To You, after hearing bad news.

David G O'Sullivan

She comes in the room as the sun is sneaking under the curtain

and tells me that they can’t beat her

and I believe it.

He took a free ticket to a live taping of a news program

told the country that he hates them on camera

and they should know

Even the man in the fruit market is angry

it’s hard enough to sell fruit

let alone have lunatics making it harder

I agree but I have no idea

the professor tells me I have a lot to learn and

I know it

it makes me happy

I have a lot to learn

it means years of new books and documentaries

it means going to lectures on topics I have no idea about

the wonderful feeling of listening to a new song

or seeing a new movie

or when that author touches you in the spot

(touches the spot…

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Today –things I did– day before

David G O'Sullivan

Tomorrow is the launch of my debut novel The Bomber, I can’t believe the date has arrived so soon. I hope everything goes well, I hope the book finds success.

Today I spoke to a journalist from the local newspaper and he was great one of th nicest journalists I have met. We sat in the park and it was a beautiful day, sunny, the trees were dropping leaves around us, ducks walking about the grass.

I borrowed a book of poetry from the library,

I moved some plants.

I am speaking on the radio tomorrow.

My sister sent me a gold pen she had engraved with ‘The Bomber June 24 -15’

I went for a walk past three lakes and saw that they were all full.

I watched the sun move through the pines.

I thought a lot about the book and I know it is not the most…

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Actual confessions from various anonymous people

David G O'Sullivan

1

I had been wishing for Simon Weston* to be dead for a long time. Since I was 15 years old. When he did die I was 22 and it seemed strange to me. We were the same age, he had given me a hard time in high school. I found out he was dead from the internet.

He died in a car accident on a dirt road. He had crashed into a tree. I later heard, and it might have been a rumor, that he was drunk.

He left behind a daughter who was maybe 2 years old and I thought, was it right all those when I was a teen to have wished him dead?

He left school at 16, I never saw him again. But now he was dead and I was afraid it was because of my thoughts.

*not real name

2

I saw her again…

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Moonlight swims

David G O'Sullivan

Once I get my drivers license I can go up to Rennicks Lake anytime

but for now it is too far away and I can’t afford the train ticket.

I ride my bicycle to work

even when it’s wet or when it’s cold.

The worst is the cold, when my fingers freeze and numb

on the handle bars

and the wind cuts into my face.

The best time is 6am

summer

and there are no cars

just the gentle sun waking in the east

and the streets as quiet and gentle

as any christmas cartoon

or poster image of Ireland’s pastures.

After work I spend time in the second hand shops

buying art

what I look for are oil paintings

or water colors.

But I will buy posters if they are really interesting

or well framed.

Can you imagine me

trying to get a big painting

home on my bicycle?

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Leaving home

David G O'Sullivan

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She was, I suppose is, my best friend.

She left home last week. She moved to the city.

Our last night together she made me bring over all my art books and she put on The Smiths and we listened to the music and we went through the art together. My favorite was a picture of Icarus (see pic) her favorite was a Van Gogh but I am not going to tell you which one because that is my special memory and I feel it would make it worth less if I shared it. (not worthless but of less worth).

We were in her room and she told me all the things she would do in the city, she was so excited. She would be studying art and going to the theatre and working part time in a place that sends out a lot of internet orders and she would…

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Kathy

David G O'Sullivan

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She wore a yellow dress

I love her yellow dress

it matched the sun

whose rays crept through and touched the golden skin beneath

her father did not like me

but she let me hold her hand

and walked her to Church in the fresh, newly grown, Sunday morning

All week it had rained

and I love the rain

the roads and paths were muddy

but now the sun came up like her yellow dress and revealed to me the heaven of the day.

We sat a while, not yet late for church

on the granite boulders behind the rectory

and as she laughed and placed her hand against my cheek

and said that my skin is pale and hers is honey

and how funny they look together.

She left me to climbed higher on the rocks

she shouted that as children they would play here

she asked if I could…

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Shunt stone

David G O'Sullivan

She began to take the things off the shelf one by one,

first she took the radio and flung it against the wall and it came apart in three neat pieces, it reminded me of the time at work a fellow fell into a pressing machine and had his head split open. His body lay next to the top of his head, while the middle part, the brains and the rest, lay in a messy warm pile on the floor. The radio had three parts too, the back, the middle with all the electronics and the radio’s body. The only difference was the lack of blood. When that man died, there was blood everywhere, like wine from many smashed bottles.

Next she grabbed the children’s art they had made at school.

She flung these about, pages of paintings, clay sculptures, paddle pop stick things, all thrown and smashed.

Then there…

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The beauty of Bob Dylan- Mr. Tamborine Man

David G O'Sullivan

25 Jun 1966, Paris, France --- American singer and songwriter Bob Dylan on stage in Paris. --- Image by © Jacques Haillot/Apis/Sygma/Corbis 25 Jun 1966, Paris, France — American singer and songwriter Bob Dylan on stage in Paris. — Image by © Jacques Haillot/Apis/Sygma/Corbis

Today I would like to bring some lyrics to your attention.

Mr Tamborine Man by Bob Dylan.

I have heard that this song is about a man searching out his drug dealer. The dealer is Mr. Tamborine Man. ‘Playing a song for me’ is selling a drug. “He has no place to go” referring to his freedom to get high.

This is not what I think. I think it is much more than that and at the same time nothing or what ever you want it to be. The power of a great poem is that is up to you to make sense of it.

What I think it means is not a drug users search for a high, but a man seeking more than his normal life…

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