Joined up thinking for the Irish Left
Rebuilding Ireland: Long on Promise, Short on Detail Mon Aug 29, 2016 22:20 | Eoin O'Mahony
Brexit and Other Issues: Comments on the Current Situation Mon Aug 29, 2016 21:52 | Brendan Young
Bin Charges: From Private Circus to Public Service Tue Jun 21, 2016 12:38 | Michael Taft
Beyond Grexit & Brexit, Advocating an Irish and a British role in solving Europe... Tue Jun 21, 2016 12:18 | Tony Phillips
Hardship never lasts forever? Wed May 04, 2016 15:50 | Raymond Deane
Irish Left Review >>
For lefties too stubborn to quit
Train coming round the bend? 18:09 Mon Aug 29, 2016 | WorldbyStorm
The terrain on which the left should contest? 11:59 Mon Aug 29, 2016 | WorldbyStorm
That hill British Labour is climbing? 10:19 Mon Aug 29, 2016 | WorldbyStorm
Left Archive: Vincent Doherty, Election candidate National H-Block/Armagh Committee, Leaflet, June 1... 09:25 Mon Aug 29, 2016 | WorldbyStorm
Left Archive: National H-Block/Armagh Committee, Leaflet, 1981 03:23 Mon Aug 29, 2016 | WorldbyStorm
Cedar Lounge >>
Life should be full of strangeness, like a rich painting
Notes for a Book on Money and the Irish State - The Marshall Aid Program 15:10 Sat Apr 02, 2016
The Financial Crisis:What Have We Learnt? 19:58 Sat Aug 29, 2015
Money in 35,000 Words or Less 21:34 Sat Aug 22, 2015
THE WRATH OF KANE: BANKING CRISES AND POLITICAL POWER 09:32 Fri Jan 30, 2015
ALWAYS THE ARTISTS: WEEK THREE OF THE BANK INQUIRY 23:11 Thu Jan 22, 2015
Dublin Opinion >>
Farewell from NWL Sun May 19, 2013 14:00 | namawinelake
Happy 70th Birthday, Michael Sun May 19, 2013 14:00 | namawinelake
Of the Week? Sat May 18, 2013 00:02 | namawinelake
Noonan denies IBRC legal fees loan approval to Paddy McKillen was in breach of E... Fri May 17, 2013 14:23 | namawinelake
Gayle Killilea Dunne asks to be added as notice party in Sean Dunne?s bankruptcy Fri May 17, 2013 12:30 | namawinelake
NAMA Wine Lake >>
Saturday August 18, 2012 00:23 by Perri Fowler
This is a feeling about life, or more so the absence of life.
“Goodbye my friend it’s hard to die, when all the birds are singing in the sky”. Terry Jacks.
Hollowness creeps through my innards. Like a once sturdy tree trunk eaten by termites and falling, rotting on the ground. The ever presence of fiscal doom looms, bills unpaid, plans not made for there is no time when sleep is the only escape. The fights, blame and tension that accompanies us on our falling down while we wait for the bank to take away our home. Social housing awaits those early enough to make claims while those later, who have suffered longer to maintain themselves will be homeless.
I wish I could walk out and away from this despair, but I can’t. I awake and know something to be wrong, like the memory of grief for someone gone. It is I who has been removed, neither dead nor away, but existing only. To feed my children and hope that they will not feel this misery, I cry. This is all I ask, to feed them with hope, food and a future and to make them happy. The rank odour of failure oozes from every pore as I try again to wash in cold water. Though the smell is not from me, it feels like it is, the bin has not been collected, again. The cars tyres flatten in the drive, this car was once a means to live, to travel and earn, it now not old but unwanted either by me or anyone. It has been advertised for sale now for a year, no calls. The bills keep coming with the occasional letter of regret from possible employers, those polite enough to even respond.
My skin feels brittle, my body old and hungers hold released not, like a death toll. Is this to be the release? Economy of eating means poor food and bad health, dying slowly and not caring. Sleeping badly and hoping to dream that life is indeed getting better. Sometimes waking day dreams that there is a light in the distance, telling me that if we keep walking we will live. Trudging through this quagmire being given false hope by leaders who lead blind lemmings to the waters edge, saying that to drown is a life choice. Leaders, laughable, not funny but we Irish are the happiest nation, we laugh in despair. We laugh at despair. Leaders, garden paths and apathy abound when anarchy comes from the top. The true leaders we have trudge endlessly trying to make sense of this madness, attempting not to justify but to correct the mistakes, we the true leaders are. Each so called leaders effort an error, each err to do justice for someone undeserving while many suffer trying each day only to eat.
Will I wake tomorrow? Do I want to? My wife cries for my failure, again, as yesterday I did for her failure. I cry for her pain, again as she once did for mine, but slowly becoming no more, the love lost, the caring crushed. There is only power for existence, all else is luxury. Austerity they say is an answer. The austere laugh loudly and ask us to suffer more while the coffers run dry having been filled to overflow, who catches the coins? Who will catch the coins tomorrow? Will these coins be of any worth when those with them can no longer carry their weight, and all of those trudging have stopped. For we will all stop when the food no longer carries us towards the drowning place to which we are being led. We will have no coins left to purchase food, there will be no-one to produce the food. Despair will win and we will all be silent, those with the coins will have victory, but at what cost. Those with the coins will have nothing to do.
“Goodbye”, the birds will inherit what’s left for they have not stopped singing, we have!