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Oisín Breen

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Just like yesterday
by Oisín Breen

Sunday, April 25, 2004
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Oisín Breen
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           >> View all 80

All things sinister, all things familiar, the stars on my collar look good in the mirror.
My dreams are only embers.
Mind tangled up staring shadowy fear in the face I sketch my dreams of last night in the cloud.
War for me is the same as my dreams, a hiding place for my own mistakes.

Drinking Jamaican rum I am the cloud staring at fire.
I draft soldiers like lots from the junkyard.
At night I sit by the fireplace read Proust soothed by the calm sound of gunfire.
I draft graveyards like soldiers and fill them with daisies and tears.

Shadows like rabid men leap on me when I stare too long.
I puff clouds of Odysseus.
Insanity my raison détre drives me like a taxi.
My shadow is my curriculum vitae.
I shoot bullets to save the bomb.
I throw soldiers like glue to stick on an invisible wall.

I ride a unicycle in the presidential chair pounding the cerebral drum.
I exhale wooden ships on the water.
I breathe cannon fire!
Night turns only to night and I bang a tin gong.
This is war! Draw our lines soldiers!

I am the cloud tonight.
I’ll stay safe up here.
We are all nameless drawing rules for the game while U wait.

I lilt under the solar kiss of a twisted ivory sun.
It is dawn.
This dream is done.

Dance! Dance Mohammed dance!
Yesterday I threw strings around Jesus and made him dance!
Dance Krishna dance! Dance angels dance!

We are all nameless standing in a sea of red flowers.
I cannot move.
I puff clouds of butterflies sweating in the pale lunar shadow.

Dance! Dance Jehovah dance!
Yesterday I threw strings around Buddha and made him dance!
Dance Moses dance! Dance sinners dance!

I have power! I am all-powerful!
I sent a memo to the heads of state, throw bombs out the windows!
On a blood red street somewhere all over the world I bought an infinity of graveyards.

I throw strings around my self and tie my Purple Heart and silver stripe around my neck.
I asphyxiate on my own undoing.
I meditate on my own confusion.
Derided by the butterfly I fight the pacifist.
Shooting bullets to save the bomb on a blood red canvas the sun dances like a saviour.
Looking in the mirror and on the naked street I tune myself like a guitar and get ready for another protest song.

Copyright © 2004 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.

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Reviewed by Ronald Hull 5/5/2004
Strange similies make sense-which god condones war?
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 4/25/2004
Most powerful and outstanding poem Oisin!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Retta (Reindeer) Mckenzie 4/25/2004
This was so powerful and outstanding, just incredible images you brought to mind here,

Reviewed by jude forese 4/25/2004
very powerful poem ... many excellent iamges ... one that caught my mind is "I asphyxiate on my own undoing."
Reviewed by Debashish Haar (Reader) 4/25/2004
EXCELLENT rendition of thoughts!!!!!
Reviewed by Floria Kelderhouse (Reader) 4/25/2004
Oisin...from the first line....I didn't breathe...
until I finished this..then took a long deep breath..
there is so much tension in this deep....
it touches every nerve in the body...bravo..floria
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