Soldiering on


Wishing to be under an umbrella

We are soaked to the skin

As we shuffle through the wet leaves

Into the winter winds

Still rain drops keep falling

as the grey skies go black

We find the missing child

Our heat is warm, at last

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The bell tolls


The unwelcome stranger of broken promises

Smiles widely into her guarded eyes

Helping hands mask the token of deceit;

Undermining her once proud homeland


She now prepares for stormy weather

Where statesmen reign no more




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No cause is sought



I’ve just returned to the grey land


where they’re dreaming of things;


ruined trenches, lashed with rain


Spilling jealousies and sorrows


where truth fails


as guilt is not challenged


Aristocrats who made it happen


still fake the people;


sitting in fire lit homes


with little bread


no man to earn it, any more
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Triggering Past


Even on a good day,
Suddenly the trigger pulls.
Angry buried memories erupt
And fill my head with poison.

Vivid, stabbing flashbacks blind my senses.
Time blocked hidden baggage drives hard.
Horrific impulses release and carve,
Relentlessly, into an unexpecting present.

Excreting smells of hate,
Visions of darkness,
Sounds of fear,
Mind battles rage.

Alone I fight the rampaging demons
Across bloody fields of thought.
All at once, they go defeated.
I live again, for now

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Poetry Day


Today is National Poetry Day

And we are blessed

In a confused and conflicting presence

We have a thought

A thought that times will get better

The thought that if we care

Others will care

The world will heal

We will be blessed

Where we have a Poetry Day


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We will screw you


Well I’ve heard there is a secret phrase
Religions play, giving them a raise
Well it goes like this:     We will screw you
We will screw you
We will screw you

They want your faith to be strong, but you faltered
You saw them preaching at the alter

Their words were bold and nearly overthrew ya

They had to sit you in their chair
and they took your money, without a care
And from their lips you heard:        We will screw you

We will screw you
We will screw you


But we’ve seen it here before

From the druid, priest, imam and rabbi
know you were better off before they knew ya

And I’ve seen their mark on their blessed door

But no one sleeps upon their floor
even if cold and broken:          We will screw you

We will screw you
We will screw you

Well it is now a time when I let you know
What’s really going on below
But now you never want to see that do ya
But remember when I loved just you
But the holy process was moving too
And every breath they said was:        We will screw you

We will screw you
We will screw you


If there was a God above
She’d let all of us be in love

Not how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya

And they have not a cry you hear at night
they’re not somebody who’s seen the light
Religion is so cold and broken.

Don’t follow them saying:        We will screw you

We will screw you
We will screw you


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The Appointment


The Oldmeldrum farm machinery show went through its usual motions and visits were made to the various stands, showing their wares. No more than to Johnny’s, who had by far the most visitors, but the least sales returns to register.

The other salesmen wondered at this and could not fathom it. In the bar they asked around, but still were no further forward.

“What’s going on?” said Billy.

“Oh, we just keep in touch. He is a good man to know,” said a farmer.

“For why?” said Billy. “What good does it do you if you’re not buying anything?”

“Well for Johnny, sales always come later. So we come to chat to make out appointments,” said the farmer.

“Appointments? What do you need appointments for?” said Billy.

“It’s like this, if we don’t have an appointment then we can’t buy the equipment,” said the farmer.

“But you can buy my equipment here. You don’t need an appointment. Just come to my stand,” said Billy.

“Na, na. It’s not the way. I’ve been buying from Johnny for twenty years now and we prefer the appointment. It’s the highlight of my year,” said the farmer.

The salesmen reviewed the discussion and set out a new course for their stalls. They put up banners stating that sales would be made by appointment only. Their returns dropped to zero.

In the bar, Billy cornered the farmer again.

“We tried the appointment process on our stands, but no one took us up on it,” said Billy.

“Aye, I can understand that,” said the farmer.

“Understand what?” said Billy.

“You didn’t do your marketing,” said the farmer.

“Marketing, what marketing,” said Billy.

“You have to tell what you get at the appointment,” said the farmer.

The salesmen reviewed the discussion and adjusted their banners to highlight the benefits of the appointments. Their returns stayed at zero.

Billy returned to the bar and sat down beside the farmer.

“It must be your round,” said the farmer. “Mine’s a Macallan.”

 “A double Macallan for you if you explain how my appointment and the marketing doesn’t work,” said Billy.


“What football team do you support?” said the farmer.

“I’m from Glasgow. Rangers,” said Billy.

“I’ll have the whisky now,” said the farmer.

Billy got the order in and the farmer sipped the dark brown liquid.

“What has Rangers got to do with this?” said Billy.

“You wouldn’t know Harry Yorston then?” said the farmer.

“No. Who’s he?” said Billy.

“The best Dons player of my generation, scored 141 goals. He works at Johnny’s,” said the farmer.

“And?” said Billy.

“All the farmers here are Aberdeen supporters and at the appointments we get to chat with Benny,” said the farmer. “So unless you can introduce us to Joey Harper you haven’t a chance of a sale.”

“Joey who?” said Billy.

“Well, there you go. Scored 199 goals in 300 games” said the farmer. “I think you should get a new hat.”

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