evicted_from_life's Xanga

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Sun, 18 Jul 2004 00:40:19 GMT

Someone sentet me a virus....i cannot post except from the i-net cafe, which is very expensive.. my beloved gran has died ande i am making arrangements for her viewing ande wake....her will was read to me on Friday..she has requested to be buried in Eireann..

I am exhausted....someone is also trying to hack into my aol / aim...this sucks cos i'd just installed a new firewall..aol is protecting my sn ande i am calling them as soon as i leave hier cos since my hacker gave me a virus, ande is attempting to use my account, which i've just discovered by going online for the first time..

i'm very sad..too much death inside too many months this year for me..

very sad.

gina

Saturday, July 17, 2004

Sat, 17 Jul 2004 14:46:56 GMT

Gina's computer is broken, thanks to Sharifftk, so she will not be posting for awhile.

thanks shariff, we appreciate it.

David

Friday, July 09, 2004

Fri, 09 Jul 2004 04:55:33 GMT

Currently Reading: Mythic Worlds, Modern Words: On the Art of James Joyce

far from the land where her hero sleeps
she weeps while sweet lovers pass by, sighing.
but cold she turns her face from their wooing
ande weeps, for it is with him her heart is lying..

while walking the fields she sings wild songs
of her own Eireann; every note which he so
loved wakening to
shh. she reminds herself, there is no one
to take delight in her tones
how the young heart of this girl is breaking..

though he lived for his love
'tis for his country he died..leaving two
behind growing inside full
they are alle that life's left her; entwined
keeping him alive still
how the heart of this young girl's breaking

the tears she gently wipes from her eyes
are for Eireann and he who died
in defence of her;
wiping forever tears, knowing
that the tears of her country may never
be dried;

though he lived for his love, it's for his
country he died, alle that's left of him
lies sleeping in her warm womb,growin
for Eireann

how the heart of this young girl is breaking
tears falling down softened cheeks so pale
for the tears of her country may niver be dried;
not long shall his love stay behind

singing his waking song while walking the
fields to his graceful grave
she finds the place next to his own
where the sun goes down to rest
she thinks of the glorious 'morrow
wishing it to shine on his sleep, a smile
from God ;

as she lonely wanders, a wraith;
two inside her gaining breath
runs a hand through her hair ande
makes a new tune for
her own lovely Land of Sorrows
dearest Eireann.

©®gina creide-graham

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Thu, 08 Jul 2004 08:06:50 GMT

have moved to Belfast. this my new home, hidden away it is, safe ande modest.

gina is in hiding , only i know her location. And Gran...Cait she is safe, I assure you. i will only divulge what I know after Cait's wedding, when I get on a plane to her location.

I love you all...

David and Gina

Lost Lovers and Wrecked Souls.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Tue, 06 Jul 2004 14:22:20 GMT

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Tue, 06 Jul 2004 04:03:29 GMT

Currently Reading: Selected Poems =: Rogha Danta

(his love is gone
flown away with seabirds
fallen with the winds
his love's gone away
from him who was to
abandon first)

now at nights, next
to a new love's side he's restless
from dreaming of her songs; her voice soft

her kisses always pure with love and promise

she'd a voice like a starry sky
her skin softer than a dove's
ande the song that she sang
it was all about love
wehn she begged me to marry her so sweetly
asking 'please?'
in ignorance,thinking of another, a fleet fancy
turned out she;

i turned my back on my true love then
for the sake of Lady Phantom....so alluring
distracted by my plot for seducing her;
i barely heard my true love mention

"my love's drowned in the seas";
she said, "if you won't have me to wife,
though i'd be constant, true alle the days
i'll have life"'; hearing this ande
taking my pity on her i turned round
too late...

to see her outflung arms wide as, with a sigh,
she took a great leap from the cliffs
that were high to the billows so deep

heard my real true love moaning
as she was afalling
"the rocks of the sea are to be
my death bed, and the fish of the ocean
shall swim over my head, nipping at my flesh"

now as I lie seeming contentedly next to
the beautiful, but empty flesh of my Lady Phantom
i moan out my true love's name, "Cieleen!'

wehn the bells call out at six
in my memories do appear the
sweetest face in heaven ande earth
that of my truest love
my sweetest Cieleen

oh, wehn the moon's shining, ande the stars
glimmer near, clear and brightly shimmer
i see beloved Cieleen and me

two constant loves were we
thinking we'd be together for ever
rolling over ande over in each other's arms

in love with each other's charms...

till the day
Lady Phantom i did see
ande desire..
now my ire is cold
my heart taken
hostage
ande niver to be as free
as it was

than in the days i loved
my dearest Cieleen
she who died for love of me.

©®gina creide-graham

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Sun, 04 Jul 2004 21:30:15 GMT

Currently Playing: Gallery of Suicide

JAMES CONNOLLY

A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmeinhem,
With their heads uncovered they knelt on the ground.
From inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish soldier,
His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland,
The firing party he bravely did face,
Then the order rang out: "Present Arms, Fire!"
James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave.

The black flag they hoisted the cruel deed was over,
Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well.
There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning,
When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish Rebel!.

God's curse on you, England, you cruel-hearted monster
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in hell.
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel!.

Many years have rolled by since that Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia they loudly did speak.
The bold I.R.A. they stood shoulder to shoulder,
And the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville Street.

The Four Courts of Dublin the English bombarded,
The spirit of Freedom they tried hard to quell.
For above all the din rose the cry 'No Surrender,'
'Twas the voice of James Cannolly, the Irish Rebel.

@Irish @rebel @IRA

happy freedom day to America! It's our turn next!

gina

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Wed, 30 Jun 2004 23:12:20 GMT

heard his voice; its promised solace
~~komme here~~he softly called
~~leave Eireann, country of sadness
argument ande death
leave your land, for good ande all;
cleanse your hands from the blood
that stains you
ande,
from your heart withdraw from
alle wrongs that pain
ande make you suffer again and again..

leave your Land, sweet Cieleen
leave Eireann
i'll cover you in veils with yet
another name, he said
with calm deliberation~~

i raised my hands
to stop my ears from hearing
to escape the invitation

i opened my mouth to speak
i opened my heart to break
i opened my arms
softly he swooped me up...
away
away
away
from Eireann my loved land...

noble invitation
my spirit defiled
in tears...

i fall from grace
having looked once too often
upon the beloved's face...

Sunday, June 27, 2004

Sun, 27 Jun 2004 22:03:04 GMT

sing with me sad songs no more

no more sadness for kisses lost and passion stain'd
stolen sweetness bringing
to memory a life gone and new one komming
washing over my breast

music and words beautiul ande cruel
sing i no more the sad songs
of yesterday

sing my songs of freedom and rebellion
want to stop me?

then you have to kill me.

till then i'll be stepping light neath the moon

down the lanes to join
the wolves waiting in the barrens
hidden torches and smell of burning

secrets.

(1)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

sing no more the sad songs
but the songs ire ande rage
for thee i will
My Eireann

sing no more my songs of love
sweetest memories;nights spent lying
softly inside his arms watching a
star fall turning
to loves that will never age
cos death's taken them to wing
ande will it soon be us
too that'll be eternally
seventeen?

what about friende Mauvoreen
age nineteen, head bashed in
whilst sleeping in her bed

or the one boy of Belfast run down
last week by the speeding garda
he was
five?

or
two soon
in the pram

the sweetest of alle
little brighid bride ande sister
cailleach sinead?

not yet born...

(2)
---------------------------------------------------------------
two versions of the same songpoem have been written especially for the " homeland security" folks of america who now, from time to time, take liberty to read my xanga...

making of themselves an annoyance for family in New York City.

Gina, making it public here.

music and poem

singing loud and clear.

Sunday, June 27, 2004

Sun, 27 Jun 2004 02:29:24 GMT

Currently Reading: Michael Collins: The Man Who Made Ireland

Banna Strand

Unknown

'Twas on Good Friday morning,
All in the month of May,
A German Ship was signalling,
Beyond out in the Bay,
We had twenty thousand rifles
All ready for to land,
But no answering signal did come
From the lonely Banna Strand.

"No signal answers from the shore",
Sir Roger sadly said,
"No comrades here to meet me,
Alas, they must be dead,
But I must do my duty
And at once I mean to land",
So in a small boat rowed ashore
On the lovely Banna Strand.

Now the R.I.C. were hunting
For Sir Roger high and low,
They found him in McKenna's fort;
Said they: "You are our foe",
Said he: "I'm Roger Casement,
I came to my native land,
I mean to free my countrymen
On the lonely Banna Strand.

They took Sir Roger prisoner,
And sailed for London town,
And in the Tower they laid him,
A traitor to the Crown;
Said he "I am no traitor",
But his trial he had to stand,
For bringing German rifles
To the lonely Banna Strand.

'Twas in an English prison
That they led him to his death,
"I'm dying for my country"
He said with his last breath,
They buried him in British soil
Far from his native land,
And the wild waves sing his requiem
On the lonely Banna Strand.

They took Sir Roger home again
In the year of '65,
And with his comrades of '16
In peace and tranquil lies,
His last fond wish, it is fulfilled
For to lie in his native land,
And the waves will roll in peace again
On the lonely Banna Strand.

SENT TO ME FROM MY FRIENDE, PADDY THANKS! (another song about an attempt at freedom..)

SAORISE

MISE