Good luck Maggie Murtagh in all that you do
This life pushes you into strange circumstances a new
And we walk around thinking we know ourselves as good,
and judge others and say
look at the things I would never do
If you want my love it’s not on the table
Even though I know you are fit and able
If I let you in me you I’ll destroy
It’s back to vengeance my pretty pretty little boy
She laughs as her senses are aroused
As they dirty the sheets of the dead Lord
Because all they can get and take
is this transcendent fuck
A day, an hour, a minute, a lifetime,
take what they can
take what they can
take what they can
and leave and say
I’m Stalking the hills, Daddy, I am the Cannibal nun
And in my holster, my blood-stained hand on a Red Coat’s gun
Devouring, Stealing, and giving to the more than meek
Contempt and love confusing what I seek
You’re a killer baby
That is who you are
We don’t care for story
No prizes for your scars
You got the black skinny jeans
Horny and serene
I got the neurotic means
I’m gonna eat you up
You ain’t getting nothing for free
Everything has a cost when you’re with me
Make love make love but if you take responsibility
You’ll find yourself dating a totalitarian regime
I came down the stairs and the war was over
Mother was dead, the house was deserted
No need to look over my shoulder
So much time passed and I’m so much older
SWEET LITTLE Roisin
Never a girl of 17
A wonderkid neglected and unseen
Felt tip painting on the underside of a dream
Now she’s a propagandist machine
Born Strangled
Bed rangled
Chickens coming home to roost
Memory murky
I’m going cold turkey
To try to unshackle the
You could have been the one
you couldn’t do the choosin
You waited for love
And love led you to losin
The Germinations of The Body & Blood.
An astonishingly original piece of work performed with verve and humour by the creator. A rollercoaster ride through the story of a vigilante cannibal nun who embodies the suppressed rage and trauma of a people - leavened with sly humour and music. This work could only have come out of Belfast - and the mind of Carol Murphy. Not to be missed.
The stainless-steel scissor ice cream scoop and the rusty Stanley knife, from collar bone to gut, opening ourselves up, puncturing our lungs, then squeezing the handle, desperately trying to get the metal belt into heat, to see the piecemeal pink lung lump, (think of them as non-smokers) drop onto the floor so that they could say, “Have it. I’m done with it. I don’t want it anymore. But at least it looks good. A perfect ice cream sphere.”
Our Lord is a psychopathic surgeon in the sky
He holds all the cards and we don’t ask why
Perfection is his chain-link fence, and no one is getting by
In his LA world of gold and souls and sex on the side
Watch this space for news of up and coming live performances of The Body & Blood in The Shaft (otherwise known as Belfast), Hi!