My Own Private Ulysses: In the Fickle Mind of Leopold Bloom

In the Fickle Mind of Leopold Bloom

The first trickle of women out and about:

Frothy, chocolate tickle atop Guinness Stout.

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Same tasty time, same cascading channel.

My Own Private Ulysses: Gloomsday Cannot Stay

Gloomsday:

The aphelion of Bloomsday. Coined by Senan Molony.  

Gloomsday Cannot Stay

Days give way to decay,

And December’s Gloomsday

Is a frosty midnight moon,

Far from bright mid-June.

Then fall falls, and spring does spring

From winter’s old, cold cling.

So the calendar churns,

And time’s candle burns.

But Gloomsday cannot stay,

Every day is Bloomsday.

My Own Private Ulysses: If Books Could Kill

If Books Could Kill

What if this world were flipped and books could kill? 

For real, like Monty Python’s deadly joke,            

That left the Hun laughing till he lay still,           

Man’s one-sided war would go up in smoke.                   

From old ashes, arises a killer,                       

Whose name’s the same as Rome’s Odysseus.        

Atilla, Genghis, every blood spiller,                       

All rolled into one Phoenix Proteus.                        

Ulysses’ hydra-headed arts of war:

Laugh and riddles, PSYOPS, vulgarity

All marshalled, so this invincible corp.

Kills barbarity with hilarity.

It would be such a sweet and fitting sight:      

Brave book burners, for once, in a fair fight.

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Same trench time, same charred channel.