Mad Ireland Hurt You Into Poetry.

All I Have Is A Voice To Undo The Folded Lie, The Romantic Lie In The Brain Of The Sensual Man-in-the-street And The Lie Of Authority Whose Buildings Grope The Sky: There Is No Such Thing As The State And No One Exists Alone; Hunger Allows No Choice To The Citizen Or The Police; We Must Love One Another Or Die.

A Shilling Life Will Give You All The Facts.

By Mourning Tongues The Death Of The Poet Was Kept From His Poems.

Music Can Be Made Anywhere, Is Invisible And Does Not Smell.

And None Will Hear The Postman’s Knock Without A Quickening Of The Heart. For Who Can Bear To Feel Himself Forgotten?