The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Saturday, April 11, 2020

free verse

poets are like pop stars
the plurality will have just one hit
and that's it

of course there may be a few
Delores O'Riordans, Paul Simons and U2s
Alfred Lord Tennyson was one


but most of us must settle (no disrespect) alas
for being Stephen Tin Tin Duffys and Rene and Renatos
or if we're lucky The Flying Lizards

kilcullen easter

the lambing time
evanescent leaves
provincial poets stitching worn out rhymes
into patch work quilted semaphores of praise
all of these
mist like matting on muddy fields
old men rejoicing in campaniles
all of these
everything that breathes is on its knees
for the coming of the lord
peace

Friday, April 10, 2020

plague journal 3 bye bye mister humble irish pie

Writing ferociously in my kitchen.
Farmer Jones taps on the window.
"Are you alright?" he calls.
Having only lately accepted that there may be a teensy weensy bit of reality to the Corona Virus crisis, I struggle to answer civilly.
"Of couse I'm alright," I growl.
"What are you doing?" quoth he.
"Writing a letter of apology to the Prime Minister," I say scowling.
"He'll enjoy that," sez my visitor who purports to have a vague acquaintanceship with the PM.
"I hope he does."
"Are you embarassed you got it so wrong?"
I looked up.
I'd been thinking about this.
My answer was prepared.
"Not really. It's all a bit like old times for me. Back in the 1980s I stalwartly refused to contribute so much as a penny to Bob Geldoff's heroic Live Aid efforts to feed the starving millions in Africa on the grounds that what he was actually doing was propping up the communist government of Ethiopia who had killed more of their people than the famine ever did and who had in fact caused the famine with their Soviet sponsored dictatorship."
"Yah bad bollix."
"I was one of three people who refused to have anything to do with Live Aid. The other two were a pair of British Bolshevick pop singers who called themselves Tears For Fears. Me and Tears For Fears had both opted out of Geldoff's effort. My motivation for refusing to support Live Aid being as mentioned that Geldoff was propping up the communist party of Ethiopia. Tears For Fears motivation for refusing to support Live Aid was that Geldoff was just a big capitalist. Hilarious no. But we agreed on not supporting him. Although even Tears For Fears eventually relented and helped Geldoff with a follow up charitable effort called Run The World the year after."
Farmer Jones wearies of my anecdotage and departs with a wave, leaving me to my meditations.
I return to my letter.
My face is a study in ruefullness.
How to apologise to Prime Minister Leo Varadkar.
Ah gentle travellers of the internet back in my Revenue Commissioners day, we had a phrase for this type of situation,
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.
We used to say it when we'd hit a citizen with a huge tax bill in order to finance our vast pay rises, extravagant terms and conditions, and ridiculous pension entitlements..
It means:
Perchance even this will one day be pleasant to remember.

Thursday, April 09, 2020

plague journal 2 going postal down in acapulco (again)

Striding purposefully into the death star. (The Post Office.)
The newly installed automatic doors open with a metallick kerschiiiick.
I stand to attention before the girl in the Darth Vader face mask.
I am struggling not to try to be funny.
In my mind's eye I can hear her saying in James Earl Jones' voice:
"I find your disrespect for the Corona Virus most disturbing."
Then she reaches out with those unholy telepathic powers and begins to throttle me.
It's taking her an awful long time.
Like those lightning bolts from the evil emperor in Return Of The Jedi, the telepathic strangulation power isn't all its cracked up to be.
It takes ages to actually kill you.
And those lightning bolts look amazing, but you get hit about fifty times, and you're still going strong, ("Ah no, please your majesty, help, stop, ouch, oh that tickles, ha, ha, please, have mercy. heee heee. oh help, etc etc.") and if you stop laughing long enough to find your light sabre, you're going to make the evil emperor fart those lightning bolts out his ass.
I'm just saying is all.
But I digress
Bored with the spectacle of me imagining myself being strangled by the Darth Vader girl, the manager of the Post Office raps out a la Grand Moff Tarkin (Who he? Peter O'Toole to you Guv. I mean Peter Cushing. Peter O'Toole would have been great in Star Wars. Or in the Post Office for that matter. But Peter Cushing was good at whatever he did.): "Enough! Vader release him."
I drop limply to the floor.
"This is not as good as the opprobrious televisual cartoon South Park parody of the same scene with the baby in it," I gasp.
"Do you want to pay an electricity bill?" the girl asks in real life.
"I do," I manage weakly.

Wednesday, April 08, 2020

plague journal

Two weeks without a television.
That is to say without access to neighbours' televisions.
The same without internet.
A healthy spirtual retreat.
A great mystic clarity has dawned for me.
The great mystic clarity says: "I'm a celebrity get me out of here."
Wandered into the post office this afternoon.
No Darth Vader jokes to the girl in the  face mask.
She doesn't like them.
This virus obviously hits people hardest in their sense of humour.
The other staff members haven't bothered with face masks.
She's the only nice girl in the place.
And obviously she wants to live.
The irony is that the other staff members could probably do with a few face masks.
It wouldn't hurt.
Stopped at a couple of police checkpoints.
"What is the purpose of your journey?"
No jokeypoos about ogling women.
Irish police don't like them.
They don't like my jokes I mean. They're comparatively well disposed towards women.
Listening to the car radio I hear a supposed hospital employee called Ahmed being interviewed by former politician Ivan Yates on a radio station styled Newstalk, owned by white collar criminal Denis O'Brien.
Ahmed is giving Ivan Yates a lecture on how we all must support the government and the police during this time no matter what craziness they perpetrate in the name of fighting the virus.
Ahmed is accusing Ivan Yates and our notoriously supine government financed bankrupt media groups of poking fun at government efforts to contain the outbreak.
In effect Ahmed is accusing Ivan Yates of being me.
Hilarious, no.
Ivan Yates, a former parliamentarian from the liberal left wing, atheistic, abortionist Fine Gael party, normally quite assertive in his manner, seemed suddenly unsure of himself.
I wonder why.
If it had been me, the first question I would have asked Ahmed is what country he orginally came from. Then I would have asked how do the government and police treat the people there.
Then I would have given him a lecture to wit that the Irish did away with thug dictatorship generations ago and we're not going to allow such monstrousness to weasle its way back into our culture again using the Corona Virus as a Trojan horse,
I would have noted that there are always forces in any society tending towards dictatorship and that in recent times the Irish police force had become famously corrupt, the shame of  Europe in fact, under the leadership of Commissioner Martin Callanan and after him under the leadership of Commissioner Noirin O'Sullivan who had both been party to the framing of hero cop Maurice McCabe on trumped up charges of child abuse in order to prevent Maurice McCabe revealing the depths of the endemic police corruption which had so flourished and metastasized under the debased leadership of Callanan and O'Sullivan.
I mean I don't want to go casting no aspoyshuns.
The price of preventing recurrences of police thuggery a la Callanan/O'Sullivan is eternal vigilance.
Ivan Yates listened respectfully as Ahmed trashed his show, his insight and his analysis.
It is as I've said.
You can justify an awful lot of dictatorship in the name of health care.
Or in the name of being polite to immigrants.
People who are afraid to debate with immigrants because they're called Ahmed are in fact deeply disrespecting those immigrants.
On the avenue I met a nurse with whom I had not so long ago disputed the nature of the flu outbreak.
"I was wrong about the Corona virus and you were right," I said.
"Is this an apology."
"This is me saying I was wrong and you were right."
"What changed?"
"Someone I knew got it."