Merry Christmas from The Mad Dalton

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Reclaiming Symbols: An Outsider’s Approach To Writing In Belfast & The Emerald Isle

Delivered To An Open University Conference On Contemporary Writing In Northern Ireland/Ireland, Saturday October 15th 2011. Firstly, I’m honoured at having been given the opportunity to speak about something that everyone who has gathered here today, is clearly very passionate about and that is creative writing in Ireland/Northern Ireland. I’d like to thank Heather Richardson […]

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‘The Dogs Of Derry’

Words & Music By Peter Sumadh (Version submitted as a proposal to the ‘Derry City of Culture 2013’ ) Verse: Male Voice The Dogs of Derry are howling The Dogs of Derry are mean & my love wants to go to her home & I don’t know What it’s like, ‘cause I’ve never been… Female […]

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Antoine Noel Corege – The Story of Leptis Magna

It was in a Bathurst St rooming house in downtown Toronto over the period of several months before the millennium that I shut myself away to assemble and complete a series of poems that I had been working on. One of the poems from that time was ‘Leptis Magna’, a poem that had gestated over […]

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Little Belfry

1. The nuns threw you out of piano school They couldn’t play by your rules Sometimes you’re put in your place You know when you’re falling from grace Some wait to talk, while some stop to listen, You look in their eyes, all you see is a prison 2.  Honey’s still stuck to my sleeve […]

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A Cruel Trick

Visiting places to which I felt I can never return is not a habit I’m accustomed to, I promise. However, my last trip to my Aunt and Uncle’s village in Scotland where I myself had once lived, I found myself suffocating in the familiar quaintness of their grand home. I had sat chatting with them in the kitchen all morning. The AGA like some great white monolith kept the temperature of the quaintness at just the right level of overbearing constancy for me. My pores had now opened up and were screaming for a blast of fresh air.

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Intoxicating The Public Auction

Writing about something that’s wrong, is surely just a matter of writing about personal taste right? I mean some things are very obviously wrong: paedophilia, murder, rape and in Belfast, the sight of teenage mothers walking in unison to the shops in their pyjamas in the middle of the day.

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The Young Lovers

Cruelty, deviancy, debauchery and depravity, that’s what lies at the heart of every man, at least that’s what I’ve always been inclined to believe especially after all that’s happened. It’s hard not to when you see what’s going on in the world today, but I don’t think I’m like that. Cruelty breeds bastards, deviancy breeds rebels with no respect for authority, debauchery breeds cheats and with depravity they’re guaranteed to end up as psychos. Give me all four and you’ve got the makeup of a killer or at least something not too far off. Then again, I’ve never met one so who am I to say?

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Leptis Magna

When I was young,
there was a house I knew,
towering & full of brick,
on an upscale, uptown street,
different from all the rest,
w/a yard surrounding all it’s imposing facades,
like a castle moat
w/ no drawbridge.

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Forth

In exile complete,
I watch from a cove
perched on the edges of a firth,
as ripples elongate & wain
‘til blown through the rain & passway.

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