Frank Corcoran

irish composer

HOW WAS YOUR FILTHY NIB THIS CHRISTMAS ?

HOW THEN WAS THAT FILTHY E-NIB THIS CHRISTMAS 2006 ?

They wouldn´t even bother to write it out in a verse. eg.

” Fitzgerald, De Malster and Kyne /
Der Bishop and others of mine /
Whence their mothers and brothers? /
Their so lying Christmas line ? ”

Verse heightens, yet it failed to reach emptiness this blessed night, all our banal gifts, loving wrapping-paper industry. The Word was NOT made Flesh. It did not go into mince-meat wrapping. There was born there no cigar for The Child in a donkey´s ” here-I-bray-HEE-HAW-my -slob´s-knife-at-my-throat. ” Writing was out this Christmas. Naw. Bray a Hercules whinney .
Thus we our email had shut off for The Hovering Solstice. Whatever is felt will not be written down ; safe is only word- of -mouth in violent Bethlehem´s unstable lean-to.

Paddy De Malster plus Mine Bishop Kyne tried to sing ( both had donkey-voices, a trifle foul-smelling, ) in Sankt Petri´s chanticleer.
Paddy to Bish : ” He felt nothing ! Honest! I rooted his, too young, deep-frozen; what might Your Lordship ? ” De Bish Kyne Myne : ” Let go of that member ! He is myne, my alter ego! ”
Pet De Malster: ” Him tendering with svelt left glove, I adore Mummy “. Bishop Kyne in Christo:
“He´ll take Chemistry and Physics. Any B.Sc. degree´ll suffice for our future diocesan fiddle. ”

As it so turned out, I did fiddle at Bish Kyne´s Cheltenham funeral-games. ( How fitting: Her Majesty´s horse went berserk near the episcopal railings. )
Was it De Bishop´s or Paddy De Malster´s trickery was worse? Which? Young I was, yet devoured with justice and goose-juice at That Feast Of That Second Coming. Who sang? What was the reading ? Is now ? Will be for ever The Book of Christmas Seals. Of his , our svelt glove touching, fiddling or adoring or pawing or doing the milking – Hush! do not email ; dangerous times. Write it out in a verse:
” Pat Malt and De Bishop Mine ,
You get our pet ? – No! He´s mine!
Pull you his trousers !
Bad verse arouses! ”
For the two lambs, all innocently Chrismassy, my shattered doggerel thus:
” My Malster and Bishop won´t whine
Together, they´ve broken my spine!
Pat wheedled , Kyne needled ,
Bish fiddled , Malt fiedeld .
For me, no redemption in time.”
Or this petty nib-drivel ( awful , isn´t it ? ) :
” Paddy Fitz plus my former Kyne, Bish ,
Planned his that , then their other, now this.
One fondled his lamb,
(The other´s all sham )
Thus, between them, they´d tongue- sloughed my dish”.

Awful Christmas nib, God is not mocked in the unstable lean-to. Verse heightens not emptiness, not the wrapping-paper ( it wrapped the Child´s cigar that was not in the manger when De Bishop and Patrick Malster called by , for my heart was given to Another. ) Verse certainly heightens what ? We will.

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