NOV-DEC 04 / VOL. 5 ISSUE 4
This Month's Poem

 
 
 
Whirled-ah-whind!

Whirled-ah-whind! (Whirlwind)
Whirl-ee-Gig! 
What in de name uv GUD iz Yew?
Maigh-Yew. (Mayo)

The Yew T'ree fell'oats (floats)
Upon dah Zee 
Uv Ing-gull-ish Um Pire-rahcee (Of English Empiracy)
Zo latelee Brott two splat. 

Und now itz all Amerreekay
Yah do it Owerr way
Or no wayz atall
Waz go anon?

Hay youse? Duz ye gotz de newz?
Iz unt ye nut ah-muzed? 
Iz ye nut Kung-fuzed?
Fewk-et ur Newk-et? 

Zo Guds a beeg Kommeedee Ann!
Kant get iz jollees offen nuff
Wit out de human illey nation
Uf all uv us pur Immee Tations? 

— James (Seamus) Casey

Poet James Casey says: 

Hey youse guys–I has been doing poetry among udder t'ings since 1957–youse-you-ell-ee in duh oral tradition. Witch meens dat Eye pade mur attenzun to reedin' poe-ah-tree den publishin' it.

Me fadder waz a hurett-ah-tary shahan-ah-key, und eye huv been gibben de noose tah spall it among ye peens.

Fadder forgiv me fer the mis-spellings as I have overcum me word-fascist upperlowerbringining to real-ah-lize dat de Inglo Langwo iz a poe-etts de-lite.

Ya see da Gael-lick schtick haz two much badd car-mick-maher--despite itz aunt-tiquitee---yah know! stuff-like-dat! De Potes tuk adavantage uv de systern und got burn-ded. Sew de grate subaru muse god-essences-all-dat-iz sed: "Hey greenblew white b'hoy we iz ah goin' ta gib dah power to a new L-ing-wich whats got sum new zounds und maken youse b'hoys alla-mosta obsoleta-gone. Youse donna spred dah newz, yew justa hida it in yur seekrut derryoak places und nobuddy gets tah get da gist. Zo! Annie Ways. Hear iz a pome fer toaday. Iffin ye wantz me ta right a colum, ida be hapee two. Ifin not, den sum buddy elsa iz gonna be fame us. Gotcha!

So/Zo? The Bard called Shakespeare invented over 600 new words into Inglish. It is not hebrew, greek, etruscan, latin or gaelic. It is an eater of languages. I have retired and will volunteer to destroy all images of the written word as i am the son of a hereditary shanachie from an oral tradition. Irish Catholic Sisters and Christain Brothers brutalized me for the power I uttered. 

I must maintain the power of the spoken word! The written word is an orphan and almost an anathema to me, but not quite. I am not one to punish the abandoned. I admit I am mad unlike no other. 

Will yew be the first to unleash the madness of the accumulated dross of centuries curled up in my Celtic mind? If not yew and yewers will cry and beat yer breasts that ye had abandoned the primal whind of all of our families upon all of the plains upon all uv the times und all of de Udderwhirls! Let Casey be Ferree! Let hiz minda Goe T'ree ind duh Mew-zizz Rev-er-ree! 

Poet Casey can reached at caseymcpoet@att.net.


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 


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