Veni Vidi Vici, a downward spiral.
Hanging from Anglophilic word for an Anglophilic Lord,
keeled o’er anglicized (scorched) earth.
whispering O’Neill, Clonmel. bellowing.. Cromwell…
A quarter dead: starved and massacred. the remainder
dispossessed. then brawling for 300 years at the behest
of an anglicized messiah. they gave us the work
and took all of its fruits.
We’d have fed ourselves three times over,
but the Empire’s ‘Invisible’ Hand ordained death:
A million stolen breaths, another million left.
“The judgment of God sent the calamity to teach the Irish a lesson.”
Genocide after genocide, famines and depression:
Malicious or complicit, ground into mortar.
Fleeing terror for torment: bring on the ghastly tides.
“Oh, Bridget O’Malley, you’ve left my heart shaken
With a hopeless desolation” I’ll drown my sorrows into void.
The black of Europe arrived, our romanticism channeled into history,
“Trying hard to reach you” \\ “Water is too deep”
EXILED. BEATEN. TORTURED. COLONIZED. EXPLOITED.
MURDERED WITHIN & OUT. Our diaspora was no Irish Goodbye.
Across the Atlantic, the eagle spread for manifest destiny.
Refugees of famine, 200 Irish recognized ivory talons,
John Riley & co. deserted to form the Saint Patrick’s Battalion.
Alongside Spanish micks, San Patricios provided the stiffest resistance.
Imperial hangmen remembered // our martyred ideals prove stronger.
“…if you remain and dare countenance the system of slavery that is
supported there, we will recognize you as Irishmen no longer.”
Spilled into another settler-colonial state,
“White chimpanezees,” green beside the brown and black.
No Irish Need Apply, save for underbidding slave labor,
Mass graves around railroads, disposable bodies inside dams.
Nefarious subjugation boiled riots, dislodged Irish confetti.
\\ Stung by the WASP \\ “My master is a great tyrant,
he treats me like a common Irishman.”
England has never had and never will have any right to rule Ireland,
As with all capitalists, landlords, and bankers – foreign & domestic.
Wolfe Tone despooked each sect – we can’t buy out British command!
James Connolly warred for the freedom of all in a syndicalist republic.
They organized the spark to free the Irish oppressed of every hierarch.
“We cannot conceive of a free Ireland with a subject working class.
We cannot conceive of a subject Ireland with a free working class.”
Green and orange make white.
Like a rainbow capitalism, the Irish assimilated; inheriting poverty
and psychological trauma without a culture to liberate.
Clambering o’er their black counterparts on Penrose stairs
just to maintain the mechanism that slurred them.
A ‘free’ Irish ensnared as subject working class.
If only we’d united to topple our tyrants, formal and phantom.
A landslide election mandated insurrection.
Overwhelmed by republicans, the Brits sicced the Black & Tans.
Cromwell’s returned! scouring the country killing civilians.
They learned to fear the IRA, born is an Irish Free State.
Home Rule: theocratic crony reactionary petty nationalism,
Battering the young, the poor, and each other in civil war.
Authority mars more than the north.
Partition nicked the emerald isle’s independence,
Catholics lacked civil rights in British occupied spoils of war.
Internment for those who resisted, Bloody Sunday for the peaceful.
Various IRA’s tried to bomb oppression away, backed by
nationalists and Irish Americans loyal to a cause, not a people.
Good Friday relegated unity to a vote. Dormant? No,
No war like class war! Ní Síocháin go Saoirse, 26 + 6 = 1
A self-actualized person dropped from the skies‽
I may not be a man, but I’m surely a born-again laddie.
Please drink responsibly, you plastic paddies,
No true Irishman capes for the rulers of those before him.
Let the Irish be Irish again, the Irish they were never allowed to be.
We are the fighting Irish: white genocide, let us be green.
Death to America, Erin Go Bragh!
Tiocfaidh ár lá, our day will come
We’ll induce our despots to spontaneously transform to salmon
Free to be human, all too human, or perhaps more
A red, black, and green desire for solidarity dawns
the hammering harbinger of the twilight of the idols
Shooting S.A.M. missiles at the darkest of skies //
“Our demands most moderate are – We only want the earth!”
Detroit Leprechaun 