Hibernia II
Violence Seth
Me again, lets stick w/ the last ones format.
Patrick Kavanagh was born on the 21st of October 1904 (so he'd be 'round about sweet 16 when the Rising happened, also a Libra), in the village of Inniskeen, Co. Monaghan, Ireland. His father was a shoemaker and had a small farm of land. At the age of thirteen Kavanagh became an apprentice shoemaker. He gave it up 15 months later, admitting that he didn't make one wearable pair of boots. For the next 20 years, Kavanagh would work on the family farm before moving to Dublin in 1939.
Epic
I have lived in important places, times
When great events were decided, who owned
That half a rood of rock, a no-man's land
Surrounded by our pitchfork-armed claims.
I heard the Duffys shouting "Damn your soul!"
And old McCabe stripped to the waist, seen
Step the plot defying blue cast-steel -
"Here is the march along these iron stones."
That was the year of the Munich bother. Which
Was more important? I inclined
To lose my faith in Ballyrush and Gortin
Till Homer's ghost came whispering to my mind.
He said; I made the Iliad from such
A local row. Gods make their own importance.
Kavanagh's writing resulted in the publication of some poems in a local newspaper in the early 1930's. In 1939, his brother Peter, who was a Dublin based teacher, urged him to move to the city to establish himself as a writer.
eIreland is still way way behind but at least it's not like we're dishonourable... ya know, in general.. We've been wiped by all the big chungas out there in Eurasia or Eastasia. America breaking ties with their diplomatic portal into Europe. Strange days.
I
I carry on regardless for some stupid reason. I'd like to be apart of improving this browser game that hoovers as a button link near your e-mail or whe'er it may be.. Lets have eIreland stand shoulder to shoulder with similar eNations. The eSwitzerland-folk, the eNetherlanders, the eIsraelites and of course, the crème de la crème, the land of steamed hams and inside Aurora Borealis the eNorwayish. All the small but fairly slick n' vibe eCommunities out there in eRep. Just firing from the hip here, there's plenty of chill af eNations. Except the Aussies. Born criminals. Again this is an old game, yada yada, don't blow a gasket if your eNation wasn't mentioned, queue yawn track. Here's the fancy history, a fancy aul family history spanning long long ago into the muddy past.. Since 2013 I've probably gave this game €30.00 rl dollarydoos. With the recent changes the Admins made I got Gold for simply showing up. A sum of gold I would have only dreamed about before. Now Gold = Motivation. A ridiculous paradigm.
Gimme nukes anyday. I wanna fight for my wealth alongside my fellow eIrish. I'd rather just take than snake. G*d's honest truth.
I cannae tell lies.
Hmm
That's it really..
Yer local neighbourhood Interweb Acquaintance,
Dr. Rodham Nigel Alexander "Sethesin" Spaniel Baldfishe-Zilarraego IV
P.S Ya know I reckon we Potato bois are way too honest and trusting as an eNation? Diplomacy can only be used on a captive audience, never a loose guest.
P.P.S I am not a crackpot.
ya boi
- Seth
Comments
Aussie's might be criminal's, but that means we have an excuse to act bad... plus it is bred into us to stand up to authority
It's mad to think the Aussies were once Euros. Euros that lived the vida loca so hard the 1st generation got sent to the Martian landscape of Oz. Now, having conquered the snakes, spiders and other miscellaneous monsters of the Outback what else can be said? I've nothing but respect for Aussies
and even funnier, all the Brits now want to live in Australia, when back in the day they sent convicts here.
I've never heard a bad word about OZ from returning immigrants friendo, those whom'stve returned from Australia. Any of the buchall or calleaní that I grew up w/ that went to England, Scotland, or the oher wans, they'd none of the joie de vivre. Imagine an English pub! Such sh*t craic
An interesting scrawl
An interesting comment
think there is a game called eNations. so you shouldn't use that term as it would be against the rules. although i know you probably meant something else . . game is what it is. plays nicely on any computer. one of the reasons i like it. as to game die'ing . times have changed. this is the new normal for all online games. and we may still see baby booms launched in future. The bottom of the game just needs to accommodate them. but yeah with account selling etc even they can join in the fray so to speak,
No rules on saying "eNations" in a throwaway, half-arsed article. Thanks for reading RtK o7
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but see it has another name an enation is anyway something to do with biology. ecountries is better. but anyway. to each his own.
Shhh! Don't alert the po-po
Enations are scaly leaflike structures, differing from leaves in their lack of vascular tissue. They are created by some leaf diseases. Also found on some early plants such as Rhynia, where they are hypothesized to aid in photosynthesis
Join us in another world.... PM me
I the meantime I like you log in every day but not sure why.... Habit I guess and that I have the link set as one of the pages that open when I start Chrome 😃
I'm afraid of new things WHS, this aul game has me weary 😛
Proud to have lived in town Kavanagh was from.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.
You clogged the feet of my boyhood
And I believed that my stumble
Had the poise and stride of Apollo
And his voice my thick tongued mumble.
You told me the plough was immortal!
O green-life conquering plough!
The mandril stained, your coulter blunted
In the smooth lea-field of my brow.
You sang on steaming dunghills
A song of cowards' brood,
You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch,
You fed me on swinish food
You flung a ditch on my vision
Of beauty, love and truth.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
You burgled my bank of youth!
Lost the long hours of pleasure
All the women that love young men.
O can I stilll stroke the monster's back
Or write with unpoisoned pen.
His name in these lonely verses
Or mention the dark fields where
The first gay flight of my lyric
Got caught in a peasant's prayer.
Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco-
Wherever I turn I see
In the stony grey soil of Monaghan
Dead loves that were born for me.
Patrick Kavanagh