Miceál Kearney – Browser History

Miceal Kearney LE P&W February 2019

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Browser History, poems by Miceál Kearney

Miceál Kearney; 38. Living and working on the family farm in the West of Ireland. He started writing at the turn of the century. Published nationally, internationally and extensively in his Parish newsletter. Doire Press published his debut collection; Inheritance in 2008. He read as part of Poetry Ireland’s Introduction Series in 2009. Arlen House published his 2nd collection; The Inexperienced Midwife in 2016. He also writes plays; 4 of which have been staged. In his spare time he likes to converse with vegans on Facebook about the colour blue.

Pinky Promise

After the Holocaust we made a promise to the world
in-front of every single child that we’d never forget
until 1995; circa Srebrenica – where knocks came upon
humble wooden doors as frenzied machetes wielding men
tore them all down but instead of helping the families inside
chop their spuds, carrots and eggs: the cold inanimate
sharpened steel simply sliced ‘n’ diced these people
to feed their dogs. 18 years later Yankee Doodle
birds of prey patrol the sovereign skies of their overseas
submissive states while 9 year old Pakistani children
address Congress and tell such fantastic stories
of grey, dull, overcast days: the best most perfect-est
days for them to play as those are the days
when the drones don’t fly then grown adults
all swearing to listen have their ears hardened
by Lockheed Martin.

The Paper Rain of Nine Eleven

Amid the screams and fears
on that infamous day,
paper fell from the sky.
Memos, faxes, emails…
Iron clad contracts,
pages of procedures:
in the event of –
relevant now
as logic to lovers.

Wi-Fi for Ants

How many people would’ve turned up
if the knocking of the Berlin Wall
had been organised on Facebook?

Rose Parks didn’t Tweet #sitting
though maybe she should’ve then
Zimmerman wouldn’t’ve shot Trayvon.

And thanks to that guy in Tiananmen Square
swatting that tank with his selfie stick, 29 years later
a Noble Laureate withers from house arrest.

Boudicca sure could’ve benefited
from drone technology and the Romans
would’ve lasted longer if they’d access

to Snapchat and not relied on sneakers.
We’ll always be smart and have total control
just as long as the power remains alive.

So go ahead, you hilarious hippies.
Chainmail those pedantic petitions
for the arrest of Blair or Nasty Netanyahu.

Do not let my pernicious inaction literally
stop you. Citizens Arrest, be the one
that stands up. Oh please, you’ll go viral.

Having the Talk

From behind the Connacht, bought on Thursdays
my father inquires: what’s Facebook?
It’s sort of like the paper in-front of you
but always being published. There’s different

fractals: international happenings,
national events and local goings on.
Sports, business, deaths and marriages.
Funny fluff pieces, ads and a pinch of nostalgia.

All your Friends write these posts.
It’s called social media. ‘Ah.’
He replies and resumes checking
the prices of cattle and sheep

and other articles in his timeline.


Whatever-in-the-Hell that shuffles us off
the Planetary coil. One thing leads to another,
you know how stories evolve and hey presto –
it’s 1855 N.T (New Times). The main religion
based on a book found in the ground:
The Church of Hogwarts. The various Houses
make up the other sects with Slytherin,
of course, being the Protestants.
Translations can be accurate.

Then someone in a bog will happen upon
a strange and mysterious device. Rectangular.
Hinged. Inside: rows of Runes and Glyphs.
A smaller, worn rectangle below it. Would they
be scared as their faces are reflected
in the black mirror like surface? May the Great
Muggle protect us. Rumours will swell.
Fervent speculation, what does it mean?

Everyone will want to get a clear
view through this window into the past.
But Top Men will have first cement.
What criteria will be used to reference,
determine fact from Gilgamesh?
Who was Google and the Great Gospels
of Microsoft Word? That now sheds new
Twilight on the legitimacy
of The Sorting Hat impregnating

Professor McGonagall. Translations
can be tricky. While the Big Blue F
and the Blue Bird will tell them tall tales
of a lost race of people called the V-gans
and their love of milk. This out of place artefact
will then officially be named
after the 3 that discovered it.
Larry Dead, Curly Sea and Moe Scrolls.

©Miceál Kearney