The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Sunday, October 01, 2017

the abomination of desolation

In the foot hills of heaven there's a rocky path that is pleasant to hike along.
The air is fresh here and the light looks a bit like the Summer of 1976.
The views are rather good too.
Every prospect pleases.
Tree lines, and ridges, and cool arbours, and rocky outrcrops, and here and there sudden surprising meadows with the grass up to your knees.
The setting is like the backdrop for one of Terence Malik's better filmic set pieces, only sort of effortless and not so self conscious or pretentious, and without the fear of any dissonant castings of Richard Gere showing up to mar things.
I found a field and sprawled in it.
The grasses sighing ever so gently.
Presently Jesus came by.
"Don't worry," he said, "she's with me."

Saturday, September 30, 2017

building jerusalem

Chatting with Farmer Jones.
"Where did you go when we went into the church?" quoth me.
"I didn't want to sit near you," answereth he.
"Why not?"
"To be honest, it's all that hand waving and Hallelujah-ing you do. You should stop that."
The noble Heelers found himself a bit nonplussed.
"Seriously?" sez me.
"I hope you don't mind me telling you," sez he.
"No, no, be frank."
"You're doing too much of it. It's drawing attention to yourself. It's like you're saying: Look at me everybody. What are you trying to prove? Do you think you're better than everyone else? Give it a rest. It's all too over the top. It's like you're putting on a production."
"Okay, you can stop being frank now."
Later that evening, in a state of some bemusement (Ireland), I betook myself to the house of Uncle Scutch.
I told him what the agricoleur had told me.
Uncle Scutch said: "He's right."
I was stunned.
Under the weight of a grand mal I exploded: "He's right?"
"Yes, he's right. What do you think you're doing?"
"Showing joy. The Catholic church is a joyful place. A house of worship. Our Father's house. It's where we celebrate. Or did Fine Gael pass a law? Is joy a crime now? Did some fembo declare that joy makes her feel inadequate? Heavens to Murgatroyd. I can't believe you'd be against praising God whatever way the Spirit led."
"You're the only one doing it."
"No I'm not. You want to see African Catholics. They go absolutely nuts."
"You're the only one doing it in Kilcullen."
"Our Protestant brothers and sisters do it."
"I've never seen a Protestant do it."
"I don't mean the ould hare baither abortionist Prods you'd be hanging out with. I mean ones that actually believe in God."
"And where do you see those?"
"Er, in America, on TV."
"We're not ready for it James."
"Not ready for joy? Not ready to pray with a full heart? Not ready to jejoice in the lamb?"
"Let me put it this way. You're a little bit ahead of us. A little bit too far ahead of us."
"But isn't our church dedicated to welcoming all God's family. Isn't that what the Catholic church is? Aren't we all a family? Expressive ones. Quiet ones. Soulful ones. Noisy ones. Silent ones. Young ones. Old ones. Single people. Families. Singers. Orators. Mystics. Lads who wave their hands and give plenty of welly to the Hosannahs."
"Not yet. It's too soon."
"But I've been doing it for years."
"I was hoping someone would tell you eventually."
Long after midnight I betook myself to a neighbour's house.
The neighbour is a bit of a sage.
I recounted the advice of the other two.
The sage scratched his head thoughtfully and said:
"Well I was with you in church a couple of weeks ago. And I did wonder. I'm not saying anything against what you did. But I was wondering."
"You were wondering what?"
"I was wondering: Are people going to think he's with me!"
As we chatted I flicked through the channels on the sexevision.
I alighted on a Christian preacher's channel.
The preacher was saying: "When my wife and I set up this channel, we were both in our early twenties. One of the most respected pastors in America came to visit us. And afterwards he told someone: There's no way those two kids will be able to run a television station. He was a holy man. A good man. And here we are decades later broadcasting around the world. I say to you: If you have a word from God, and even if holy men tell you not to do it, you keep listening to God. You hold on to that word."

Friday, September 29, 2017

bleak heart

a boy stands in a field above the town
he does not know what the years will bring
dark night touches him and the rain
his spirit leaps in his imagining

a man writes at table in the dark
he wonders of all things what we are
spirits creatures matter worse
pitched forth comets about a dying star

tell me if all time is one time
and what is was and will be
was the boy already corrupt as he looked upon the town
am i already dead as i write

Thursday, September 28, 2017

star trek 8 into farceness

Sulu: We're entering the neutral zone.

Kirk: Why is it called that?

Sulu: Because people who enter it often suffer deep seated neuroses.

Kirk: Ah. On account of the high intensity radiation belts.

Sulu: No. From getting shot at by Klingons.

Kirk: Shouldn't we call it the the neurotic zone then? Or the Kingons are gonna get yah sucker zone?

Sulu: The Kingons are gonna get yah, the Klingons are gonna get yah... That's by Gloria Estefan isn't it?

Chekov: Power failure on decks seven through nineteen Captain.

Kirk: Calm down Chekov.

McCoy: Sickbay here Jim. Life support dropping to twenty percent. Any lower and we all die.

Kirk: Steady Bones.

Spock: Ship's computer is suffering massive interference from an unknown source, Jim We risk losing all control over our course.

Kirk: You worry too much.

Uhuru: The fridge is broken.

Kirk: Red Alert! Switch on all those sirens that let us know it's time to panic.

Sulu: Noooooooooooooooooo.

Kirk: You don't like Red Alert? Or is it my after shave?

Sulu: It's not you Captain or the Red Alert. But the fridge. Good heavens, without a fridge, we'll, we'll, we'll... we'll have no bananas. We'll have no bananas for tea.

Kirk: Spock get an engineer to work on that fridge immediately. No, not Scotty. Someone who speaks a dialect we can understand. Why does everybody keep bringing these problems to me anyway?

Chekov: Klingon bird of prey decloaking off the starboard bow.

Kirk: What does she look like?

Chekov: It's a space ship Cap Teen.

Kirk: Oh. Again.

Uhuru: Do you want me to hail the Klingons Sir?

Kirk: Open a channel Lieutenant.

Uhuru: Hail Klingons. Hail noble Klingons. Sweet, sweet Klingons. Hail, hail, kindly, nice, cutesey pie Klingons.

Chekov: They're firing on us Cap Teen.

Kirk: I don't blame them. Still. It was worth a try... Uhuru! Whenever we encounter Klingons from now on, never do that again. Engineering, give me warp factor five, now Mister.

Scotty: She'll nae take it Cap'n.

Kirk: Does anybody know what he's saying?

Scotty: Ach, if ye poot any more seltzer in the spritzers, she's gonna blaw.

Kirk: Scotty if we don't get warp drive, there will be no Christimas party this year. Well. I mean. There'll probably be a party. But we won't be there.

Scotty: There's nothin I can do Cap'n. Ye dinnae ken.

Kirk: I don't understand you. What's ye dinnae ken?

Scotty: You don't understand.

Kirk: That's right. I don't understand.

Scotty: Ye dinnae ken.

Kirk: What do you mean?

Scotty: You don't understand me. Ye dinnae ken.

Kirk: Yes, but what does that mean?

Scotty: You don't understand.

Kirk: Who's on first?

Gorak the Destroyer: Surrender to the Klingon empire or die like a dog in the neuro zone.

Kirk: Who said that?

Uhuru: It was the Klingon commander Captain/

Kirk: Fuggoff. Not you Uhuru.

Gorak: What is your answer Kirk?

Kirk: Must play for time. Er. Talk to Scotty. He's on First today. I mean in command.

Gorak: Surrender or die.

Scotty: Och, hwaeee thee noo wee slickit cowerin timorous Klingonee.

Gorak: Seriously?

Kirk: I know. I have to put up with this all the time. It's very stressful when our lives depend on quick thinking and rapid communication under fire.

Spock: (In a low voice.) Captain I think if we reversed the polarities on the photonic beam emissions from our transporter system and directed them towards the warp coils on the Klingon vessel it would overload their reactor systems while simultaneously causing their shields to drop and their cargo of Muslim hamsters to self detonate.

Gorak: Hey I heard that.

Muhammy: So did I.

Kirk: No time Spock. Sulu, activate the positronic alpha particle array.

Sulu: The what in the where now?

Kirk: The blue button. Just push the blue button. That one right in front of you. It's our only hope. And it's the only button on the console we've never pushed before.

Gorak: I'm still inexplicably waiting.

Sulu: This blue button?

Kirk: Yes. For crying out loud.

Sulu: I'd say it's more purple than blue.

Kirk: Purple?

Sulu: Purple. Or mauve.

Gorak: This is your very last warning Kirk. Don't make me come up there... Maybe if I do a dramatic countdown, you will realise your predicament. Yes a countdown. That will really scare you. At least it will scare you more than the threat of imminent destruction seems to be doing. You have ten seconds Kirk. Nine, eight, seven...

Kirk: The blue button Sulu.

Sulu: I still say it's purple.

Gorak: Six, five, four...

Kirk: Alright I'll push it myself.

McCoy: You can't do that Jim.

Kirk: Why not?

McCoy: Health and safety regulations. Also union rules. And in modern space wars you need to take legal advice before opening fire on anything or pressing any new buttons. There could be civilian Klingons on that ship. And think of the hamsters.

Gorak: Three, two one!

Kirk: This is tense. Sulu, the blue button.

Sulu: Purple Captain. Violet at best. You might even call it magenta. Oh alright.

Spock: The Klingon ship has been destroyed Captain.

Kirk: Remind me to use that blue button more often Mr Spock.

McCoy, Sulu, Chekov and Spock: (relieved) Ho, ho, chuckle, chuckle, ha, ha, heee, heee, ho.

Uhuru: I don't ken.

Kirk: Oh buy an ankle length skirt why don't you. I'm sick of looking at your magnificent silken clad thighs. And get back to work the rest of you hogs.

Wednesday, September 27, 2017


The Irish sports commentator Jimmy Magee has died.
He was most famous for the television programme A Question Of Sport which he presented for many years with another commentator called Jorge Hamilton.
A Question Of Sport was built around the conviviality, humour, affection, bonhomie and genuine warm heartedness of both its presenters.
I always had the slightly unsettling feeling whenever I watched it, that they utterly despised each other.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

no truth in the rumour

There's no truth in the rumour that sleazoid director Abel Ferrera is to make another in his Bad Lieutenant series of low rent porn and violence films to be entitled Bad Pope... No hang on...

Monday, September 25, 2017

the heelers diaries in italy

Wandering through Rome's Protestant Graveyard.
Still looking for the Keats grave.
Occasionally I stop to talk to the cemetary cats who recline on tomb stones here and there
A sign appeals for donations for the care of the cats.
A black kitten mews appreciatively as I donate 50 Lira.
I call her Bella Catta as I call them all.
One of the animal carers, a girl of teenage years, passes by smirking. She sports a tee shirt that states: "Sono troppo sexy per lavorare."
I am guessing this means: I'm too sexy to wash.
The thought amuses me mightily.
The cats are great though.
Ahead of me a man of hippy mien and his woman are searching through the underbrush.
"I think this is Keats," he says to her in American accented English, pushing back the fronds of some blue flowering plant to expose a slab.
The stone is near a secluded corner of the graveyard.
Its epitaph announces:
       "Francis Darcy Godolphin
            KCMG, KSTJ, KCSG,
       12th and last Duke of Leeds
         Minister to the Holy See
           London 16/9/1884
            Rome 20/3/1964"
The hippy guy drops the skein of bramble back over the stone.
"It's not him," he exclaims.
He and his girl hurry away.
I drop to my knees and say a prayer for Francis Darcy Godolphin Osborne.

confucius he say

Those who are aborting the unborn, euthanising the elderly, assisting other age groups to suicide, murdering nascent human beings in test tubes in order to generate nascent human beings in test tubes (they kill ten for every one they create), and systemically violating life in genetic experiments, are not just atheists.
They are atheists and they are ahumanists.
They do not believe in God.
And they do not believe in humanity.