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Poetry Magnum Opus

Insomnia, Illusions and Ghosts


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My index finger touched a cherished third eye,

and an old lodge hall appeared.

With gas fires glowing down from the ceiling

and shadows, that filtered through doors

breathing in another air,

where all who gathered, listened and were heard.


And Finbar played his Irish pipes: "Roisin Dubh."

But paused it in the middle

to insert a jig, "The Wedding," before

reverting back to that haunting

patriotic melody,

which rendered him emotionally drained.


A procession of performers came and went,

all whom I remember well.

And my long dead friend, whose fading eyes were

on the way to leaving him blind;

stood and peered, as though gazing

at some far horizon, and sang alone--


"Did you ever see a wild goose sailing o'er the ocean?"

And every last one of them

responded with gusto, "Ranzo---Ranzo--

weigh--heigh..." And their unity rang

out from a critical past

to the mind-- which knows no censor.

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David W. Parsley

A paen to friendship, mortality, and treasured sight. Welcome back, Benjamin. This one brings the chill of the world but the flame and the music beat the inextinguishable heart to face it.


- Dave

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:-8) nice.


"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."


"I don't believe you."


"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker


"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough


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Frank E Gibbard

Fascinating depiction of your projected mise en scene even unaccessible as it may be being very specific of the personal sense of place and impedimenta I would love to have more knowledge of honestly. Nonetheless I compliment writing of it. Frank

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During the late '60s and through the 70's many controversial events coincided with the great folk song revival. Organized clubs provided a conduit and platform (sometimes underground) for people to air their views through traditional and contemporary song. The musical allegory in Finbar's tunes for example represented the re-unification of the Irish states. Many of the clubs no longer exist, although folk music festivals still attract a great many talented and free thinking people. Forty plus years on now. Some became famous whilst others faded away or live at whatever level they found comfortable. Some just died...the memories did not. Benjamin.

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