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Rebel Birmingham

Updated: Sun, 16 Oct 2011 05:38:41 pm
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Born to Die, born to die, born to die. Say it three times as you turn anti-clockwise and await the results. It'll blow your mind. My da tried this once in Bella Cohen's night town brothel after taking a lemon scented chunk from a spiked potato. It was good to see me da enjoying himself but given that I'd been dead 11 years I was well miffed. To the howling sounds of Hank Williams I appeared to him in the height of his hallucination. Rolling around on the floor he kept banging on about a red red rose for his last dutchess. She, my ma, was in bed with a blazer of a bloke and me da needed help. Putting a ghostly hand on his shoulder I reassured him that a second Telegonian son would be born to him, in fact the seed had already been planted. One of Bella's girls would carry the soul of my reincarnation to full term and the child would be called Rebel Birmingham.
In the 1st trimester I wrote and published a Maynoothian collection of poems called 'Strange Habits'. Only 12 copies exist to this day. In the second trimester I wrote and published a Deiseian stream of conciousness piece called 'Cursed With A Brain' on the subject of sons and their fathers. This piece wasn't well recieved and all 3 copies were subsequently burned. In my final trimester I concieved of a circian methodology based on the idea that time is spherical and not linear. I was due to call this 'Never Born' and it was to be based on my experiences in the womb. Life intervened however and my mother went into labour.
Named after a mongrel collie I was raised on the northside of Dublin. Then in the early 90s I had to go into exile after a white witch told me I would kill my father. 'The father must die for the son to live' were her actual words. I know it's a big leap from one thought to another but that's why we were given an imagination. RB


Baby had a dream
Where we get out alive
Alive and living
The dream was unclear
The vision perfect
Everything would burn
All of it
Blown dusty
Across a reviving aspect

Burn because it had grown ugly
Burn because fire is the only

Baptism of rebirth

Civilisations rise and fall
People grow and fail
Dreams live forever

I'm gonna do
A like poem
And think about
My two most pressing
Weights of concern
War and suicide
As if they were
Persistent polar oppisites
In the dichotomy
Of hell on earth
One a frenzied communal effort
Bricks bombs and ballasts
The other single silent solitary
With both adherants
With both survivors
People to retell the tale
Over and over

The earth moans craters
Of molten expectation
And from it's bowels
In opposition to gravity
Another force
Ambles into existence
Not ex nilhio now
Or any of that
Simply a measure
Of spectrum
That had hither to
Failed to sparkle
For the right deal of appreciation
In wonder
The microscope calls
For a finer lens
And a closer look

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Laura Taylor

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Tue 15th Mar 2011 13:13

I also love the bio - and Hank's in there, which makes it even better!

Welcome to WOL :)

melanie coady

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Tue 15th Mar 2011 12:39

come on rebel i wanna read more ???


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Thu 10th Feb 2011 13:41

Brill Bio :)

melanie coady

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Sat 29th Jan 2011 14:06

i got drawn into ur mind there,i'd like to stay there for a while..its fascinating

Ann Foxglove

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Sat 29th Jan 2011 07:25

I think your stuff is absolutely great! I found your two blogs mesmerising.

Winston (Admin)

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Fri 28th Jan 2011 11:31

Hi Rebel Birmingham, welcome to our site - enjoy. Winston

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