Tag Archives: Morals

Go, the Mass is Upended

Go, the Mass is ended, secret children no more
Evil works uncovered
As it’s now reported to you.

Go, the Mass is ended,Tuam now tell
the world
These lives undone, the time has come
These children harmed no one.

Go, the Mass is ended, secret children no more
We promise your Mammies loved you
You were always stolen from them.

Go, the Mass is ended, evil of the cloth,
You imprisoned light, from them robbed life
Now Justice must be served.

Go, the Mass is ended, hearts break across our land
Give these women courage
Spread the word, we’re coming for you.

Go, the Mass is ended, leave no stone unturned
This day is yours, unearth that world
Institute of fear now burn.

An Peann

In memory of the almost 800 children found in Tuam. My family’s thoughts are with every woman who was imprisoned in a Mother and Baby home in Ireland during those dark times, my heart breaks for you, you did nothing wrong.
You carried life,sadly life was stolen from you. You were wronged by the hands of evil. Thank you Catherine Corless (Local Historian) for revealing the truth.
For the sisters of no mercy, you never nursed the sick to dying, you murdered them with neglect. Your God is waiting for you.

 

Situation Vacant

They sat looking blankly at each other.

Every century the position changed hands.

Tensely they sat around the circular surface.

‘Who’s turn is it?’, said the current keeper?

Silence fell amongst them, then they laughed.

‘ I think it’s time we went down’, said Cultivator.

‘We have wasted enough time watching them kill each other, we planted the seed of democracy thousands of years ago, yet recently it seems to have backfired again.’

Tactile crossed her five legs awkwardly, interrupting with a musical cough. ‘Very well, shall we send down some representatives to wake the Earthlings up?’

The glass room erupted with laughter. The general consensus was to stay out of unknowing planets affairs. Instead a watcher would monitor progress. Each century the situation would become vacant.

A new Keeper was required, yet not one species from any planet was willing to offer their services. Which is why a meeting was called.

Reason from the planet of the Misunderstood stood up offering some perspective.

‘Our people have lived through many debates, we fought arguments with counter arguments. Eventually our people lost their voices, now we communicate through actions. There is great peace in the silence, the new generations are learning to speak again. They speak with peace in their tone. Is it not better to let them fight it out? Learn to build up from the ruins of their mistakes?’

The keeper shook his heads.

‘I’m afraid I see a pattern emerging again. They have not learned from past mistakes. They are building buttons to press, which, I might add, could cause a ripple effect on other young planets. They want to build walls rather then break through barriers of hatred. They let innocent children die, instead of providing refuge. There are some who want to make the world better, they are few.’

Tactile rose and said ‘Let me see if I can affect their thinking, I will fill the vacant situation, I will take the seat of Keeper for one of their years. If I see any shaky hands about to press a button, we will turn off their power, take down their Wi-Fi connections and send down a universal intervention committee.’

‘How do you intend to affect their thinking?’ asked Reason.

‘ I will show them their true selves, every time they see their reflection, they will wince with pain if they cause it. They will feel happiness if they cause joy. They will become what they think. It’s a very hands-on approach but it should help them see who they really are’, said Tactile.

Reason understood Tactile’s thinking, though he feared there may not be many left on Earth after the year was up. ‘ You have the support of our planet’, said Reason. ‘Eventually every species must see themselves for what they have become.’

Tactile began her role as Keeper. She was determined to kick the ball of change into the Earth’s atmosphere with one of her many legs.

No longer was the Situation Vacant.

An Peann

 

Reclaim Ownership

You began in a watery cave of dreams.
A place where you paid no rent.
You were given shelter, nourishment and protection.
As all these gifts were given, you grew from a cell.

Out you came, unknowing.
Without debt, you credited the world with your presence.
You drank the milk of your creator.
You ate when your body was ready.

You wriggled, rolled, crawled then walked.
You ran when your legs gathered speed.
Learning was first mimicked, then taught.
Thinking became realised, then censored.

Rules became laws. Right was not wrong.
You stepped into line, there was a queue.
You followed the crowd, became a pawn.
You believed you were contributing.

You woke up one day, disillusioned.
With all the years of sculpting
YOU REALISE
Society had repossessed your hopes.

You take your awareness to the court.
The Court of Moral Awareness.
You present your case, success is promised.
You tell counsel this:

I began in a watery cave of dreams.
A place where I paid no rent.
I was given shelter, nourishment and protection.
As all these gifts were given, I grew from a cell.

The Judge who presides over Court asks you
‘What are you arguing for?’
You reply, ‘I have come to reclaim ownership.
I have the right to own my thinking.’

On returning from The Chamber of Conscience
The judge straightens his thinking stating
‘I wish more people would come to my court.
The mind is the property of oneself.’

You look the Judge straight in the eye.
The resemblance between you both is uncanny.
You resolve to take full responsibility going forward.
You will never pay dues on your own thinking again.

An Peann

 

A Coat of Vulnerability

I once had the pleasure of hearing Patti Smith perform in London. Only two hundred of us shared a room with her.
I was young and mesmerised.
It was one of those evenings; I banked preciously in my mind.
A night I knew, I wouldn’t forget.

Recently, she was asked to sing at the Nobel Laureate Ceremony, when she was asked to sing the winner hadn’t been announced.
She soon found out Bob Dylan her hero, was the person she would be honouring with song. She decided she would sing Dylan’s ‘A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.’ A beautifully painful piece.

Hard Rain fell as she sang, the words left her.
Accompanied by a full orchestra in the company of dignitaries and royalty, she had to stop.

‘Sorry, can we start over? I’m so nervous?’

Instead of being another star’s falter, it became poetry in motion. The ultimate illustration of how we can all make mistakes. In a cold world, where people are quick to judge and slow to praise or support each other, Patti wore a Coat of Vulnerability. A delicate outfit worn by a beautiful human being.

Patti a hero of mine, honoured her hero Bob Dylan. Her performance was stunning, more splendid by the stumble.
Sometimes words leave us.
Sometimes people leave us.

We can always find our song again, even when we are nervous.

Mistakes are good, they are the lessons that help us find our way again.

Imagine a world where we could, just start over again?
We live in that world.
Patti wore a coat of Vulnerability, she wore it well.

An Peann

Dedicated to my favourite singer in the world Olivia Luc her lovely husband and beautiful family. They have had their own painful song to struggle through recently, together they have strength and love in their song. Well wishes to you all. Xxx

 

The Man of Double Deed

There was a man of double deed,
Who sowed his garden full of seed;

And when the seed began to grow,
It was like a garden full of snow;

And when the snow began to melt,
It was like a ship without a belt;

And when the ship began to sail,
It was like a bird without a tail;

And when the bird began to fly,
It was like an eagle in the sky;

And when the sky began to roar,
It was like a lion at my door;

And when my door began to crack,
It was like a stick across my back;

And when my back began to smart,
It was like a penknife in my heart;

And when my heart began to bleed,

Twas death,

And death,

And death, indeed.

By Anonymous

Read by Jamie Dornan in The Fall.

Happy Halloween Folks..

Where Cold Ghosts Meet

On Grafton Street she was putting the finishing touches to her chalked coloured masterpiece.
She drew love hearts over all the i’s, pretty they were in their painful disguise.

I had seen her work before, on the ground of Henry Street, her colours then washed away by the man in the truck that sweeps.

I never made time to read them, you know how we are sometimes in a rush?

Last night, I stopped.
I stopped, instead of glancing at the wares inside the windows of the Brown Thomas shop.

I stopped, became moved without moving.
Together we read her chalked words.
Her message reminded us how we should never look down on others.
I asked her could I sit down?
Together we shared a space on the cold October ground.

Her Mother gifted her to the State when she was 12.
Pragmatically she explained, it was for her own safety’s sake.

I asked her was she not fostered?
Shaking her head she told me how her Mam still had rights at the time.
Voluntarily she entrusted her into the arms of the state,
with a promise and a hope to take back home some day.

‘Where did you grow up?’ I asked her.
It turned out we we both grew up in Tallaght.
Looking at her face, I felt I could have known her Mother.
She explained that she grew up in Jobstown, I said ‘so did I’.
She looked back at me with shock in her eyes.

She calls herself April.
She is 18 and a half years old.
She grew up running away from various Care Homes, she didn’t like the hostels, she said ‘it’s not safe to sleep on the street.’

‘I have a tent, another couple stay there too, no one comes near us.’ She assured me it was somewhere safe to rest her pretty red head.

She has somewhere to have a shower every day at nine.
She goes to Art classes in a homeless project, to pass away the time.

More than anything she just wants a real home, so she can go back to school.
This young girl has had it hard, but she is nobody’s fool.
She is waiting for aftercare, the social worker closed her case.
Eighteen years old, no longer a care for the State.

April wants to go to Trinity, she reads a lot.
To study history, even be an archaeologist some day.

I told her she was too beautiful for the streets, she said ‘ah, thanks, thanks a lot.’ She really was ever so sweet.

April grew up across the river from where I lived.
The river being a trickle that divides a multitude of lives.

I am sorry for you, I said.
I don’t feel sorry for you.
I am just sorry you have to live this life.

We hugged, longer than we needed to.

April being no fool, is burdened by circumstances.

She is just a young girl who deserves the right to go back to school.

An Peann

I asked April was it okay to write about her, she said it was okay. If you are reading this, stay safe.
You will go to Trinity some day.
Big Hug.xxx