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Kieran Long

of

Dublin, Ireland, UK

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shoah

by

Kieran Long


did heaven weep,as the train pulled into the platform,the screeching of its brakes barely audible over the screams inside,violently the doors of the carridges are ripped open,gutteral voices in different tongues scream at those inside to move,blinding lights from behind the wire cuts into eyes deprived of light blinding them momenteraly,patches of snow turn crimson as some are slow to follow,dogs strain against their leads,their bare savage teeth matching their owners,lining up,waiting in petrified silence chimney stacks can be in the distance spitting out smoke and fire,turning the sky a reddish hue,all around an acrid smell hangs and ash from the stacks falls neatly on a thousand yellow stars..


elysium

by

Kieran Long

away away ill go with you,
though neither of us know where,
cross'rivers and mountains,and crystal stream fountains,
and drink of the soft mid-night air.

to a place of no mourning,
where nighttime is king,
and light gently dances round an old fairy ring,
we'll drink of the wine that flows blood red and free,
while the sentinel like owl keeps watch from his tree.

and in the pale moonlight,the starry sky o'er,
as posideon's blue waters lay claim to the shore,
i'll hold you so tightly and soft kiss your face,
as fairys look on at this lovers embrace..

oh sun,my friend..

by

Kieran Long

i saw the sun rise this morning,
with triumphant laughter,saying "he had killed the moon",
higher,higher he rose into the sky,
flowers basked in his warmth,
mortal man thanked him and sang songs in his honour,
yes truly he was without equal,who could be likened unto him,
at his zenith in the heavens,he gazed below,
watching his subjects,knowing that without him they would not be,
but it was a lie,for already the eternal struggle was being fought,
slowly he felt himself descend,struggling with all his might to be,
he threw his last remaining embers of light across the burnt horizon,
and gazing across the way saw,rising,the moon,alive,resurrected,beautiful as ever..

a centurions tale 1

by

Kieran Long

golgotha's hill was strange that day,and you should know,
this was not your first visit,the walk through the narrow squalid streets you knew to well,
the screams of laughter,rage,anger from the crowd,
spit mingled wit blood dripping from the convicts body,

but what had this one done?,
normally that question would not even have entered your head,
so why was it there?were you a roman legionnaire getting soft?,
no, you know that was'nt it,it was his eyes,
that look he gave you as you took a rest from whipping him,
that look,not of fear,or hate,or sevility,
no,no,no you knew all those looks,no,this was different,
to say otherwise would be untrue,so what was it then,

pity,yes pity that was it,but not for himself,for you,
you felt it so strongly that you could not continue whipping him,who was this man,that had you a legionnaire of rome caught in his gaze,

a centurions tale 2

by

Kieran Long

but you would never know that answer now,
already you were standing over him,
holding down his arms as the nails were driven through his wrists,
a small board was nailed over his head in four languages,
declaring him king of the jews.

this man was no king,he did not look like one,
you heard a whisper come from his lips you spent enough time in this god forsaken land to understand him,
he kept repeating the words even as the cross was raised into place,the words echoed in your head over and over,
father forgive them,they know not what they do,

jerusalem

by

Kieran Long

The minerers call the faithful to prayer,
as the sun rises over davids city.
The morning air carries the aroma of the many diffrent faiths.
From afar,i can see the walls surrounding the city,
like a ring of stone proctecting all inside.
The steeples of church spires pierce the blue sky,
like fingers trying to reach heaven.
The steep cobbled streetslike veins,lead to "the wall",
its huge imposing stonesstand in defience to time.
Ghosts of the past are brought to life as each corner is turned.
The solemn chanting and passionate cries of prayer go un-noticed as a little girl runs through the streets,
a yellow ribbon tied to her hair chases after her..

jerusalem

by

Kieran Long

The minerers call the faithful to prayer,
as the sun rises over davids city.
The morning air carries the aroma of the many diffrent faiths.
From afar,i can see the walls surrounding the city,
like a ring of stone proctecting all inside.
The steeples of church spires pierce the blue sky,
like fingers trying to reach heaven.
The steep cobbled streetslike veins,lead to "the wall",
its huge imposing stonesstand in defience to time.
Ghosts of the past are brought to life as each corner is turned.
The solemn chanting and passionate cries of prayer go un-noticed as a little girl runs through the streets,
a yellow ribbon tied to her hair chases after her..