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Poetry Magnum Opus

Love Can Kill


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In this quickening world

of thee and me

I see rather more than thou can see

here in this, in these, in any other,

owing to many driving sickening

thoughts, dropping down behind

blood-clotted thickening fields.


Maybe you know what I propose to say

before any dry words, any earthy clods,

fall thickly into the ruts and runnels

of a clear and click-stop mind,

composed, as it may be, of paths and tunnels,

richly averse to any hint of opposition,

and for this, Sir, I fling a curse!


Life is not run by proper people

as I remember my grandmama saying,

in the year the first James died.

And it was then I was down in Wicklow

as unreasonable Irish rebels

fired away like billy-o

with their bought or stolen muskets

as we lay to ground in the tusky grass

and the nettles above us got shot to shreds,

and it was all rather exciting. They lost,

as usual, and the prisoners were hung

with great shouts from the crowd, a simple

repeat of the pattern.


Years later, as I was being tortured

in the Ministry of Love,

I recalled all these things, said

Pull ahead on the oars, goddam you!

You cannot die, cannot disappear,

as long as someone, somewhere





Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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I enjoyed the rhythm and musicality of the piece aside from its retro tone.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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tone, style, language, sense of time period.


I like it all, nicely done.


"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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