The Shame of Ireland

The Shame of Ireland

Anger written on a page

Enchantment shattered,

sense scattered

Ink ravenous with rage hacks and scratches

Till hearts, scythed and asunder,

deaden, stiffen, nerves shriven.

Imagine that! As a child to feel

and breathe such cancer

Tear your insides inside out,

Bone to bat, bat to back and back again.

A grotesque dancer

On a stage where you have no part

except to simply suffer and wait

In hope that all this woe will soon abate

And curtain falls and violence exasperate.

Leaving me alone but lonely

- alive but dead inside - to wait

....and wait for scar blackened heart to revive

And adult squirmers to squirm in hate

To feel what I had felt

Black-strap leather of a belt

Brass-cankered bat across their bones

Meeting the meaning of madness in their moans

And exult at their discomfort

Stare in my face - my face of mirth

Carved and coloured from their owed-dirt

Fashion now their very fruitful hurt

But for what is this hurt worth

If payment is revengeful spurt

And anger boils - still boils inside

My loves and hopes away.... They died.

Views: 76

Comment by Patrick Curtin on May 3, 2021 at 20:13
Powerful words
Comment by jack colleton on May 3, 2021 at 21:38

Awesome prose.  Many of us left can relate.

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