST!
 
 We plan to roll out a money-making literary work of genius weekly this year and next, in MODEL T FORD fashion, and will sell millions of books, because we have read THE ART OF THE DEAL.

We are not bespectacled dummies. We are bespectacled smart people.

BOOKS ARE THE NEW GUNS. Everyone should carry one.
 
EYEWEAR WILL BE GREATER THAN LONDON SOON.

LOOK OUT WORLD, HERE EYEWEAR COMES!

EYEWEAR MAKES BIG SMART DEALS EVERYWHERE


Saturday, 26 March 2016

POEM BY TODD SWIFT, EASTER SATURDAY

MYSTERIUM PASCHALE

It happens like this
in writing, a man
is brought to a hill to be raised
to die in spring

so that God's will
be done. Never kill alone,
use Romans when you can,
and let care down by a kiss.

I am born in words
and reborn reading; when the ink
from the black well spills.
These trees here are torn

between bliss and dismay, it is confusing
how the world is making progress
even as it staggers back
on one bleakest Saturday;

a chasm opens like a speech
the monster of all creation makes
but that is a volcanic belch
instead; God is dead to live,

the twisting snakery of organised
deception at the tricked hinge
of Easter, where the magic
is love's risk of everything.

But fixed. Stacked. A house
that knows its odds. I never complain
that Christ rises on the Sunday,
it is good theatre and good news.

It is truce with warring nature;
why spar with Caesar forever?
The people who said no
become those who say yes, later.

The mob is just indifferent
ignorance; it gets confused,
as I say, when sung or spoken;
it is a story, not a truth.

It is Truth, happening all at once
and everywhere like a storm
so big it lifts a hemisphere.
I forgive those who hissed and nailed.

Our God was impaled, he suffered
so that God knows what we do
when we die.  We are the pain
he endured, unified in injustice.

You ask why discomforts must occur
to be experienced even by God?
A child without water, a desert hot
as coals and no wheat or river there:

the world was made in confusion,
this is certain, it is particularly
creative and dense, and packed
with motion and processions;

never reverses; flows, and alters,
as do minds, and souls. It occurs,
the world, as does a work of art;
it has, even, a sort of heart.

And so, this cannot be stopped,
as one stops a clock to change time.
That would not be freedom, only artifice;
we would be golden statues

in a pearl garden under a jade sky.
No movement and no chance to change
or learn. Dying here is what change
makes happen as its form.

The wind dices for the skein of things
that cannot be rent apart, whole;
Ice in the heart of the law
did not even thaw for Jesus.

We have one weather for our God,
one sky, one cruel domain,
it is the same, it is the one that saw
our tender Lord both fall and fly.

BY TODD SWIFT
EASTER SATURDAY, 2016

Thursday, 17 March 2016

POEM FOR ST PATRICK'S DAY BY COLIN DARDIS


Eyewear, the blog  is pleased to feature a new poem by Irish poet Colin Dardis, who appears in the Best New British and Irish Poets 2016 anthology. The poem was commissioned for, and broadcast on, Sky One's What's Up TV last month. This is quite the St Patrick's Day today, in terms of its echoes and shadows, as the controiversial (to some) centernary of the Easter Rising approaches.


I Have Looked For Inspiration

I have looked for inspiration
in all these streets:
some now forgotten by man,
only recalled by the dust and the dead;
others set on the possibility

of the here and the now.


I have looked for the unmarked grave
and stood at the memorials,
touched shoulders
with both the grieving and the fallen.
I have observed the minute’s silence
and cried out in celebration
when the guns were laid down.


I have walked the roads of Omagh,
of Kingsmill, Greysteel and Enniskillen,
tramped the dirt down in Belfast,
Derry, Londonderry, Maiden City,
and in everywhere, found a future
that longs to be free of its past.


I have looked to the faces of strangers
claiming one side of the road their own,
then shook hands with those brave enough
to cross over and defy a generation’s fear,
to age together and remove

the mote from each other’s eye,
free to weep and see again

in the new light of forgiveness.


I have seen my people be held back
by the talons of identity,
by labels of name and school and townland
that they could not control,
then be embraced by those

who dared not to care,
who only want to know the person
and not the percentage they fall within.
I have looked over the peace walls
and found the same families
in the same houses,
too busy surviving
to worry about who is on the other side.



I have seen wastelands reclaimed as skate parks,
a sunken ship raised up and made into a conqueror,
the slogans of hate painted over by artists
who only want to tell you how great it is
to be here and alive today.


We have been measured by kerbstone
and telegraph pole for too long now,
pinpoints in our great country of distance,
where a land can be void of landmark,
where there is uncaged air, open billows of peace,

where words may be sifted and stored
and history transformed

in the furnace of tolerance and compassion
to award the outsider

with a tale worth retelling.
 
 
copyright 2016 the author.