No Nation I Know Of Has A Wholesome Founding Myth

I was not surprised when a short time ago
the town of Tuam was in the news,
for the discovery of 800 odd skeletons
of infants found poorly buried in a cesspit.
Philomena started this thread.
There is a lot more to come out of this old story
of poverty, psuedo-virtue and open neglect yet.
We are presently a mere eight years
before the centenary of the 26 counties
setting themselves free of the British state.
By the time 2022 comes around
we will all be so tired from seeing
'Mother Ireland's' entrials being paraded
around the media that the idea of Celebrating
The Centenary will become repugnant.
But to look on the bright side,
no nation state I know of has a wholesome
founding myth. Ireland is no different.

The Art Of Conversation

I went to see an exhibition of paintings
by the amateur society in the town
where I like to take my holidays.
As I made to leave the ladies manning the mounts
eagerly asked me 'Did you enjoy it?'.
Being tactful I replied 'Oh, these events
are always Curates eggs-good in part'.
As we further engaged I spoke of my experience
of working on my own, painting abstract paintings.

I explained how I did it for my sense of colour
and enjoyment of the moment. 'What I don't get'
I said to the ladies 'Is how as amateurs
you coach each other, or how do you recieve external help?
And how does each of you choose the subjects for your art?'
Some of the subjects chosen were clearly beyond
the skill of the artists who had chosen to paint them.
To finish I said 'But where it looks good on the wall it is fine.'.
I sought to bring some elan to the conversation,
whatever the level of finesse coming from the paintings. 

The Unexpected Vector

is the the one that gives force and aim when both are lacking.

Seperate Worlds

'There is no money in poetry,
but then again
there is no poetry in money either'
-Robert Graves

Looking At French Houses

in bright sunlight today,
I realised that I don't mind
getting older-time improves
the best wrecks.
They merely age better.

The Cinderella Theory Of Homosexuality

My faith in the resurrection
increased recently, when on my radio
for the curious I learned about 'The glass closet'
-one writers metaphor for why the culture
in Britain's highest paid boardrooms
is so completely hetero-sexist.
For myself I realised that my education
was a glass coffin in which I was left
to a dreamless sleep, or left for dead,
or maybe instead to become a restful zombie.
Until a prince awoke me.

Only In Heaven

are other people Heaven too.
Everywhere else we are a Purgatory
for each other to work through-
according to our strengths, some terms
with people are less burdensome than others.
Where we cease to work through others
but insist they work for us we become
their Hell-a loss for them of our own making.