Freedom Fighters
Come out, you freedom fighters,
All ye silent brothers and sisters
Ye sinister figures
Suited and booted in garments of shadow
C’mon so;
Give us this day
Our daily bread.
And deliver us from evil
Deliver re-unification to the people
Keep the free radicals smothered
Your bloody hands covered
By armies of faces of lost teenagers
Put guns in their hands and bullets in the knees of the dealers
Come out ye puppeteers!
And wipe the fearful expressions from eyes
When you show them an OD for the first time
Then show them
What putting bullets in bodies really feels like
Wipe the fear from their eyes
And make them the sub-human machinery of your day-dream and lies.
What kind of psych sub-conscious damage decimates communities
When their children bear arms
When they’re barely off the teat?
I wonder if their mothers dream of liberation.
I wonder
If they lie awake at night chewing off their nails
Worrying about the revolution?
Listen! The beat of this city is rattling;
Nerves and tablets, nerves and tablets, nerve tablets
And teeth gnashing.
Your old tome is beginning to crumble,
Your young army tumbles from the bridge into the river
Without ever thinking it suicide,
And how they cried when they woke up to find
Their lives were just bullet-proof vests for their idols
And no closer to the greater good.
Remove them hoods ye gods of war!
Ye shadow voices of the murmuring masses
Sit your asses on the front-line and fight for what’s left
Of the pride of your country
Your fists in the air, boys,
Come out!
Out from your castles!
And let our children play…
Listen to Abby Oliveira Performing “Freedom Fighters”
Tír na nÓg
For all our obedience.
All our tolerance.
All our eyes, turned away
to cry
over concrete graves.
For all those seeds the tears couldn’t reach
to make trees, our
offering of scars up to Divinity,
Even after all
our good behaviour!
For all our ignorance of the Law of the Water;
Waiting in queues for eternity
only to be
slaughtered
by the Law of the Land.
And for our sand castles,
Our condemned houses,
Our polite submissions
Of form after form
After all our votes!
After all our waiting,
And for all our poets!
Even after all our poets!
There is still no sign
Of this hallowed
Tír na nÓg!
