'I Oedipus': video by Trish McAdam; commissioned by Clonmel Junction Festival. Music © Roger Doyle; lyrics: Marina Carr. Sung by Morgan Crowley.
1. |
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I Oedipus
Son of my wife
Sister of my
Daughter
Brother of my sons
Oh my daughter
My lovely daughter
My lonely sister
Where will it end
Sit down beside me
By the Grove of the Furies
In the shade of cypress
And the all too human
Olive branch
Let me dry
Your tears
With this
Tainted hand
This gnarled
Incestuous hand
That will ossify
Soon
In this strange
Haunted place
This no man’s land
On Citharon they
Left me
Heels bound
A squalling babe
For the jackals
And the Lions.
I still dream
Of those sounds
On the mountain
The streams
Gushing
Lambs bleating
The old gay
Shepherds
Mumbling in
Their sleep
The frozen
Infant
Naked save
The silver
Bolt
Fastening his feet
Not even
A blanket
The hillside
Strewn
With gnawed bones
A knee
A ribcage
An ankle
Who’s shoulder
Was that
Who’s clavicle
And the babe
Waiting
Choking
Feet in ribbons
Smeared in shit
Urine
Mucus
Will she never come?
What have I done?
I’ve never known
Such pain
If I survive this
I’ll survive
Anything
I’ll wreak
Such havoc
No rage
Like
The rage of
Infants
Babe of the
Crucified feet
The bolted heels
The tearing wind
Hear My savage
Song
Ah Ah.
And the shepherd
Came
Doesn’t he always
With his sheepdog
Where would the
Gods be
Without the shepherd
And his sheep
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2. |
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The silver bolt
Torn
From the bleeding
Feet
The infant soothed
On a ewe’s teat
In the crook
Of the shepherd’s arm
And time races on
abandon
You never come home
All the world’s riches
Honours
Baubles
Mean nothing
Compared with
A night
On Citharon
The ache
So ancient
The wound
So perfect
This soul’s
Fissure
No thread
No raked
Coals
Can cauterize
Or stitch
The primal
Shattering
We are God’s
Abortions
He
Didn’t want
Us
Upped and gone
He wont
Return
Would you?
And yet
And yet
As the grave
Beckons
All destruction
Done
I’ve defiled
Everyone
I could defile
And then some
And yet
Another spin
Next time
Get it right
A proper wife
My daughter
Up the aisle
Wedding gown
Blossom
In her hair
The proud father
Hands her over
Soul as clean
And white
As Easter
On Christmas night
And yet
Sometimes I think
Is it not
Rather
The taint
We’re after.
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3. |
When My Mother Died
02:20
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When my mother
Died
I thought I would
Die too
Now I
Hardly remember
Her
Haven’t visited
Her grave
In decades.
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4. |
Recess 2
02:14
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5. |
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I Neanderthal
Prince of the
Plains
I saw Eden
It wasn’t much
I saw
The tree
The gates
Rusty
But still
Intact
I saw
The triple lock
The jack boot
The size of an oak
I retreated
Wisely
God they
Were
Ugly
Whining
Puny
Pea brained
Believed in
Punishment
Right and
Wrong
The wind
Told me
Keep away
These people
Are descended
From
Rats
Without the Rat’s
Majesty
And sense
Of fair
Play
They ate
Their Father’s
Fucked their
Daughters
Requisitioned
Newborns
For the
Feast
They had
Webbed
Feet
And
Protruding
Teeth
No chins
To speak of
And moulted
In Spring
The smell
Of them
Live and
Let live
They too
Part of the
Equation
The whole
The Mystery
Speak
Why don’t
You speak?
I speak
Brother
I speak
There’s eyes
Ears
Skin
The heart
Why would
We speak
When we
Can sing?
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6. |
I Jocasta
11:47
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I Jocasta
Do you do life
Do you do loving
Have you heard
Of laughter
Even
First thing I said
To him
Bedraggled
boy
Of nineteen
Limping towards
Me
Should have known
By the heels
All said
Best I ever had
In bed
Though Laius
Not someone
You’d be comparing
Anyone to
And before him
My confused girlhood
Big hefty men
From the swamps
Who knew what
They wanted
But him
My Husband
My son
Oedipus
How can I say
This plain
Did I know it was him
I did
And then I didn’t
And then I did
Again
I Jocasta
Mother of my
Husband
Wife of my
Son
Grandmother to
My daughters
And sons
Antigone
Ismene
Polynices
Eteocles
Sons of
My son
All so
Twisted
Convoluted
Slime of
Our blood
Meshed
Then meshed
Again
The swirl
Of shame
Sent me
Spinning on
A rope
I heard my
Neck break
My heart
Long before
Laius took
My baby son
Flung him
Naked
On the mountain
Like a blind kitten
Because some dark
God of his
Had prophesized
Your son will
Kill you at
The crossroads
And rape
Your wife
Not that
Laius
Minded the Rape bit
Rape
His thing
Children
Boy children
Preferably
He
Stole
My infant
Son
From the cradle
Hammered his
Heels
Together
While I slept
When I woke
He informed
Me the
Child was gone
Dead
And when I
Protested
Flung me
Against the wall
Cracked
My head
My cheeks
My nose
Till I
Was a mess
Of pulp
And blood
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7. |
I Girl Yes You Girl
05:21
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I Girl
Yes
You Girl
Soon you’ll be one
Of the old things
Medieval bridges
Cobbled stones
Sepia postcards
Dray horses
Descendants will glance
With mild interest
Amusement
Imagine they dressed like
That
Look at those boots
The red hat
She wore a lot of
Lipstick
She wrote plays
Now out of print
That’s where you get
Your creative bent
The great great granddaughter
Will say
To her well loved
Son or
Daughter
When they want to be an actor
There is no defense
To Becoming
The past tense
A mouldy old
Photograph
Falling out of a
Spider webbed
Bookcase
A Footnote
That will never capture
How she
Thought
Suffered
Lived
Worked
Loved
Or didn’t
That they wont remember
The perfume
The cigarettes
The coffee
That she read
Ten books at
A time
And often finished
Them
That she loved wine
For a long time
And silence
And listening
To the blues
And Mahler
And hated
Endings
That one afternoon
In a New York
Eatery
Alone
She felt eternal
That she had
Been here before
That ghost lovers
Wrestled her
On more than
Three occasions
Mundane
And spectacular
Dreams
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8. |
That Her Husband
03:24
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That her husband
Was a quiet man
With eyes of blackest
Brown
That her children
Astonished her
By their
Very fact
That the break
With her Father
Broke her heart
That in October
Twenty seventeen
She gave a talk
In Montreal
That she always felt
A fraud
Talking about her
Work
That somewhere
Somehow she believed
Back of her head
It was written by the Gods
Or it wrote itself
That all she
Ever had to do
Was sit down
Hold the pen
Take a deep breath
Whisper
Here we go again
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9. |
That She Sometimes
03:09
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That she sometimes
Ran ten K in the gym
And then had to
Tell everyone
That she had a
Wicked temper
But learned
To curb it
Mostly
That her favourite
Pastime
Was staring into
Space
That she looked
Out the window
Every morning
To see what colour
The sky was
And if grey
She often cancelled
The day
Though no one
Would have noticed
That her mother died
When she was seventeen
That this was a mixed
Blessing
Despite the freedom
That she was an orphan
And liked it that way
That she was usually wrong
About everything
That she was somehow
Against every grain
Despite her best
Intentions
And even her
Worst ones
That she was soft spoken
That she had to be miked
When she gave readings.
That she lived
Long ago
That terrible
Century
That we’re not
Quite sure
Where she’s buried
Probably Offaly
Or Kerry.
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10. |
After Your Funeral
05:00
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After your funeral
As we sat
Down to
Lunch
We realised
We had forgotten
Your youngest son
Eteoceles
Found him asleep
Across the wreaths
Tear stained
Grass
Stained
I’ve lost
My life
He cried
And Cried
I’ve lost my
Life
When we
Dragged him from
Your arms
Clumps of
Daisies
Phlox
Cornflowers
Still in
His hands
At the table
He
Wept into
The soup
Nothing
Nothing
Could soothe
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11. |
My Father Your Husband
06:40
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My Father
Your husband
Your son
Chin trembling
The sightless
Eyes
The wine
Spilling
On his
Clothes
The singer
In the
Hall
Her dirge
Ah
About a
Girl from
A mountain
Limbs of
The deer
Eyes of the
Doe
That sort of
Thing
I refused to
Wear
Mourning
One day I’ll wear
Black
What would
It mean
After all this
Time
Certainly not
Mourning
My Father
Oedipus
Angry at
His son’s
Tears
Now stop
He said
Not unkindly
Stop child
But Etoceles
He cried
And cried
Ah, ah
What did
He Care
If you were
His grand
Mother
Incestuous
Monster
Who couldn’t
Tell
Her own
From another
You were
His
Mother
And you
Were
Gone.
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12. |
Transhumant
10:06
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Transhumant
Great word
The old paths
Old style
Man and
Beast
Going from place
To place
Higher ground
Valleys
Plains
The Savannah
Tripping over
Tusks
And teeth
Rust
And newels
From the
Age of Iron
Occasionally
The glint
Of some
Old burnished
Thing from
The age of Gold
When was that
Carcass of the
Whale
On Everest
Sleeping
Dinosaur
Under saint
Paul’s
Couldn’t run
When the
Primevial
Forest
Burst into
Flame
A comet
So big
It went
Through the world
Came out the
Other side
Voila
The Moon
And the gorgeous
Paly- what’s its name
To have seen one of them
Those transhumants
Will we ever be
So innocent
Again
A lone
Neanderthal
Last of its
Kind
Sat by
His fire
It was
Snowing
Butterflies
When they
Came
Blood on their
Hands
Blood in their
Gaze
Still he
Invited them in
He served up
The dinner
Like a good host
They served him
Up for
Breakfast
He never
Said a
Word
The beautiful
Neanderthal
Last of his
Species
The butterflies
Sang the
Dirge
Ah Ah
Transhumant
Licked
His lips
Raped the
Babies till the
Snow passed.
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Roger Doyle Ireland
Roger Doyle – composer, keyboardist and producer of own music, in concert and in the studio. Likes to work on large projects and to collaborate with others. Works with a multiplicity of musical languages and evolving technologies.
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