MARCH 17TH, 2014
I think I won’t celebrate this year,
Being from the “orange” isn’t as dear…
As politically more correct green,
Though both on the flag, time has seen
To inflict the orange with fear.
I used to wear both orange and green
Socks under trousers unseen…
And then make a show
Of letting folks know,
I was colorfully in the scene!
It’s not about girls, beer and bread,
Or wearing green hats on the head…
There’s history here
For which was dear,
Many sacrifices now dead.
Irish propaganda, the same,
Some vehicles for Sinn Fein…
And the I.R.A.
Currently at bay,
Revenue from this day did obtain.
British deliberate attempts
To institutionalize contempts…
Ethnicity and faith
Commandeered for the State
To keep native peoples as meant.
And yes–I’ve drunk green beer–
Eaten soda bread with cheer…
Traded red for green,
British red was obscene
To Irish Catholics here.
Having ancestral blood in all three,
It’s increasingly hard for me…
To willingly be silly
On a day warm but chilly,
With conflict blood inside of me!