Discontent and the tragedy of poverty
starve our bloody English history
truth as the political tanks, soldier boys
and girls march past peace and hope. A simple
twist of fate and green bullets have masked a ceasefire and
nothing is left but blood and havoc to wreck a longing for
tolerance. See the defiance deep in Phoenix Park, religion
and farce unite while idle, drunk children spray paint the brick
and dear Louis sleeps twenty feet deep.
‘Father Ted is a lovely old bloke but all priests are paedos' and
an Irish tradition that is rich in Yeats, drenched in Bushmills.
The Maze, a legacy of famine, meaning
spuds sands dirty protest and a clean fresh start.
An opportunity for murder at Enniskillen brings retribution
and a commitment to the legitimate suffering of ár fir,
All rights reserved.
I am Anglo/Irish and the bloody awful recent events started me thinking about the days before Daesh. When the IRA struck terror into Londoner's hearts.
'Dear Louis' refers to Lord Mountbatten who was assassinated on August 27th, 1979 by the Irish Republican Army.
ár fir is gaelic for 'our men'