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Oisín Breen

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Cherub Cuts
by Oisín Breen

Saturday, November 01, 2003

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Recent poems by Oisín Breen
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           >> View all 80

Old fool me stood wisely cutting back the hyacinth


                                             waiting for the visitor from yellow springs.


I heard the wind then,


             was wise to it all;


             the drooping leaves turning heads


                              to fawn cherub days resting at their ends


neat by the stars


with unspoken words.


Once I cried into my tea leaves for friends passed quickly by,


                                                                                faster than I knew.


When younger, argued my case formally under treacle dawn,


                                                                         to anyone who listened,


                                                                         rabbits, squirrels, the wind.


             And I raved over theatrics’ punished voice,


                        how it suckled us from teat,


                                                                        played the mind,


                                                                        the cherub lamb.


After, I would leave tired bungalow,


              step down three steps –


                                                         and laugh. –


           I was not tied in red shirts or bootlaces knotted like daisies.


           - was not wearing surgery corrected smile,


always half cocked ready to fire –


without wrinkles –


the greatest false leer.


           - heard not vultures taming man with silver tongue


           - longed only for pure light,


                                                for warmth.


 


Even then,


                          played stud poker,


                          against spies,


                          no cards in my deck,


                          they had chicken wire claws –


                          held control over nightmare’s cartoon virtue –


                          only were sane as man is become beast,


                                   beast making it,


                                             succeeding in drear,


                                                                       with eyes forever staring on.


 


2


I knew my brother gone,


                          my sister,


                          mother,


                          father,


                          friends,


                                       gone!


The machine knew,


                                  I’d live alone smiling,


                                                          a clown


                                                              receiving clocks from father time


                                                                                while he weeps


BECAUSE ALL MUST END ON THE DOORSTEP.


 


I knew I’d live alone smiling,


                                                 a clown


                                                 wise.


 


MORTALITY WAS STARVING.


 


Found myself rested in centre of drear praying


                                                                    earth take me,


                                                                    listening to voices same,


                                                                                             over, over,


                                                                                        and laughing.


 


ELEPHANTS KNOCKED THE PALACE


                                                                      down!


Lips paraded


                        a way everywhere,


                                    wished immortality,


                                                      to breath nonsense,


                                                      spit earaches at enemies,


                                                      and have no enemies but dog tired time.


 


Sat near centuries,


                                      who were whole


                                      on fictional barstools,


                                      were contrived in centre


                                                                      of drear


                                                                             the architect.


             Sat under same light,


                                      solitary bulb worn,


                                                          reused,


                                                                      on arrival.


 


Loudspeakers delivered popular litany prayer:


                          Volcano


                          Volcano


                          Volcano –


                                             which in later days came: -


                          Volcano volcano volcano drum snare me,


                                                                      burn me,


                                                                      feed me


                                                                             success,


                                                                             inferno.


 


Drear, my home for years


                                            - tied up in fantasy sales,


                                                                         success,


                                                   polluted possibility –


                                               taught me volcano’s weariness,


                                                                  a plastic pastiche,


                                                                  waiting,


                                                                  since birth,


                                                                                     for departure.


                                             taught volcano’s agony years


                                                                  of searching


                                                                  platform 12 –


                                                                  choosing,


                                                                  which locomotive will end this –


                                                                                                  creating,


                                                                                                  despising,


                                                                                                  the similar,


                                                                                                  the sunflower.


 


Jumped backwards to drear,


               learned volcano –


               am ashamed,


               once prayed volcano   


                                      volcano


                                      volcano drum,


                                                               snare me.


Jumped with volcano,


             was with in drear,


                                      in jungle.


             was with and fought volcano


                                             under tender dawn light.


 


3


Starved in drear!


Ahead,


             zeppelin waiting on platform 12!


             escape!


             laughter at escape!


             could accept this locomotive’s


                                                          speed!


                                             ride it,


                                                          faster,


                                                          on, on,


                                                          until ahead


                                                                              A pinprick chance.


 am ashamed!


                          worried near zeppelin,


                                                 which was a pinprick,


                                                 that was only a wave.


                          thought zeppelin a great wave splashing


                                                            salt wisdom –


                                            crashing salmon knowledge


                                                                           over fires,


                                                                               cursing eat me,


                                                                                              eat me,


                                                                                             and understand.


Am ashamed!


                          was a drear hypocrite –


                                               true believer –


                                      poised twice over on two feet,


                                                                       between volcano and earth.


 


Zeppelin took me sobbing from drear.


later, I found zeppelin home


then wailed.


 


MORTALITY STARVED ALIVE STARING DREAR FOG WINDOW!


 


Later, I rested under tall zeppelin flowers


                                                                      in motion,


                                                                      great like heroic day.


Came to understand day is a hero


            and I am not starved.


Came to understand drear,


            long to destroy


                                      with flowers,


                     to be a clown gardener.


 


4


Drear,


             my vision of tomorrow undone.


             a grey dawn lit by inferno.


             purple blood Rasputin,


                                              untying chains,


                                              floating down


                                                                      the Danube,


                                                                      the Tiber,


                                                                      the Seine.


Drear is paradisiacal laughter


                                                   raping itself to discover more.


Drear is windowless sights of meteor hit earth


           is heaven


                                      Sojourning eternal,


                                      Praying volcano


                                                           volcano drum.


Rested,


             searched zeppelin for clouds.


             found figures


                                    veiled,


                                         holding cold water to starve me


                                                                alive


                                                                tender


                                                                under locomotive stars in motion.


Stayed at zeppelin.


Turned starvation on its head.


Begged earth


WRAP ME IN FLOWRS.


Ignored volcano


Planned winged escape


                                      from drear zeppelin.


 


5


Was thirsty for a pinprick.


Prayed


             prick me earth


             wrap me in flowers


             I am your clown


in receivership.


             Earth


             Earth


                          wipe me out with understanding


 


6


After Zeppelin,


             saw its windows drear,


             my vision fogged


                                           by fantasy


                                           now undone.


After Zeppelin,


                         I sobbed:


                                             Earth


                                             Earth where are you now?


                                             am with your brothers.


                                             where are you now?


                                             have you abandoned us?


                                                     by the edge of pinprick?


                                                     to sing ladybird?


                                             where are your waves?


                                             keep us from loving drear.


After Zeppelin,


                         fell to dirt,


                                    dragged feet wondering volcano


                                                                                volcano


                                                                                          volcano drum.


                         turned my head –


                                                       understanding, NOW


                                                                                   I always rest


                                                                                   ON A PINPRICK –


                                                        to laugh


                                                                       drear, where elephants wail,


                                                                                   tearing down


                                                                                   drear,


                                                                                   Piece by piece,              


                                                                                                            At dawn.


THE WARDEN IS GONE!


NO ONE IS SANE!


NO ONE IS LEFT ALIVE?


 


On the dirt,


                    near me,


                                      were brothers, who I forgot,


                                                                that I left behind.


 


7


I am become the clown


                                      in receivership


                                      downing drinks at garden fair


                                                                      at closing time.


Earth is almost gone.


I am become,


                         preacher to anyone who will listen,


                         teacher to squirrels


                         man waiting for earth.


Am become the clown


                                      in receivership,


                                      wise to the wind,


                                      getting clocks –


                                                                  as gifts –


                                                                       from old father time.


Am become the clown laughing,


                                      always laughing.


 


Soon,


          the elephants here


THE EARTH IS ALMOST GONE!


 


8


I cut back the hyacinth,


                          laugh,


                          always laugh


                               Waiting for visitors to fawn over me,


                                                     I know,


                                                                  By then,


                                                                                 I’ll be with cherub day.


 


9


Returned today,


                            to tired bungalow,


                                                           to wait


                                                           and pray goodnight.


Am wise now.


THIS ALL ENDS WITH MY FOOTSTEPS!


Am destroying self with flowers,


                            living on poison berries,


                            the clown gardener.


 


I always rest,


                       poised,


                       on a pinprick.


 


---


Copyright © 2003 Oisín Breen. No reprints or distribution of any kind sort in any form in this or any other known universe or dimension or medium without my express permission.


---


Back from Italy


---

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Reviewed by Robin Ouzman Hislop 11/2/2003
a cool glance at the cherub Oisin
Reviewed by A PAX 11/2/2003
Hiya!!
this makes me think of a soul that has been thru the ringer! Emotionally, spirtually, and perhaps physically....and the safest place to find peace, and break from memories and hurt is in the earth...gardening.......

I have to read your poetry outloud to get the feel of it......this was a marathon for my tongue! lmao

well done, as they say in de DEN

pax
LA
Reviewed by Adam Walsvik (Reader) 11/1/2003
This really filled my head up.

Adam
Reviewed by Bhuwan Thapaliya 11/1/2003
Welcome Back.....You are back with a bang...superb write...unique but very deep!!!!!
Reviewed by E T Waldron 11/1/2003
Oisin I see your still wowing us! Good to see your insightful work again...this poem has a mephitic taste to it;-)warm wishes to you...
Reviewed by Christine Morell 11/1/2003
It's good too see you again, Oisin.
As always you exercise my brain with your wonderful poetry. I love the creative form of this.
~Chrissie
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 11/1/2003
This is quite a tome. The reuse of some words makes sense in the flow of your image-filled lines, but the whole meaning of the poem escapes me. Maybe it’s the word spacing that throws me—maybe not. Maybe I’m just too dense to see.
Reviewed by Tami Ryan 11/1/2003
Ah, wisdom begins in wonder... Good bunch o' words.
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 11/1/2003
O' my O' My O' My am I glad to see you..HUGSSSSSS!! Dammit I thought you left me here alone forever and ever....welcome back sweet friend!!

Gee drop me a note and tell me everything okay!!

One amazingly well... I love the style...well crafted poem here Oisin!!

Gee I am still in awe to see you here!!

Warm love Tinka

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