At the end of the day

 There is nothing left to remember
and yet everything is stored forever

The Sun

 Sun will come to earth and that will be that

 earth will be born and the creation
 will start all over again
 sun will come to earth and eat us all up
 in one gigantic gulp

World war three  war on the planet
 omnicide the death of  it all
The death of day of night of sorrow
 and tears the dead of tomorrow

Wow is Mom turned upside down
 is it going to be fast like that
The fire consuming every last
piece of the whole shebang breathe

last evening we were driving north
 on the new island highway
it is raining and dangerous
 slippy hydroplaning oil slick


 the car is airborne and they
are dead or seriously wounded
 lying on the cold pavement with
many strangers around them

last evening the sun became
a brilliant pulsing light bouncing yes
the sun was bouncing in the sky

that darken over even the poor
old tired rainbow colors were faded
washed out
in a dark  dull rain sodden south sky.

 I got of the car to sundance



cars were bombing past me
I was dancing in the sun that was a
 shimmering blue the rest were
running I mean in metal frames

taking their own lives and other
pedal to the metal never mind
that road was oil slicked they were
scared as the rain bounced

 I mean big rain bounced of the road
not one slowed down
fecking brainless twits
who appreciate nothing

not life not death not sky not awakening
not nature not pulse of being

I sundanced in the pouring rain
I danced myself into the very brilliance
Of the sun and I saw  the heart beat of all
creation do you know we live
because of sun water earth and the
everyday breath of creation of God
we are only here for a nano second


THE HEART BEAT OF THE WORLD

Canadains

        Big children most of them polite firm opinionated
        Unforgiving comfortable settled thankful scared
        Always saying sorry an interesting word is that
Sor   So sorry for being at all here guilty for past sins
         What is my connection to you Canada Can I Da
         In Ireland your da is short for daddy father man
         I wonder is that why so many woman die here

        Ireland grew many people and they were exported
        Starved first the original boat people  green mouth
        What else could one eat except the grass growing
         To stave of the great hunger HOLOCAUST hunger
         I am not polite I am not sorry or unforgiving either
         Kanata sparks place to the sky yes a stairway to
         Heaven Canada is a stairway to the great heavens

       It is such a small place really compared to Africa
       A land there used to be more buffalo than people
       Canada is cold icy and minus in temperatures below
       The people live in igloos under the snow healthy yes
        No not healthy nor right nor sorry none of these things

       Enduring sent by missionaries and soldiers with guns
      Pioneers in disguise

Natives

Paul Doran
Capo on first fret
A                 E                 A
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
A                 E                      F#m
For all of our native tonques we’re all natives here
E       F#m             A
Sons of their fathers dream the same dream
E               F#m
The sound of forbidden words becomes a scream
D                  E
Voices in anger, victims of history
F#m       E              A
Plundered and set aside grown fat on swallowed pride
With promises of paradise and gifts of beads and knives
Missionaries and pioneers are soldiers in disguise
Saviours and conquerors they make us wait
The fishers of men they wave their truth like bait
With the touch of a stranger’s hand innocence turns to shame
The spirit that dwelt within now sleeps out in the rain.
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
For all of our native tongues we’re all natives here
The scars of the past are slow to disappear
The cries of the dead are always in our ears
Only the very safe can talk about wrong or right
Of those who are forced to choose some will choose to fight
For all of our languages we can’t communicate

PTSD

Post traumatic stress disorder they call it
I call it a memory jam in the heart core
I mean who can forget it the bomb blast
Legs arms limbs hand  head hands fingers
The smells the sounds the aftermath pain

Like it was yesterday we were in the war
yes deep in the trenches of France dying
Yes we were always dying and dying alone

No one to talk to when the memories come
triggered by loud noises by smell or song
Take these memories that are stuck there
Stuck in my head stuck in my heart now
I can't wait to die for these memories to
Die with me when I can wake into new life

Dam you masters of war your evil evil ones
You who give the orders to kill to starve to
Take the new the fresh the young the sweet
The innocent the bright eyes laughing ones
Turn them into zombies of pain  and suffering
When we cannot grow old in grace and beauty
Always the smell of death stalks us forever on

Like cobwebs hidden in the dark places deep