RSH. Riding Rough Shod. 4.10.25
By Randall Stephen Hall
By Randall Stephen Hall
A nuanced approach in our Belfast street signs is required, where the difference between perceived “introduction” and “imposition” is huge, with benefits or lost opportunities for both.
I’m all for these new signs but there are those who are not. Where education, combined with friendship and vision beyond politicical arguments would help us all in the long run.
Here is another poem, like a leaf in the stormy winds. As the judge said “We have stopped killing each other. But we haven’t got much further”. I paraphrase . . .
If we just ride roughshod
Over our neighbours
In our quest for liberation
For Irish language and culture
We are merely repeating history
Rather than making history.
The shared languages and words
That denote our Belfast streets
Is a good thing.
But be aware that sharing is not winning
Competition is not giving.
Taking is not living
Beside your neighbour.
I live for the day
When there are no political parties.
When we no longer have to be arty crafty
Or arty farty.
The party line above which we float
Puts us all on a raft, together
Where, I think, hope floats.
But the stick in the muds
Will never change fast.
With hate in their hearts
And themselves up their ass.
For the words on our streets
Will never change much.
For all of the Gaeilgeoires
It’s a bit of a crutch.
A shining wee victory
The enemy pricked.
Like wood cern guerrillas
It could make you feel sick.
For the fighting continues
Concessions avoided.
Compassion in locked safes.
Just saved up and hoarded.
For the words on our tongues
For love and for hate.
A greenaway to friendship
Or a battered locked gate.
Where we cannot meet up
To share all of these sounds
Where they keep us apart
And love’s underground.
Create a mound of intent
Just like the Giant’s Ring.
Where people walk dogs
Where children can sing.
Where the seasons all turn
like the spokes of a wheel
And the ways we engage
Will make us all heal.
www.randallstephenhallsongs.
A northern Irish artist
AKA. Dangerous Banana.
Photos on the edge of Ballynahatty
Where I was taken as a child.
I’m all for these new signs but there are those who are not. Where education, combined with friendship and vision beyond politicical arguments would help us all in the long run.
Here is another poem, like a leaf in the stormy winds. As the judge said “We have stopped killing each other. But we haven’t got much further”. I paraphrase . . .
If we just ride roughshod
Over our neighbours
In our quest for liberation
For Irish language and culture
We are merely repeating history
Rather than making history.
The shared languages and words
That denote our Belfast streets
Is a good thing.
But be aware that sharing is not winning
Competition is not giving.
Taking is not living
Beside your neighbour.
I live for the day
When there are no political parties.
When we no longer have to be arty crafty
Or arty farty.
The party line above which we float
Puts us all on a raft, together
Where, I think, hope floats.
But the stick in the muds
Will never change fast.
With hate in their hearts
And themselves up their ass.
For the words on our streets
Will never change much.
For all of the Gaeilgeoires
It’s a bit of a crutch.
A shining wee victory
The enemy pricked.
Like wood cern guerrillas
It could make you feel sick.
For the fighting continues
Concessions avoided.
Compassion in locked safes.
Just saved up and hoarded.
For the words on our tongues
For love and for hate.
A greenaway to friendship
Or a battered locked gate.
Where we cannot meet up
To share all of these sounds
Where they keep us apart
And love’s underground.
Create a mound of intent
Just like the Giant’s Ring.
Where people walk dogs
Where children can sing.
Where the seasons all turn
like the spokes of a wheel
And the ways we engage
Will make us all heal.
www.randallstephenhallsongs.
A northern Irish artist
AKA. Dangerous Banana.
Photos on the edge of Ballynahatty
Where I was taken as a child.
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