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The Us’s
Down the docks
Raves and apartment blocks
The fruit machines and slots
On boats named after poets
The Us’s are boarding
On the Air Coach from Cork
Or the Go Bus from Galway
Or at Limerick Junction wondering if snaiceanna is really an Irish word The Us’s are travelling
On their way
To get abortions
The Us’s
Right now, there’s a couple in Dublin Airport
Wheelie case and Xanax
Going back to his ma’s gaff
The biscuit breaking off in the cup of tea
Her favourite mug
It says Fair City
She won it in a competition on RTE
Done with shame
Finished with guilt
Goes to bed
Electric blanket
And the continental quilt
The Us’s
In Malahide today
A Citizen’s Assembly
Voting for bodily autonomy
Saying Ireland is a pro-choice country
The Us’s
We’re constantly being told by politicians about ‘middle Ireland’
Polling and tolling mysterious conservative bells
Resistent to change
Scared of progress Here. Dáil Eireann, stop describing yourselves
I’m
Saint Vincent appalled
By responsibility dodging in the Dail
It’s over, no more, no way
Because, well, what are nuns doing with multi-million property portfolios anyway
Tonight, we are the Us’s
We are the black jumpers and fist bumpers
The marching drum thumpers
The megaphone wielders
The friends and families who won’t wait
Who shout
Not the Church not the State
Women must decide their fate
The Us’s
We are middle Ireland
We are the coasts
We are the cities, the villages, its children, its ghosts
We are the grannies, and farmers, and students
We’re on the dole
We’re earning loads
We’re scraping our rent together
We should've never taken out that loan
We’re married, we’re divorced
We’re up again in the courts
We’re late for school
We’re early to rise
Walking fields
Opening the shop
Planning the wedding
We’re regretting last night’s shots
We’re at the gym and in the boozer
We don’t know why the dog’s scared of the hoover
The Us’s
We are Young Offenders
We’re Adams and Pauls
We don’t have a breeze what’s going on in the Dail
We slept with the wrong person
We wrote Bobby Sands on a toilet door
We’re caring for our parents
We’re wondering what she’s looking at me for
We’re on the guest list
We’re not getting in
We keep our few bob in a USA biscuit tin
We’ve got tea on the range
A booster seat in the Range Rover
We’re sleeping in doorways
We’re raging The Good Wife is over
The Us’s
We’re training year round
We just started yoga
We’re getting Dine in for Two
We got a class selfie at the Cliffs of Moher
The Us’s
We’re in bits cos our best pal killed himself
We’re on Tinder worrying we’ll be left on the shelf
We’re up at dawn making Christmas cake
We’re giving out about Snapchat fakes
We’re in the petrol station glancing at the papers
We’re in a wetsuit at Grand Canal Dock
We’re in Coppers wondering if there are any takers
We’re selling hats, scarves and headbands
We’re working out our Australia plans
We need to get the roof fixed
We’re on a hospital waiting list
We’re going to find out which neighbour’s dog keeps shiting outside the door
We’re at our daughter’s Holy Communion wondering what we’re crying for
We’re at a parent-teacher meeting
We bought off the plans
We’re down the canal with a bag of cans
The Us’s
We need a new laptop
We’re getting our nails done
We want Wenger out
We wish daft.ie had a comment section
We’re sick and tired of the Luas works
We had our bike nicked
The strike was on so we walked to work
The Us’s
We’re pucking sliotars
We’re buying Rihanna’s Puma slippers
We’re at the Ploughing
We’re writing code
We’ve just discovered a potato wedge roll
We’re going home locked and listening to A Woman’s Heart
We are in the change about to start
We’re rolling pinners
We’re biting quarters
We’re yer ma
Yer man
Yer wan
Your daughter
The Us’s
We’re here
On cobblestones made smooth from marching
Knowing what kind of republic we want to be
Jaded from smoking section bants and debates on TV3
And if you’re angry that’s ok
Use it
Channel it
Get your canvassing boots ready
The Us’s
The Us’s will
Do away with Direct Provision
Dismantle poverty
The Us’s know that gay marriage doesn’t matter unless it’s part of broader social change
The Us’s aren't afraid
We’ll have the barneys
And from that rubble
Build a shelter we can all stand under
The Us’s
We are The Goonies in the well
Saying this one right here, this was my dream
Know that it will come true
Don’t doubt that just a few can change the world
It’s the only thing that ever has
But it won’t just be a couple of campaigners who’ll see this through
It’s you, your mam, your dad
the Us’s
Because what you’re feeling tonight
When you look around
Is when you realise so many strangers are on your side
The Us’s
We’ll be in Dublin Castle
On another sunny day
Screaming GWAN IRELAND
GO WAN THE US’S
This is our time, tonight, today.
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On January 13th, 2017, Come Rhyme With Me becomes Come Repeal With Me at DANCE FOR CHOICE at the Tivoli Theatre in Dublin. REPEAL PROJECT x MOTHER x DISTRICT 8
We will be presenting a rapid fire show of spoken word performance and music featuring...
TARA FLYNN JOANNE MCNALLY PETTYCASH MAYKAY JOHN CUMMINS + more The Facebook event is here. We’re on first, doors are at 10pm.
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In June, we brought Cumann Rhyme With Me to Body & Soul, performing on the Wonderlust Stage.
Vickey Curtis and Una Mullally, in association with OutHouse, present Cumann Rhyme With Me. A plethora of poets, performers and provocateurs come together to ignite and inspire for your pleasure. We are rapscallions riffing on rising up, roaring and rebel-yelling about what our freedom is all about. Cumann Rhyme With Me is the centenary edition of the queer spoken word happenings, Come Rhyme With Me, this time with added rebellion. May contain traces of revolution, ranting, and nuts.
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We held a Come Rhyme With Me one off SUP’RISING special in our house to commemorate the 1916 Rising.
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On Monday April 11th Come Rhyme With Me is presenting CUMANN RHYME WITH ME a celebration of women, rebels and revolutions.
We have some spectacular talent lined up for you.
Oisin McKenna
Sian Ni Mhuiri
Caoimhe Lavelle
Alicia Byrne Keane
Roisin Agnew
Niamh Beirne
Christy Gaffney
+more
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Vickey is presenting her work in progress, Finem Respice (consider an end) as part of the Scene + Heard festival at Smock Alley, on Thursday February 25th 2016.
Have you ever loved and lost, and lost again? Finem Respice (consider an end) is an exploration of grief and how death affects life. It is an insight into bereavement and being bereft. This is a story of the struggles and the strife that we all face. This is about living through death.
You can find out more about the festival here -> https://tr.im/RtxrU
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Happy New Year!
Bring on #TheRising
Here’s a photo of Vickey repping Come Rhyme With Me and doing her thing at the recent Yer Only mBan event at the Smock Alley Theatre for Nollaig na mBan.
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Thanks to the Irish Times Women’s Podcast for featuring I Got The Seanchaí, I Got The Secret on the podcast. You can listen back to some recordings of some awesome spoken word on the night here.
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The Bram Stoker Festival in October 2015 was our biggest show yet. We have so much love for what went down at the Project Arts Centre for I Got The Seanchaí, I Got The Secret.
We had 27 women on stage who all performed out of their skins, including The Homework Collective, Roisin Ingle, Louise Bruton, Roisin Agnew, Clara Rose Thornton, Joanne McNally, Twin-Headed Wolf, Landless, Niamh Beirne and Temper-Mental MissElayneous.
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September 2015: Una and Vickey took to the stage at the Barricade Inn on Parnell Street for PETTYCASH’s amazing Body//Battleground event.
#repealthe8th
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In September 2015, Come Rhyme With Me hit the stage in our spiritual home of Outhouse on Capel Street for a packed performance as part of the Culture Night programme. Big up everyone who came down and the Outhouse crew as ever. <3
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At Dublin Pride, 2015, Una and Vickey performed spoken word pieces reflecting our PRIDE and JOY! Thanks to PETTYCASH for having us on the Love Shack stage in the Love Shack tent in Merrion Square.
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May 23rd 2015
May 23rd RDS I remember wondering I think I saw Bon Jovi here Oh, we’re halfway there. Oh woah, living on a prayer. 9am in the RDS the votes being counted No, No, No, Yes, Yes, Yes. Check the constituencies Check the numbers Check the names Check someone’s Tumblr Listen to the radio Listen to the tallies Listen to the conversations Listen to the other rallies Read the percentages Read the feeds Read the timelines Read the leads Ask for updates Ask for figures Ask for breaking news Ask if it’s getting bigger The railings were cold in front of the tables A thumb flicked through ballots And then just like a fable, The moral was learned almost as soon as it began We’ve done it We did it It’s over We won Victory unfolded Victory had begun. And I felt it In the vacuum of air in this warehouse In the scratch of a pen counting in fives In the colour about to drain from someone’s face In the fizzing of two auras locked in an embrace Dublin Castle Turn green, turn green, the counties on the screen Willing them on Dance Yourself Clean Norris didn’t need a microphone to yell egalité A noble call The platform seemed like a stage, but it was just a viewing post The actors were in the courtyard Who all played a part Here for the finish There for the start A Saturday afternoon where doors went unknocked No gathering on greens or at local shops No high vis vests or “Sorry for disturbing you but we’re canvassing for a Yes vote in the upcoming marriage referendum. I was wondering if you’ve considered how you’re going to vote yet?” The doorbells felt no pressure that day The letterboxes didn’t swing either way The latches on gates weren’t touched by strangers Dogs didn’t bark, and no one was on a street saying “That side’s been done” “What?” “That row has just been done.”
The sun splitting the cobblestones And I saw it In the pause between the beats of applause The intake of breath before the cheer The salt rushing to a duct to meet water for a tear The mouth opening to roar, we’re here and we’re queer. The winning is only a fragment of this What got us here, what happened, that’s what I’ll miss 1.2 million votes. 1.2 million stories. We haven’t even begun to digest this glory. They ask what kind of republic do we build from here? An economy, a recovery, a planet me? Or a benign lesbian dictatorship Ruled by the Rose of Tralee It’s already under construction But we don’t need cranes and cement We don’t need conferences and rhetoric Because we know what it meant. We have each other to prove solidarity is best We have the feelings that still tingle when we hear the word ‘YES’ Change always comes from the bottom up The people have the power, and it’s that power they took We broke lies, we broke hate, we broke that bullshit fear And when they’re celebrating the Rising in 2016 We’ll say, lads, yiz missed it, it happened last year Mother The queue for Mother went down Francis Street There was one in Copper Alley that night too Two mothers, appropriate for a country anew Liberated in the Liberties I saw it again The shape of the gap before you hug In the sound of the crack of a pill In the smoking section wondering aloud What can we change next? The world opened up Possibilities untethered We can do anything, so long as we do it together. Because there are 1.2 million signatories on our proclamation Our love, our laws, our vote, our nation. And today, I feel it again. It is in the air between Jim Larkin’s arms In seagulls singing their crazy alarm A Tá sticker mashed into the footpath Winking up a reminder It is in the remnants of window dressings and DIY signs It can be measured in the breadth of all of our smiles It is this thing, that happened, that no one can really describe. But the feeling is shared: What a time to be alive
UM
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In September 2014, Vickey performed with the PETTYCASH crew as part of their Dublin Fringe Festival show, ÚR.
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In February 2014, Come Rhyme With Me presented The Censored Edition at Outhouse.
In Le Cool, Joey Kavanagh wrote this about the event:
“A man, a queen, from Ballinrobe, who dared to utter “homophobe”, opened up a can of worms that made the Montrose bigwigs squirm.
Under the threat of legal action, they bowed to demands of a right-wing faction, but when the clip was made disappear, the Streisand Effect wound into gear. Amid the drama and clamorous noise, Panti bravely held her poise. On the Abbey stage, she bared her soul; told how “checking yourself” takes its toll. After tit for tat between pro and anti, the Noble Call made it game Team Panti.
But set and match remain TBC, so let’s pass the mic to Come Rhyme With Me. A night of spoken word and rhymes, to honour an icon of our times, reflect on decades of hard-won fights and share our dreams of equal rights.”
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At this year's GAZE International LGBT Film Festival Dublin, the awesome PETTYCASH and us, Come Rhyme With Me are teaming up to present That's A Rap, a film-themed event of spoken word surprises.
The rhymes begin at 6.30pm on Friday August 2nd in the Red Room at the Light House Cinema in Smithfield.
Click here for more details. It's free, so join us, crack open a Cannes, and settle in for some spoken word fun.
Featuring:
Oisin McKenna Una Mullally Temper-Mental MissElayneous Niamh Beirne Andy Apples Hannah Wilson
Donations will kindly be accepted on the door in aid of Outhouse. The Red Room is located on the bottom floor of the Light House Cinema.
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My Commuter Belt Is Too Tight
The fear, the fear, of living out here Where nothing is queer except the jeers after beer When lads on the wall to make themselves feel tall Toss slags like their cans into the canal squall Of swans once monogamous and now as they ponder us And look quizzically at traffic lines heading to the office. Their cygnets a signifier of stay at home mums and helpful dads nesting in rushes Protecting their kids from the brusqueness of crèches In a nest that didn’t come from Ikea. You were too busy decking to realise we stopped fecking. And the stainless steal balcony is beginning to rust. An anonymous letter to Ray D’Arcy’s social rubber necking. A Today FM researcher is someone I trust. I wrote ‘what can I cut back on to pay Property Tax?’ And do I get some kudos making Dine In For Two spread over three days? I asked if other people were in my situation Then how would they deal with the hassle and dull pain? Because petrol station lottery tickets offer hope on a Tuesday But that’s just two days into a week of 6am starts. Indian takeaways and E! News comas This is the True Hollywood Story of someone with smarts Who settled. When I was a kid we played stuck in the mud In a playground that didn’t have bouncy Astroturf. But the fire doors slammed on your dreams and my plans A dole of baby turtles tossed around in the surf. I stepped up on a ladder in excitement and good faith Not checking it was secure before it was too late. And now the snakes are beneath us flicking their tongues Not banished but gathering the bills and the sums. When the envelopes drop onto our comedy mat Keep Calm And Carry On, you wipe your shoes on that Coming home in the evening after the M50’s heaving Spitting out couples in two hours flat. Last Sunday it was quiet. A ghost town, coffee made. Sat at the table, Cuisine De France croissant and Sindo magazine The ghouls of consumption past winked from the page. Outside the swans hissed at anyone coming near the eggs they had laid. And I remembered our nights on the town Taxis down Cork Street and having mates around. In nightclubs and restaurants toasting to all that we had And everything in front of us glittered from our glad rags. But the streetlights fall dark when there’s no life to light And the barbeques smolder when there’s no phoenix to rise To bed early now, you turn over in case I come near. The fear the fear of living out here.
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