I Am Not Yet Born; O Hear

World Is Crazier And More Of It Than We Think, Incorrigibly Plural. I Peel And Portion A Tangerine And Spit The Pips And Feel The Drunkenness Of Things Being Various.

You Know The Worst: Your Wills Are Fickle, Your Values Blurred, Your Hearts Impure And Your Past Life A Ruined Church-- But Let Your Poison Be Your Cure.

It's No Go The Picture Palace, It's No Go The Stadium, It's No Go The Country Cot With A Pot Of Pink Geraniums. It's No Go The Government Grants, It's No Go The Elections, Sit On Your Arse For Fifty Years And Hang Your Hat On A Pension.

Today I Am So At Home In Dublin, More Than In Any Other City, That I Feel It Has Always Been Familiar To Me. But, As With Belfast It Took Me Years To Penetrate Its Outer Ugliness And Dourness, So With Dublin It Took Me Years To See Through Its Soft Charm To Its Bitter Prickly Kernel - Which I Quite Like Too.

Better Authentic Mammon Than A Bogus God.