in the consciousness of earth

—————————————————

IN THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF EARTH

ROSALIN BLUE

—————————————————

Belfast

Lapwing


�

ROSALIN BLUE

�

Belfast

LAPWING

First Published by Lapwing Publications

c/o 1, Ballysillan Drive

Belfast BT14 8HQ

Email: [email protected]

http://www.lapwingpoetry.com

Copyright © Susanne Fiessler 2012

All rights reserved

The author has asserted her/his right under Section 77

of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988

to be identified as the author of this work.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from

the British Library.

Since before 1632

The Greig sept of the MacGregor Clan

Has been printing and binding books

Lapwing Publications are printed at Kestrel Print

Unit 1, Spectrum Centre

Shankill Road Belfast BT13 3AA

028 90 319211

E:[email protected]

Hand-bound in Belfast at the Winepress

Set in Aldine 721 BT

ISBN 978-1-909252-13-4

ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Acknowledgements are due to the Revival Poetry Journal, the FiveWords Volumes, and the Munster Literature Centre, who havepreviously published some of these poems. Thanks also to ErnstRowohlt Verlag, Berlin, for use of the poem “Städter” by AlfredWolfenstein from the Expressionist Anthology “Menschheitsdämmerung”,and to Max Niemeyer Verlag, Tübingen, for use of the poem “Weltende”by Else Lasker Schüler. I hope my translations do their poems justice.

My deepest gratitude goes out to my family, Ray and Kaya, who havegiven me the patience and back-up for hours spent working on poetryand towards this collection over years. Nothing is as valuable as thisbasic support! And in this heartfelt thanks I include my dear parentswho have given me the strong background to become what I am.

My sincere gratitude also goes out to my fellow writers at Ó Bhéal inCork. The poetry event has kept my inspiration going through timesof learning, writer’s block and beyond. Your responses and feedbackover the years have encouraged me to achieve this collection.

A very special thanks to Cork poet Nyaradzo Masunda and friendand photographer Eamon Arthy who have helped with revising thecollection and polishing the poems to shine. The most specialthanks goes to Paul Casey whose friendship, time, expertise andcareful critique has helped shape this collection into what it is now.

And last not least, I would like to thank all my present and futurereaders. May these poems create a dialogue with you that spreads intothe world.

iii

CONTENTS

31TO MOTHER EARTH . . . . . . . . . . . . . .29THE LAND TRILOGY . . . . . . . . . . . . . .28PRAYER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27PASSAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .26AUTUMN POEM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .25THE OLD OAK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .24HOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .23SUMMER HOP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .22ABSTINENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .21CHERRYBLOSSOM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .20BEGIN ANEW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19DOWN IN THE SUNLESS SEA . . . . . . . .18KEEPERS OF TIME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .17ABOUT ETERNITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .16DAWNING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15WATER-MOON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .13BY THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12TIDES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11MESSAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10RELIGION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9FROM ABOVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8WRITING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

NATURE AND THE SPRITUAL

iv

66BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .65AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .64NO TITLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .63OTHER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .62ULTRA MODERNITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . .61RECESSION LOVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .60UPRISE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59THE WILD WILD GALES OF EIRE . . . . . .57THE HOBO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .56PARASITES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .55PARADISE LOST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .54HUMANKIND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .53THE CRUNCH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .52PROGRESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .51GROUND ZERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .50APOCALYPSE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .49WELTENDE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .48SUBWAY SILENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47CITY SLICKERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46STÄDTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45IN THE STATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .44DRINKERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43TO THE OLD WOMAN . . . . . . . . . . . . .41SUPERFICIALITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40LOOKS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .39JUDGEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37CORK BOGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .36CORK STYLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34THE WRITER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

SOCIETY AND THE POLITICAL

v

for Ray and Kayawith love and gratitude

forever

vi

NATURE AND THE SPRITUAL

ROSALIN BLUE

7

WRITING

Attacked, my mind strives helplesslybound to yield this spell tonight:

Invaded by the Spirit freein trance enslaved I have to writecontrolled in words and all of me.


8

FROM ABOVE

We seenot the boat on the water

just the ripples it castsnot the plane in the sky

just the clouds it drawsnot the creature on the ground

just the traces it carves

We don’t see.

ROSALIN BLUE

9

RELIGION

The rugged rockson which I stand – skin of the Earthholding me firmly.

Salt licking my feet,shimmery waves – a watery cohesionwrapping the Planet blue.

I skim the even pebble– time compressedand licked away – across the Ocean skin.

One…three…seven, eightebbing away to infinityas my skin ripples with goosebumps.

My eyes raiseas the Giant Goddess smiles with me – tiny particle of Earth.


10

MESSAGE

Here I standwhere the flood still comesbetween seaweed and stones.

Where creaturesdredge in the stardusta million years longAnd the shadows of cloudsdance upon mountaintops.

Here the wind blowsthe sleep from my mindI stand on the rocks,merging with time

and then comes the floodwave by wavestreaming, land inwardsembracing my feet:For here – I stand.

ROSALIN BLUE

11

TIDES

Winds blowOceantearswithin usto and fro

Waves washsoul and sensesinto the farand return

Sunrays smile upWaterdropletsand drysorrowful faces


12

BY THE SEA

I

The seais lapping like a catgently lickingup the beachpurringsleepily– soothing me

II

The view stretchesmy eyes far farallows the mindto wanderbeyond everyunknown bayand releases the wellof words springingfrom the bottomof my motion.

III

The rocks looklike an old leather bookcreased and wrinkledpressed from lyingbetween other booksfor aeonsafter thorough use.Millions of yearswritten in these rocksI wonder whoreads them now

ROSALIN BLUE

13

IV

The lark above the cliffsis invisibleHer sweet songin the evening bluetunes me inopens my earsand makes my heart sing.


14

WATER-MOON

These timesdissolve into a seaof colours

This nightthe waters carry herinto her fairy-wood

This moonis silvered by the riverfrom her centre

At this hourher heart smouldersin a sea of clouds

And in that dreamshe fuseswith the waters

Swimmingin that placewithin her blaze

And that nightshe soaks the fireand the water

To cleanse within – She’s free

ROSALIN BLUE

15

DAWNING

When morning-sunlight risesto wash the night awaywhen early sunrays wanderto hail the day

The nascent Spirit kissesyour dreams awayfrom day and nightto clear the mind

for an open-hearted morningand what lies beyond time


16

ABOUT ETERNITY

I saw the sky from above.The world goes in slow-motion thereEntirely blue and through.And the clouds make anew ice-age under the sun.

On Earth everythingpursues its routeIt creeps and houndsforever forwardDoes not gain land nor time.And the Ocean spansas far as the skiesWhere they toucheverything stands still.

And alonethe double-layered clouds hold what is and wasand bear what lasts on shoulders:Bear the skyand the water and the rock.

ROSALIN BLUE

17

KEEPERS OF TIME

From rough serrated mountain peaksabove the clouds that touch the sky down to the bathtubs smoothened by the seathe rugged rocks are keepers of our time

Magnetic magma chunks from the deepest core,from chasms, rifts and canyons, carmine lava sores– All liquid time afloat since our planet’s birth,condensed to rocky layers in the Earthembedded shells and fossils tell of days gone by.

Crystal veins run through the fissured grounds,sediments of molten sand and stonestrickling through the jagged face of cliffssparking up imaginations of the human kind:Time has set to diamonds, gems and gold

The pebbles – aeons pressed and licked awayGravelled grit are grounded splints of timelike sifted sand adrift in heavy shiftscrumbled down and blown by wind to dunes,compacted and compressed again by tides

They are the concretion of time evermore:The highest ridges with their cragged crestsor the ice-grey granite blocks of glacial drifts,the even flintstones in the bedrock of riversand the pebbled rubble washed on to the shore

Stardust glimmers on the sandy seasideBoulders of meteorites land a piece from spaceA universal message for the minders of Earth:Stones are the keepers of time.


18

DOWN IN THE SUNLESS SEA*

of the Sea.”Down in the Lightyou’re home,fulfilled at length –earthly breath evaporates.my Son, my Hope Water drags him down,“There you areThe boy gives up. divinely powerful:exhausts.he hears the voicethe struggle of his arms red light’s appealSurrenderingIndulged in love,

to light.”of Mother Anemone.Come down, descend into the open armsof the Land.and sinks relieved more than the Spirit feels an ardent joywill give you lifewhat looks like home –in my domainHe longs to reachThe lucid beautya light waves red.Don’t fear, come home.the unknown sea“Calm down, let goDeep down beyondinto the boy’s mind:

whispers enchantmentin Welcome.raises his powers,Seaweeds caress himThe Watergod and he accepts.allures Death’s domain!”of the familiar voiceyet only darkness,Inviting whisperthere is no life, no light

to sunless sea,his enemies are gone.“Do not go down loving friendsrevives the small boy’s will:Warmth and softness,the voice of Earthly Spiritsurround him.Whispering wind,friendly waveshe feels beauty,fight a war.NowPowers of Water and Land

with the waves.as he goes.strength floats awayno pressureHe holds his breath,Perceives no pain,for life.he sinks from combat down.killing his hope by deep silencebehind the horizonAffectedSails disappear

*Title inspired by a line of the poem “Kubla Khan”by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

ROSALIN BLUE

19

BEGIN ANEW

The air still cold, and clear the new moon skiesThe city lies in a quiet Song of Night

And through the sleep, the waiting silencesounds far and strong the old, old cry.They say: The geese are coming homeThey say that winter has gone by!

And through the waiting silence soarspure and clear the cry of life – anew


20

CHERRYBLOSSOM

Pink Fluffdown the roadup in the treesblossoming

until

Their snow fallswhirlingthrough the air –

Filling the skywith a scent of Heaven

ROSALIN BLUE

21

ABSTINENCE

A meek little tenttwo sleeping bagsthree sheepserving us warmly,a humble firein the half-moon night

As the sun risesin a royal-blue skywe walk on coarse grains of sandour imaginary horsestrotting playfullycantering, skippingalong the sea

A rich time of abstinenceour little journeyinto the blueto the camp siteby the beachunder a blazing sunand the Earth beneath us


22

SUMMER HOP

Wish I was there – In my mind I drivethe way overthe Red Mountainmy soul longingeyes stretching to seefar far the dancing tree

Away awayto where you’re swayingwordlesslyunder the dancing tree

My dance with the leaves straw under my feetinto the branchesunder a blazing skyis a prayer all nightAnd into my third eye melts a Pentecostal light

ROSALIN BLUE

23

HOME

Once you fly awayfrom homeinto the journey of migration

you becomea birdalways on your way

So look outfor a tree you liketo call your homefor a while....


24

THE OLD OAK

The old oak-tree like a half-lungstretches out into the mistcatches every tiny dropletin the silence of the night,so still – wind-still

Under gnarled and winding rootsin their dark and tiny cavespixies raise a feastfor the breathing of the oak,old and bent half-lung –

Champion of life.

ROSALIN BLUE

25

AUTUMN POEM

little pansies hidebehind clipped hedgesfrom the winds

the crystal skybreathes frosty airson the withering flowers

as a nimble feline after flightily skimming the soilflees the flowerbeds

objective fulfilled by clapping hands:

the garden breathesautumn-peace again.


26

PASSAGE

The geese are flying south,calling farewell to the summer

Their flight foretells new times.Greeting autumn in the blue skyI saw the dark delta silhouette

Their cry I heard through clear crisp air:I know this is the parting of the year.

ROSALIN BLUE

27

PRAYER

It’s pouring from the heavens,thought-circles in my mindI walk out to the gardento cleanse within the rain

I reach out to the skiesto pray the Earth good-morningI touch her with my soles – baremy hands, my heart, my eyes

I feel my body wakingand opening up insideI free myself in dancingfor Mother Earth and life

I kneel down in the garden,land and grass are soaked,and sink into her comfortto kiss the holy ground

And in the passing momentShe asks me to ariseto place myself within herand walk into the morning

and go into the world todaywith open-hearted eyes


28

THE LAND TRILOGY

I. Strong Land

The Land caresses my soul,blows the worry-lines from my face

She puts her arms around meand her ground is firm

She raises my sight to the distanceand I see clear again

II. Boundless Land

The Land caresses my eyes.They say the eyesare gates to the soul

Beyond the hillsthe Land opens to the sea.They say the seais the gate to new horizons

My eyes caress the skies:Dreams of a whole life revealed beyond the distance

My eyes caress the Land.

ROSALIN BLUE

29

III. Troubled Land

When the streets are sleepingthe Land smiles.

They awaken in citieswhere people seetheand houses bristlewith fear and wrath

When the streets are screamingthe Land cries.


30

TO MOTHER EARTH

They wound youMother Earth,digging their drift-minesunder your skinParasites that broach your fountsdraining life.

You breatheMother Earth,in the moontideYou heal the tunnelsfrom withinThey contract with timeBut the diggers stayblind to the healing.

They fear,Mother Earth,to be lost – enclosed by you.Yet I knownothing more securethan to be merged in you –inside the heart of life.

You liveMother Earth –longer.

ROSALIN BLUE

31


32

SOCIETY AND THE POLITICAL

ROSALIN BLUE

33

THE WRITER

I am a writer who does not write,as everything everything is repeat repeatall is analyzed, criticized, specifiedall explained, defined, describedall expressed and talked and captured.What can I say, what’s left to write what does remain?I’m a paper without a penI am a writer who does not write.

I am the ear that does not hear.Just noise of cities echo, echowaves of traffic through the airads and news and ads and liesseduction, war, deceit and more.I no more hear the voicethat sounds in silenceDrowned in the flood of words around.So I’m a voice without a songI am a writer who does not write.

I am a mouth that does not speak.Too much talk, empty talk words with holes, the goal is goldblasting ‘round earth, zipping through space web-babbles leaking, cybertext whizzing computer computer computer, www.Who listens and whose answers matter?Opposing opinions an ongoing battleWhat party do your poems push?I am a mouth that does not speakI am a writer who does not write.


34

I am the eye that does not see.Clouded by the ‘Isms’ of academyas formalism blocks the mindrationalism with theory blindno sense for reality – what do we see?Bombs, corruption, catastrophesglobal warming, money-laund’ringthe cuts – you’re fired, no job, no home.Not one word counted, no justice to seein the stronghold of names playing games.I am the eye that does not seeI am a writer who does not write.

I am the hand that does not do.When politics do their “politricks”everyday everyday politics touch us.Whittling down into homesrattling families to their boneskeeping us busy busy and downas they make wars elsewhere.So “There is suffering” suffering suffering.Oh, the damage done when one hand washes the other and the left does not see what the right hand does.So what is there for me to do?I am a writer who does not write!

I am the writer who’s writing these words.What is the power of poetry?Let’s be analytical, critical, political!Keep the muscle flexing, get the music singing get the rhythm swinging – and get the point across:Speak the mind that comes to seeold mistakes repeated from last centuryTake on the spiritual responsibility of shaping life to the consciousness of Earth.

ROSALIN BLUE

35

CORK STYLE

Blue-eyed and innocentI arrived in Cork,the typical Irishdrooping street lampsdimly illuminating the rugged streets at night.

Once I owned these streetswith my bikeand I owned those nightswith my drum.At Tribes – still there,I treat myself to a “Death by Chocolate”.

Now the pedestrian zonepushes the road asidedesymmetrizes the streetand over the gapingDutch-style plain,owned now by skaters,those Italian steel scaffold street lamps towering.

Cork is so European nowadays, so globalized,so stylish –it deserves my“Death by Chocolate”.


36

CORK BOGS

Down the motorwayout to the oceanyou pass a metal bird.Some artist from elsewherewas awardedto put it there

where once the bogsdark, wild and sludgyspread their secretivesubcutaneous dangers.

A child, a boyrunning down from his tempestuous familyto the shelter of the bogs.Each patch of grass he knows each path each trace each tree

And all the birds risinghundreds, millions ofwings, voices circling and settling

Gone now – dried out.Wiped off the mapfor this motorway – and a landfillstinking dump-gulls screeching.

ROSALIN BLUE

37

The boy is a man now.Every time he drivesout that motorwaythe South Ring on the mapout to the oceanpast that metal sculpture of a bird

He cries the song of all those birds,growls in rage and thinks:“One day, that metal disgrace in all our faces, that ignorance of all their lost lives – One day – it’s mine.”


38

JUDGEMENT

I’m fellingthe landof my longingwith words

In the fightof my Inneragainst what’s foreign

the verdictfalls on myself

These wordsbear witness to my fall

ROSALIN BLUE

39

LOOKS

The firstforms the verdict.

The secondalways strikes tinted.It comes with iron bars.

The thirdwatches in safetythe dangerbanished in the cage.

Who daresto look into the eyeof the predator

to uncage it – the human


40

SUPERFICIALITY

Cool, breathtakingly handsomehe walks down the stairsto the lightened halla cigarette in his hand.

His smile and friendlinesscharm the make-up faces.Eyes brightenconversations of ladiesin fur coats pause for a while.The champagne in their handsfreezes for a second

while desirous eyesglide down his gray suitdown the straight creaseand up to his knowing eyes.

His own just go bythose who do not look.He has the choicelets his eyes wander across the roomfull of ladies in anticipation.

He picks out a facepaces down the last steptakes the chosen lady’s handand speaks with a smoky voice:“I’ll give you all tonightI’ll pay for anything you want. My chauffeuris awaiting us.”

ROSALIN BLUE

41

Then turns around guides his selectiontowards the door.The crowd movesas he exhales a last puff

and they disappearleaving discomfortand a cold wind.


42

TO THE OLD WOMAN

Eyes starewindows mirror glancesday in, day outand down.The street is breathingemptinessinto the windowpaneLife passes byoutside.

Eyes searchingalone yet fearing mine that see the streetQuestioningas they meet coldnessand are pushed away.

Sometimesmy eyes mirror yoursOld Womansearching for life.Sometimes I waveat the reflection – and our eyessee at last.

ROSALIN BLUE

43

DRINKERS

Isn’t it good that glass in the endbecomes sand againon the bottom of the river

Where else for the drinkersby dark watersat night, perhaps a firemusic, a few peopleor again alone

At hand the emptybottle by dark waterWill you slip amessage in on time?

Or will the glassbe broken at the endof the dark waterand again become stone


44

IN THE STATION

Heavy-metal guitars on radioboom into hard iron ears – from dark corners at the escalatorswhere untrained skaters proudly performwith expression bragging coolness their simple tricks on the rolling steps,– or from yellow walkmen in black pocketsof silver-riveted leather-jackets.

White poodles of chic ladieswith large, red flowerhatsand elegant, white glovesbark and get into fightswith dark-shadowed, scrubby street-tykeswearing heavy gold-collars,who belong to dirty old mensitting homelessly under the waterproof roofsof the overcrowded train-station.

Movie-youngsters styled in bluejeansrun away from the tobacco-handsbegging for money and love.

Beerbottled hooligansoozing the odour of hashwith skateboards under their feetand heavy-metal-booming walkmenin pockets of black leather-jacketstry to attract the chic ladiesand escape from the scrubby tykes.

ROSALIN BLUE

45

STÄDTERAlfred Wolfenstein (1914)

Nah wie Löcher eines Siebes stehnFenster beieinander, drängend fassenHäuser sich so dicht an, dass die Straßen Grau geschwollen wie Gewürgte sehn.

Ineinander dicht hineingehaktSitzen in den Trams die zwei FassadenLeute, wo die Blicke eng ausladenUnd Begierde ineinander ragt.

Unsre Wände sind so dünn wie Haut,Dass ein jeder teilnimmt, wenn ich weine,Flüstern dringt hinüber wie Gegröhle:

Und wie stumm in abgeschlossner HöhleUnberührt und ungeschautSteht doch jeder fern und fühlt: alleine.


46

CITY SLICKERS

Dense as pinholes of a strainerwindows stand together, tightly seizinghouses touch so narrow that the streetslook swollen grey as strangled strangers.

Into one-another closely hookedin the trams are sitting two façadesof people, where jammed looks expand and desires loom and interlock.

Our walls are thin as skinso everyone attends me when I cryWhispers pierce across like roars:

Yet like mute in solitary vaultsUnaffected and unviewedEveryone stands far and feels: alone.

*Translation of Alfred Wolfenstein (1888-1945), “Städter” (1914),Version according to Pinthus/Menschheitsdämmerung 2001, p. 46

ROSALIN BLUE

47

SUBWAY SILENCE

Looks meet the eyeseeking,spying for secondsinto the deep– restlesslytime gapesin the train

Fear-struckpeople flinch and flee,faces derailon guardwhen touchedand dive into flash-freeze.


48

WELTENDEElse Lasker Schüler (1904)

Es ist ein Weinen in der Welt, Als ob der liebe Gott gestorben wär, Und der bleierne Schatten, der niederfäl lt,Lastet grabesschwer.

Komm, wir wollen uns näher verbergen…Das Leben liegt in aller Herzen Wie in Särgen.

Du! wir wollen uns tief küssen --Es pocht eine Sehnsucht an die Welt, An der wir sterben müssen.

ROSALIN BLUE

49

APOCALYPSE

There is a weeping in the worldas though our dear God had died.And the leaden shadow fallingweighs as heavy as a grave.

Come closer, we’ll enwomb ourselves…Life is laid out in all heartslike in a casket.

You! Hold me, and we’ll deeply kiss – A yearning is beating at the worldfrom which we must all die.

Translation of the poem “Weltende” by Else Lasker Schüler, in: Vietta, Lyrik des Expressionismus, Tübingen 1999, S. 103f


50

GROUND ZERO

Police the skyover Ground Zero:No angry God shall ever thunderbolt again!

The sky policed –prepared for war:May no-one everfly an outcry again!

Terror is suppression –far East and WestMay no just man dareto avenge the suppressed!

Police the skyover Ground Zeroso the angry Godwon’t turn around....

ROSALIN BLUE

51

PROGRESS

The sky is ablazeover GlobalvilleWhile we thirst for warmth.

Pacemakerssquandering fire away:We’re left with cropping fern frost.

The world puffs outas wesuck the icicles.

And yet to us the horizon remains bound.


52

THE CRUNCH

With a frosty graspthe crunch claspshumanity:

Money scrunchesthe free soul,squashed to ice squaredthe humane mind

Timeflows awayand no-one knowswhere it goesto waste

Cold heartsseverfrom loveand sufferwarmth withdrawal

With a frosty grasphumanity claspsthe crunch.

ROSALIN BLUE

53

HUMANKIND

Fallen – the applefrom the Mother tree– far now

We try to heavethe Earth out of its pit

Our lever a matchglowing with hope and fear

into the darkof our present tortoiseshell

this insidious trapin which the apple fell– We call it “World”


54

PARADISE LOST

The Emerald Islandof the past and the presentis lying – no futureand dying

A green mountain crumblinglike glassshattered – the dreams of the many in exile

The jade Land drowning– smashed the hopes of the brain-drain back home

Democracy sunkenby the hands of the Godswho followed the Mammon and here comes the flood:

A silent implosionwar without glovesWho will throw the first stoneon the Emerald Island –

Our Paradise – a last resortnow lying in dyingas Europe stands bywith a deaf eye:

– Paradise Lost.

ROSALIN BLUE

55

PARASITES

“My People, I see red!”the Despot shouts his threat:“All those lazy welfare-dregssquandering our valued taxWe’ll banish them and combatthose despicable offenders!Purge the useless Parasitesout of our State!”

But the actual parasiteslive off the fat like termitesThey form the frame themselvesthat guzzles up our wealth.They call us “parasites”We’re fighting for our rightsThey gamble our taxesto build themselves estates.

“Tighten up your belts!Save us!” scream the Despots from all seats in all senates“We forbid you to have wealth!”– Eat your rule, you thick Despotfattening up on our stocks!You’re the greedy Parasite –Time for you to take a diet!!


56

THE HOBO

I am the homeless man of the cityI sit by the shopfronts on the streetsThe cup before me fills less by the dayand I can clearly hear you say: “I need my funds for my family!”Yes, times are tough, but I can see:You still have more than what I need!I am a hobo on the city streets.

I’m one of the begging bums of the town.Lost my house in the Tiger’s crashthen I got ill, but no welfare for me.I’d love to work and have a home stillwith shower, my bed and a kitchenand every day a good healthy meal.But like many others I’m living roughas Europe’s demands get ever more tough.

At night I sleep on a cardboard plainor hidden under it in the rainMy shelter the entrance of a bank.From that golden hole in the wallI see people draw out millions of notesYet my cup’s fill is ever so small –And you bail out the banksters for sure!I’m just a hobo on the city streets.

My coat is ragged and brown from dirtI reek my stink against the wind,the crowds avoid to pass me closelyand no-one speaks a gentle word.But I can clearly hear you think:“Clean yourself up and go find work!”Yet no-one invites me in for a shower.There is no job for the hobos in town.

ROSALIN BLUE

57

So I’m one of the filthy bums of the cityMy skin is weathered red and roughfrom winds and rain, and itchy from the dirt and dust of the street and the cheap grub that I eat.The soup-kitchen’s queue is longer todayI’m hungry, so I join in with shame,a hobo on the sticky streets of the city.

Cold in the drizzle, clammy my clothesmy sleeping-bag is my lonely homeand only the booze keeps me warm.So my face is red, I can’t walk straightBut I can clearly hear you think:“It’s your own fault, just stop the drink!”Unaware that we’d die here without it.We’re hobos on the streets of the city.

We merely exist under politics’ eyes,luckless loosers of banksters’ greedand austerity will thrust more on the streets!We trusted in Europe and welcomed wealth,but the bubble burst from their lies and stealth.So high were our hopes, our downfall so deep!And no-one bails us out – homelessat the street-corners of so many towns.


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THE WILD WILD GALES OF EIRE

Oh the wild wild winds of Eirehow they swipe and bend the trees.And their howling has the powerlike the floods from sky and seasto enforce all life’s renewaland take out what’s bad and weak.

Oh the wild wild storms of Eireshow us all our place on Earth.So the people duck in silenceinto the rolling folds of rockas they meekly wait with patience till the time comes to destruct.

May the wild wild gales of Eiregive their powers to the pawn.May the people rise to fightshouting: “Predators, be warned!”And may none withstand our forcesuntil we have put things right.

Oh ye wild wild winds of Eirecome and cast your magic spell!Let the people of this islandsweep and soar up as a gale!May the raging storms of Eire swipe the greedy sharks to hell!

ROSALIN BLUE

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UPRISEafter Weltende (1904) by Else Lasker-Schüler

There is a waiting in the worldas if the earth would never die.

And we plumply doze in funds,weighing heavy as a gravewatching splurging wasting dumb.

Come, we want to live again,feet on the ground, spirit in the blueand the heart in the left place.

You! Lets arise. Revolt. Renew!– So for our frantic waitingour children won’t die too.


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RECESSION LOVE

Once upon a time in Eirethe Celtic Tiger held the reins,It was all awash with moneyand the sunshine beat the rains

So I came to Emerald Island,like many following their dreamsHere I found my hope and loverand a land so strong it seemed

Now I’m grieving for this countryfor its peoples’ breaking heart,for this time of bank corruptionhas broke their bonds apart

For my lover I am grievingI pray his fire will revive,for this boom of Celtic sell-outjust broke his back – his life

And I’m grieving for his lovingOur love is weeping too,for this time of hard endurance has torn our bond in two

And I’m grieving for the childrenwho feel like ripped apart,like an angel with one wing,the scar runs through their heart

For this homeland I am grieving,for my hopes and all the strifethat have brought me here to loveand to bring this love to life

Oh, I’m grieving for this countryand for all whose dreams must go,for it was this outer hardshipthat broke our love with woe.

ROSALIN BLUE

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ULTRA MODERNITY

Oh world of modern time, mindlessly uprooted homo progressivus’ feet are off the groundAlways out of breath, unswervingly pathless – shattered by velocity to the power of infinity.We’re disintegrated by the speed of progressfrantically entangled in the data-craze excess.

Homeless is the mind from heaven detacheddredging the gloom in the woe of solitudewith no light and wisdom ruthlessly unlatchedfeeble and confused in its quest to thrive.Homo rationalis to blame for segregationthe root of abjuration, inactivating life.

All is out of place when the heart is unheardBlindness of history as greed rules the world.So far from one another, hard and cold to EarthWhat we do unto us and every other being – We react like victims dispossessed and homelessand our divided downfall is abysmal, boundless.

How will this twisted raging in the world resolveif we won’t make a turn for ourselves to evolve.…


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OTHER

dim dullingdumbed speechinarbitrarilyin circus-dressingfitting into smiles

don’t look behind the mirror.it could bea different world

ROSALIN BLUE

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NO TITLE

The writer in mesticks his head out –sometimeslike nipplesor bubblesand POP –––

Gone.


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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Dear Readers,

This collection of poetry is my personal credo and message. I look atthe Earth as a living being which we are all part of. From that faithrises a heartfelt spiritual responsibility to protect and care for ourplanet. This includes to be political in the sense of “organising ourliving environment together”, and to take a critical look at whathappens in society and the world around us.

Shaping life with re-spect towards all fellow beings and the Earth is asocial responsibility to me, as much as it is a spiritual one. Maythese poems move your hearts and minds, so together we can riseand “shape life to the consciousness of Earth”.

Rosalin Blue

ROSALIN BLUE

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Some poems were published in Irish jounals and anthologies: “The OldOak” (III/3), “Religion”, “Summer Hop” (IV/1-2) in: Five Words Volumes,published annually by Ó Bhéal, Cork, Ireland 2009-12. “Religion” in:Revival Poetry Journal No.16, Limerick, Ireland 2010, p. 29. “In theStation”, “Dawning” in: An Gob Saor, A Cork Millennium Anthology,Munster Literature Centre, Cork Ireland 2000, pp. 52, 54. “RecessionLove” a video recording of the song at the Occupy Cork Protest onDecember 3rd 2011 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKV3dDdqorg

Some poems have appeared in their German versions in journals andanthologies in Germany:

Journals: “Gezeiten” (Tides), “Der Mangel” (The Crunch), “Neubeginn”(Begin Anew), in: Der Krähende Hahn Literatur-Zeitschrift, EckhardStütze (Hg.), Hildesheim, Germany 1999/2000. “Wassermond”(Water-Moon), “Neubeginn” (Begin Anew), “Über Ewigkeit” (AboutEternity), “Botschaft” (Message) in: ZwischenZeit Literatur No. 2, Hg.Roland Prüfer und Markus Meister, Hildesheim, Germany May 2001, pp.10-15.

Anthologies: “Gezeiten” (Tides) in: Dichter und SchriftstellerDeutschlands 1996. Echterdingen, Germany 1996, p. 26.“Neubeginn” (Begin Anew) In: Wir sind aus solchem Zeug, wie das zuträumen. Anthology of new German Poetry. Edition L, Hockenheim,Germany 1997, p. 39. “An die Alte Frau” (To the Old Woman) (Germanand Russian translation) in: Wenn doch die Erde sich erwärmte.Anthology of Russian and German Poetry from Gelendjik and Hildesheim.Verlag Lax, Hildesheim Germany 1998, pp. 64/65. “oder” (other) in:Frankfurter Edition, Gedicht und Gesellschaft, Jahrbuch fur das neueGedicht, Goethe Gesellschaft Frankfurt, Germany 2001, p. 724

The chapbook Suche und Ohnmacht for my thesis contains the Germanversions of the poems “Subway Silence” (Zugzwang), “Progress”(Fortschritt), “Troubled Land” (Wehes Land) and “other” (oder): SusanneFiessler, “Entfremdung und Sprachzerfall. Spuren des skeptischenExpressionismus in der Lyrik Rosalin Blues.” Praktisch-literaturwissenschaftliche Diplomarbeit im Studiengang Angewandte


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Kulturwissenschaften und Ästhetische Praxis, Fach Literatur. UniversitätHildesheim 2008; enthält Manuskript von 15 Gedichten Blues: “Sucheund Ohnmacht. Texte aus der Sprachlehrzeit, von Rosalin Blue; CD mitAufnahmen der Texte liegt bei.

Susanne Fiessler, “Dissociation and Linguistic Breakdown. Traces ofSceptical Expressionism in the Poetry of Rosalin Blue.” University ofHildesheim 2008; includes Chapbook of 15 poems by Rosalin Blue:“Search and Powerlessness. Poems from the Lessons of Language, byRosalin Blue; CD with recordings of poems included

The originals of the two Expressionist poems are published in:“Städter” (1914) by Alfred Wolfenstein (1888-1945), in: Kurt Pinthus,Menschheitsdämmerung. Ein Dokument des Expressionismus, ErnstRowohlt Verlag, (1st edition 1920), Berlin 2001, p. 46.“Weltende” by Else Lasker Schüler, first published in Die GesammeltenGedichte, Leipzig 1917. Taken from: Silvio Vietta, Lyrik des Expressionismus,4th edition, Max Niemeyer Verlag, Tübingen 1999, S. 103f

ROSALIN BLUE

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pppp


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ROSALIN BLUE

…was born in a small town near Cologne in 1973 and schooled inMünster, Germany. She has an MA in “Cultural Studies andApplied Arts” from the University of Hildesheim. Her thesiscompares a selection of her own poetry with Expressionist poetry(1910-1920). During her studies, Blue performed her poetry invarious locations in Germany and co-organised poetry readings,focussing on PR, programme design and MC.

After visiting Ireland a few times, Blue followed the vibrant liter-ary life in Ireland and came to Cork in 2000 for an internship withthe Munster Literature Centre. She was also involved in readingswith Cork Women’s Writer’s Group and Tígh Filí. Five yearslater, she finally moved to Cork with her daughter and currentlyworks as a Project Assistant at the Triskel Arts Centre, Cork.

Blue has performed in poetry readings on various occasions i.e. inthe Future Forest, at the Irish Green Gathering, on Culture Night,on International Women‘s Day and at Ó Bhéal open mike nights.She has also performed in Poetry Slams in Munster. Her poemshave appeared in Southword, An Gob Saor, A Cork MillenniumAnthology by the Munster Literature Centre, the Revival PoetryJournal and the Five Words Volumes published by Ó Bhéal. Bluehas also published some poetry in literary magazines and antholo-gies in Germany.

This collection of poetry is her first independent publication.

The Lapwing is a bird, in Irish lore

- so it has been written -

indicative of hope.

Printed by Kestrel Print. Hand-bound at the Winepress, Ireland

ISBN 978-1-909252-13-4

L A P W I N GL A P W I N GL A P W I N GL A P W I N GPU B L I C A T I O N S

BelfastLapwing

in the consciousness of earth

Documents

poem stdter

poems justice

cork style

cork bogs

autumn poem

poem weltendeby

special thanks

heartfelt thanks