Teaching was full of fun,
Before these emails had begun,
Class was toiling away,
Doorknock, answer right away,
Despite my scholars' pleading,
Switched them all to silent reading,
Vital, sign your name, X or Y,
Choose one, class did sigh,
Who won that football game?
Who came second, who's to blame?
Sign your name, you see,
X means you teach literacy,
Star, you can teach the IRA,
You passed this test today,
Chalkies look back on this,
Laughs are fun for teaching Miss!
If our love is a sin, then heaven must be full of such tender and selfless sinning as ours— Radclyffe Hall
Explore themes of love and identity
Of Stephen Gordon’s innate sense of masculinity
Since a child, her desire, ‘women’
The idea that if love is considered a sin
The unfolding of a female sexual invert
The act of loving must be a tender selfless act, revert?
Love itself is not inherently sinful or
complexities of love, we shan’t ignore
But rather the circumstances surrounding it
Misfits from Malvern to London and then to Paris!
Ira furor brevis, the frailty, taboo and strife
Fellow q***r characters, all walks of life
From the *sapphic salon hostess Valérie Seymour
To the 'miserable army' and more
of outcasts that frequents the 'merciless
Drug-dealing, death-dealing' bars of Montmartre
Written in another time, still support and solidarity to
generations of LGBTQ genre
*Sapphic is an umbrella term for same-gender loving women or woman-aligned people, including lesbians and bisexual+ women. It is used to describe topics, activities, and ideas related to same-sex attraction among women. The term can also refer to the Greek lyric poet Sappho.
Entry for the Golden Age of Music Poetry Contest, sponsored by Oliver McKeithan, March 2025, Second Place.
I dreamed of Johnny Cash last night,
his music spoke to me,
I said I thought that you were dead,
but music lives said he,
but music lives said he.
From Folsom, to Fort Bend,
for every soul behind bars,
he asked if we could say a prayer,
then picked up his guitar,
then picked up his guitar.
He sung to me of Ira Hayes,
words that rung in my ears,
the world of reservations,
with all those rivers of tears,
with all those rivers of tears.
We talked and talked of music,
country, hip hop and blues,
how Bo Diddley and Beyoncé,
can move our blue suede shoes,
can move our blue suede shoes.
I dreamed of Johnny Cash last night
surprised to see him back,
I said I thought that you were dead,
but he was still dressed in black,
but he was still dressed in black.
Ira Earl Hudson
January 6th 1961 - December 20th 2023
VIEWING
Terry's Funeral Home
2337 N Williams Ave, Portland, OR 97227
Jan 18th, 2024 @ 4:00pm
GRAVESIDE SERVICES
Willamette National Cemetery
11800 SE MT Scott Blvd, Happy Valley, OR 97086
Jan 19th 2024 @ 1:30pm
Femur sighs, given a break and transformed by love.
— by poet (inspired by Ira Byock)
What’s worse than an illness, an accident?
Imagine with me
helpless in the abyss…
Open to the curse of curs.
No warm or cold compress
No caress
No handkerchief
No matter how hard you have it,
if surrounded by compassion,
you’re not as broken.
The charming Lady Adler Irene;
Was strangely nowhere to be seen;
As revealed by this clear blanked out scene;
Where those who knew her said she'd been,
Where oft she did appear.
That splendid genius Sherlock Holmes;
For whom no mystery stayed unsolved;
Took up the case within a beat;
As it transpired this curious feat,
Involved his very own sweet dear.
Now Holmes used every trick he knew;
He studied every minute clue;
Searched high and low to no avail;
There simply was no sign or trail,
To indicate what foul did play or who.
But dear Irene had not been taken;
She had in fact just been forsaken;
Her jealous Holmes would have decried;
Her talent, should she ever have tried,
To solve a case or two.
One assumed she changed her name to Ira;
Bought tickets to the Riviera;
With an Italian beau in tow;
To crack the case of how Italians row,
To show her Holmes!
But Irene's path led not to Rome;
Her beauty lost on Sherlock Holmes;
Jamaica had seduced her mind;
She lost herself in Caribbean rhyme,
A rum filled hut now home.
Risas brotantes de charlas errantes,
Risueñas de goce sin destino definido,
Buscando en la alegría un velo radiante
Que oculte heridas que aniquilan y ofenden.
Pequeñas caritas iluminadas de sonrisas,
Grandes cicatrices en el tejido de la vida,
Tristes olvidos de etapas tan necesarias,
Sin vivencias de la niñez florecida.
Contemplando una triste ausencia de resguardo,
Veladas por destellos de fugaz inocencia,
Reflejadas en episodios efímeros,
En espacios extraños a sus guías y referentes.
Historias de terror anidan en el ser que procrea,
Huellas del rechazo transmitidas sin tregua,
Odio y rencor, corrosivos, dañan su envoltura,
Fantasmas que atormentan un tierno corazón en penumbra.
Ira ante un entorno que delata su pesar,
Su motivo yace en la desazón del presente,
Guardando repulsión hacia un contexto ajeno,
Protegiendo al perpetrador de narrativas dolorosas y dolientes.
El fuego de la rabia arde al vislumbrar estos hechos,
breves instantes de alegría seguidos de recelo y desdén,
rostros cubiertos de cargas y tristezas que no es suya,
demonios que corrompen el alma del indefenso ser.
It's not a prerequisite, of course, but if a piece of writing is any good, chances are it's probably offensive to someone. (Paraphrasing John Irving-A Widow for One Year) So, writer beware...
Words are a writer's stock in trade,
To ply it well requires a versatile,
Not volatile, vocabulary.
With words a writer's claim to fame is made,
But words can have broad repercussions.
So when he writes
He should select them well,
Not just to sell,
But so they don't arouse the scrutiny
Of those guys who comprise Homeland Security
And become the subject of discussions
Of the FBI, the CIA,
The DAR, the DMV,
The IRS, the IRA,
USPS, the EPA,
The PTA, SPCA,
AARP or AAA,
Twitter, NAACP,
The NFL, the MLB,
The LGBTQ community,
The NRA, the PGA,
NASA or the BBB,
Ellen, Oprah, Dr. Phil,
An ad hoc Sunday sermon bill,
Or his city, county, state constabulary.
Allowed preachers to be unexceptional
Sacrificed priesthood as liberty ordain
Prophecy lingua by Hiberno accent
Endued with melodic timbrels and dances
No differs from Sufi whirling for their God
Sung the song as Moses led the sacred song
Anthemic and ambience grunge as cathedral bells
Ingrained pedal's drum and chiming guitar
Proclaimed gladness, love and peace
No men to the left and women to the right
No evil, devil, debil and imbecile words
No who errs severely retarded
Equality is their deed
Narrative music poked holy book verses
Told your own story since war pained
Die hard being Irish, shaking the pitch
Both IRA and UK, put the guns down
Tribute to: Dolores O'Riordan
Every year, max-out your I.R.A.,
So that you’ll be wealthy in times of need.
Start putting money aside. Now! Today!
Learn to live within your means. Start today.
Don’t buy on credit trifles you don’t need.
Every year, max-out your I.R.A.
Manage your credit, but keep debt at bay;
Debt is a trap from which you’re seldom freed.
Start putting money aside. Now! Today!
Don’t let falling markets scare you away;
Think like a farmer buying bargain seed.
Every year, max-out your I.R.A.
Diversify assets in every way.
Study finances and investing. Read!
Start putting money aside. Now! Today!
Don’t procrastinate; your future’s today.
This is about security, not greed.
Every year, max-out your I.R.A.
Start putting money aside. Now! Today!
under this gray suburban sky
if my heart will be made of stone
I swear, it will be pumice stone
it will float
over resentment and disaffection
over boredom and illusion
over anger and incomprehension
over discrimination.....
if my heart will be made of stone
my body will be the water where it will float
.......................
sotto questo grigio cielo suburbano
se il mio cuore sarà di pietra
lo giuro, sarà pietra pomice
galleggerà
sopra il risentimento e la disaffezione
sopra la noia e l'illusione
sopra la rabbia e l'incomprensione
sulla discriminazione .....
se il mio cuore sarà di pietra
il mio corpo sarà l'acqua dove galleggerà
...................
bajo este cielo suburbano
si mi corazón sera de piedra
lo juro, sera piedra pómez
y flotará
sobre resentimiento y desafección
sobre aburrimiento e ilusión
sobre la ira y la incomprensión
sobre la discriminación .....
si mi corazón sera de piedra
mi cuerpo sera el agua donde el flotará
Marco Bo
Walls of red dripping light
Heavy on my flight or fight,
I am the Igor gaurding these hallways.
Hunchback green with a crimson stare
Past the gates of Truth or Beware,
I reside on the house on the hill.
Floors that creak and stairs that wind
Taunt the these scary demons of mine,
You cant conjure these ghosts that reside.
Dracula's coffin, Frankenstein's chair
Ride on the back of the Wolfman's hair,
But Im the monster they all still fear.
What they dont understand-
They raise their torch and sharp pitchforks
And poke at the beast within me.
Gaslight the extremes
with a frightened flair
As I haunt these rooms
Who would dare to step in here?
I am Quasimodo personified.
And all the townspeople chant:
Demonic Devin under the bed
While Emotional Emily could wake the dead.
For Manic Mary never fear
Paranoid Pete will bring you to tears.
Insecure Ira has banshees screams
But Schizo Stan has nothing on those streams-
The haunted attraction lives inside me.
Now Enter me,
Im a Castle Freak-
You misunderstand my daydreams.
See me,
Im that sideshow creep-
I need a therapist to conduct this exorcism.
The town was founded by a king hunter
Brave enough to kill elephant, lion, etc. on his own
He was the fear that feared the fearful
Animals in the fearful bush
On this day he founded the town
His legs walked him for hunting
He reached a fearful bush
Where he chased a group of animals
Within a big hole, the animals hid
He lay on siege, till his gun drank red water
Sourced by animals,
Like stream sources water
Probably, the wish to kill more animals
Bewitch him to build a hut
Beside a tree called IRA
His hut was built
As days embarked on unreturned journey
People came, settled with him.
The area was becoming a town
'what name should this infant town
be christened
their heads could not think
yet the IRA tree kept spreading it hands
It spread it hands over the huts
And shaded (iji) them against the sun
The dwellers thought this IRA plus IJI
Yes, this infant town should
be Christened Iragbiji.
Iragbiji is a town, it was located beside Oshogbo State of Osun
Iji means shade.
Hillary To Save the Day
Hillary has come to save the day
For all his lies, Trump must pay
With IRA had many a hassle
When he bought another castle
In the end had to give them away.
Jim Horn
Manchester City Centre, UK, 1996, a large white van did stop
Two men got out and ran away, then they blew our City up
The van was full of gelignite, enough to fill a shop
With thousands of people shopping and it caught them on the hop
The police knew who the men were but there were no arrest
They did not want this incident to change the IRA peace process
The building's all but flattened and stone turned into rocks
But an iconic thing stood out tall, an old red mail box
It was the only thing left standing, that was central to the blast
But it still stands up, in the same place, to remind us of the past
The box remains iconic, standing like a god
Sending out our message, we will beat the iron rod
Twenty years have passed us by, our City is reborn
The IRA have got the point, that we will not be crushed like corn
My Manchester, I love her, she is like a queen
The greatest City in the world, the best that you have seen
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