in time's eye

 

The May month burgeoning through the heartland.

Lovely scents drifting from the hedgerows.

New mown grass.

Birdsong.

Cattle lowing.

Lambs.

It is like that splendid Summer which is supposed to have preceded World War One.

A last lingering moment of innocence.

The nights seem heavy to me.

I step into the fields and there is a hush, not the hush of Christmas but a deathlier hush, like some sort of ominous warning written in the night air.

There is a time when even the prophets fall silent.

When it's too late.

the story of my argument with chinese president xi jinping

 

Flicking through the channels on the sexevision.

And lo!

What light through yonder vid screen breaks.

It is the east.

And President Xi Jinping of China is the sun.

Xi is on a visit to France.

He declaims thusly to an appreciative coterie of high diploamts:

"The world is far from being a tranquil place and as a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council, China is calling for a worldwide truce during the Olympic Games."

The noble Heelers is mock stunned.

"But this is marvellous news," I manage finally to a long suffering sheepdog, Jack Russell, budgie and parrot. "What a marvellous moment of humble self awareness by a truly great man. Can it really mean President Xi himself is going to stop murdering and imprisoning Muslim Uyghurs? For a whole Summer? Great heavens I can hardly believe it. They'll be dancing in the streets of Xinkiang Uyghur tonight. Yeah baby, yeah. No more Chinese Communist Party murders before the eyes of the world of the Uyghur nation of Xinkiang. And what great news for Tibet! During the Olympic Games the Chinese will also now apparently pause their seventy year long occupation and copious imprisonments and torture murders of Buddhists there, Ditto for the Chinese Communist Party persecution of Catholics and democracy activists in Hong Kong we must presume. And indeed this must also mean that the Chinese Communist Party will for the first time ever allow free and fair elections in China itself and at least for one Summer, give up their ongoing threat to invade and subjugate Taiwan or indeed any other country whatsoever. Why I can hardly contain my joy. Good old Xi. He's a decent egg after all. Not just a murderous despot. I suppose he'll be releasing the senior members of his own Politbureau whom he, er, disappeared recently, I mean General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party Hu Jintao along with Foreign Minister Qin Gang and Minister of Defence General Li Shangfu and others. Let's face it. You're nobody in China until Xi disappears you. But all that has changed because of the Olympics. Isn't it wonderful? Not a cloud in the sky. No more disappearances eh Xi. And I must remember to ask him to stop murdering unborn babies while he's desisitng from all his other kidnappings, tortures,  violations, repressions and murders. Oh I'm quite beside myself with happiness. Things are finally looking up."

The dogs, parrot and bidgie look sceptical but wisely refrain from comment.

today they said

 

Simon Harris (incoming Prime Minister of Ireland): "Ireland is repulsed (by the actions of Israel in Gaza.)"

James Healy: "Simon Harris does not speak for me. Nor  can he be said by any stretch of the imagination to speak for Ireland, since just 12 percent of the population voted for his party in 2020, our most recent election. In that election his fast evaporating Fine Gael won just 35 seats in a 160 seat parliament, a loss of twelve seats on their previous total, and fully forty percent of the population expressed their opposition at the time to the entire poltical class by not voting at all, He has become Prime Minister this week because the outgoing leader of his party the newly resigned Leo Varadkar fears Fine Gael will be wiped out the next time Ireland  has a vote. Ten of Fine Gael's 35 parliamentarians have announced they will not stand at the next election. I am suggesting that like other posturing showboaters in Irish politics Simon Harris is afraid of Jihadis but sees the Israelis as an easy mark."

the youngest farmer

 

the lambs are in the fields

the youngest farmer rubs hands

chapped like dry leaves

in a life that never ends

you will not find his tale

in any tract of erudition

but in the dull trochaic verses of the bible

is found the course of his living

he stands and does not hear

the echo from Mount Zion

resound through Cnoc An Oirthir

by the shores of Old Kilcullen

and perhaps it's for the best

it would plague him at his rest

eastertide

 

The tough man had recounted to me a few of the sensation scenes from his life.

He obviously wanted me to say something.

My face was Shakespearian grim.

What on earth could I say without wandering into cliches?

I have long laboured under the awareness that people who come to me, even people who hate me, expect me to come out with something good.

It wouldn't matter so much bold readers, only at odd moments, I have the unsettling feeling that the Deity expects the same thing.

I said: "Some of the mystics claim to have seen Jesus. They say he still has the wounds of the crucifixion. He is in glory. He  has conquered death. But he still has the wounds. His wounds are no longer what they were. They are no longer the signs of a murderous violation. They are a sign of his triumph. The evil that led to the infliction of those wounds has been entirely washed away in victory. So yes some of the mystics who claim to have seen him say the risen Christ who is all powerful still has the wounds from his earthly torture. And I'm saying the wounds have been transformed into a part of his glory.  He doesn't have to have them. They are there to tell us something about suffering and the cosmic battle and the true nature of things. My testimony to you is this. You've told me some things. I cannot make those things okay. But I know that no matter what you've suffered if you turn to God your wounds will become a part of your glory."

kilcullen easter

 

the lambing time

evanescent leaves

provincial poets stitching worn out rhymes

into patchwork 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

everybody wants to get into the act

 

A news report informs me that Judge Sheilah Martin of the Supreme Court of Canada has ruled that the term "woman" is inappropriate and should be replaced with the term "person with a vagina."

Later tonight I am visited in my chamber by three ghosts.

The first is the ghost of Barbra Streisand who serenades me soulfully thus:

"I am a person with a vagina in love

And I'd do anything

To get you into my life

And hold you within,

Is that all?

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Over and over again."

When she's gone there is a clumping of bovver boots as John Lennon troops in with a few Archangels who apparantly comprise whatever band he's using now in the afterlife.

He sings with strange high elegaic magnificence:

"Person with a vagina

I must confess

Your love and tenderness

Has truly shown me

The meaning of success

And person with a vagina

I thank you again

For showing me the boy

Inside the man

It must be part

Of some eternal plan

I l-o-o-o-o-ve you

Dodin doo doo doo."

John Lennon and the angels eventually leave.

They are replaced by the ghost of Jim Morrison and a backing group that seems to be composed of Frank Sinatra, Michael Jackson and Prince Rogers Nelson.

Jim Morrison and company caterwaul as follows:

"I got into town about an hour ago.

Ner ner nerdle ner ner nerdle nerdle

Took a look around see which way the wind blow

Ner ner nerdle ner ner nerdle nerdle

With a little girl in a Hollywood bungalow.

Oh she was like a little lady in the city of light

City of light

Ner nern

City of night

LA person with a vagina

Nerdle ner

LA person with a vagina Sunday afternoon

Drive through your suburbs

Into your blues

Into your blues, blues, blues,

Into your blues.

I see your hair is burning

Hills are filled with fire

If they say I never loved you

You know they are a liar.

Druing down your freeways

Midnight alleys roam,

The cops in cars

The topless bars

I've never seen a person with a vagina

So alone

So alone, lone, lone,

So alone.

LA person with a vagina

Nerdle ner

LA person with a vagina

Nerdle Ner

You're my person with a vagina

Nerdle ner."

Then Jim Morrison and friends also departed and I was left alone.

I found the whole experience most quaint.

from the heelers mystical experiences

 

An angel of light appeared beside my bed.

"Are you afraid of death?" quoth he.

"Well duhhhhhh," I replied.