The Hill of Judgement

On the Hill of Judgement

Past and future converge

My feet now, where the bard

Once stood, once congregated,

courted love and death

on these grounds consecrated.

The gates are locked,

Encased in fear,

What would he think?

If he was here.

Would he jump, yell, and howl,
          Alarm every soul?”

Asking “Are ye herding the penny,
    Unconscious what evil await?

    To the foul thief that shut the gates.

Wi’ tidings o’ damnation.”

To what degree, would he walk the line,

what angle would he divine?

As I ponder the question

his words to Miss Eliza dear

echo in my ear….

  “HOW, Liberty! girl, can it be by thee nam’d?
Equality too! hussey, art not asham’d?
Free and Equal indeed, while mankind thou enchainest,
And over their hearts a proud Despot so reignest.”

Radical Roots

Martyr;s Grave (24).JPGYesterday the rage burned
today the tide’s turned.
With forked tongues
you speak Tannahill’s name
but you’d ignore him still
if he was born again.
You’d wave
Wilson off
with cheerful glee.
While sitting on
the establishment’s knee.
Excluded, rejected,
suicidal, dejected.
His body found
in Candren Burn
Too young by far for
an unsanctified urn.
He whispers to me
from times goneby
As together we ask
Why oh why?
Radical roots under
the streets of Paisley
Unlike my friend
deaf ears won’t phase me
The
martyrs rise
a radical revival
blossoming still
for our survival.
So many tales
still to be told
the Paisley pattern
of the brave and bold.

#InTannahillsTrails #PaisleyRadicals #BraveandBold

The Naked Chef

Yer title like many was based on a lie,

just cause you danced scuddie as a wee guy.

Yer cooking programs were never really ma taste,

no sure if it was just the smug look on yer face.

A would’ve stayed quiet, kept ma mooth shut tight

but when you destroyed IRN-BRU ye started a fight.

Noo I cannae get sugar and defos no Bru

and a don’t know what else a can do.

But shout ma mooth aff at some poncy bloke

that somehow convinced some other mad folk.

That another tax was jist whit we need

cos some other folk cannae control their greed.

So noo a cannae get Irn Bru just a poisonous impostor

and more and more places are beginning to foster

A no sugar attitude that destroys my freedom of choice,

and all I have left is a sugar lovers sad voice.

Ye’ve opened yer gob ance too often fur me,

A’ve nae interest in what ye think I should huv fur ma tea.

Stuff your poncy ideas and yer naked ass too

and if you can find one a real can of Irn Bru

Up the bum of a turkey or maybe a duck

and get yerself right tae……..

 

#RealIrnBru #SugarLover #SugarTax #WhatHappenedToChoice
#IDetestJamieOliver #IdRatherPayTheTaxThanDrinkAspartame
#BarrsYouLetUsDown

A Fiver for Fairness

I’m no duchess dripping in pearls,
not counting my silver like the earls.
I knew it was never about the amount
an act of support is what did count.
No ermine coat will await this lady,
No matter where fate will lead me.
No turn-coat treachery will entice me,
to sell out my own to those who vex me.
No titles, lands or gifts from the crown
but don’t worry it won’t bring me down.
My riches are life’s little treasures,
taking heart from simple pleasures.
A smile, a hug, a rainbow a dance,
a fated encounter brought by chance.
When justice prevails, and the truth shines bright,
When I wake in the morning to see the sun light.
A thank you letter from our former First Minister,
another blow to the walls of Westminster
A fiver #ForFairness is worth every penny,
as the legacy lives on to protect the many.

The Shofar Shout

Only some will hear the shofar shout

its echoes trumpet through the land

In towns and cities people alarmed,

on Highland summits

where sheep are now farmed.

Heaven’s mountain overlooks it all

wondering if they’ll heed the call.

The discordant drumming

shakes those still sleeping

As angels wipe away 

tears of the weeping

a million footsteps

can be heard if you listen

a million teardrops

of mourning glisten

the prayers of the past

and the future merge

as all paths of light

harmonically converge.

What awaits us now 

only time will tell 

as the bridge is revealed 

between heaven and hell. 

Close the book of history 

and write a new page 

as we awaken 

a new golden age. 

 

 

 

I birthed the future

I birthed the future

carried constellations within

elemental entities

of fire and air

both masculine and feminine

the sun and the wind

stars made of sunshine

light beams of dreams

burning it down

and soaring above

reborn from the ashes

devoted in love

I birthed the future

With new horizons to explore

On the cusp of adventure

Awaits many new shores

Four new worlds

creating,

colliding

Intersecting,

expanding

together

yet apart

Sharing one universe

And always my heart

I birthed the future

Under the sun and the moon

Touching heaven

While still here on Earth

I am the life bringer

The deliverer of lions

And the breath of life

The mother of miracles,

Laboured in love

To bring forth

The scales of justice

Weighed in from above

I birthed the future

Carried constellations within

I birthed the future.

 

La La Land

Much as I wish life was always sweet,
that every rainy day brought a coulorful treat.
That every blade of grass really tickled our ass
and that the bumps were only minor as the hurdles we pass.
Much as I wish we had no troubles to endure,
as we barely tread water as we reach for the shore.
Much as I wish there weren’t times it felt like we’re drowning
and our bonnie wee smiles were replaced by frowning.
Much as I wish no kids were abused,
no women were tortured and sexually used.
Much as I wish there was equality for all
there’s never gonna be unless we answer the call.
The call from inside, the silent screams of the tortured.
The ones that so many don’t want to hear
not realising there hiding from their own fears.
Scared to pay attention to the world around
their hands on their ears to drown out the sound.
Looking to La La Land where all is well,
they preach positivity in the stories they sell.
Never stopping for a moment to simply embrace truth,
ignoring reality and dismissing the proof.
In la La Land no strength is needed
only sweet things are ever seeded.
In La La Land you won’t have to fight to survive
you’ll never learn what it truly takes to thrive.
In La la Land compassion has dried up
because it’s easier to blame someone if they’re fucked up.
In La La Land there’s no space for tears
in case it triggers someone’s fears.
In la La Land don’t dare cry
and don’t dig deeper or question why.
In La Land there is no toil
just scatter the seeds on the top soil.
No need for water to wash our hands
as we’re too clean here to understand.
Dirt is needed to grow something big,
courage is a beautiful bloom for which we must dig.
Think positive they scream if you show your fears,
if you’re brought to your knees and shed your tears.
Never contemplating, blind to see that our knees offer support when the pain’s too much
and all we need is a human touch.
A smile, a hug, a reassurance we’ll get through,
that we can make it in this crazy zoo.
That though we’re weak we’ll rise again like the sun in the sky and the tides keep flowing.
Never pondering that from this pain we’re growing.
That positivity is knowing you can survive another day,
and being honest about what your heart needs to say.
That not topping yourself is the ultimate goal
when your legs are as weak as a new born foal.
So my friends there’s something I hope I’ve helped you understand
I don’t want to live in fucking La La Land.

Book of Life

Book

As I look at the cover

my mind comes to life,

Curious and wondering

what the pages may hide.

Lost in translation

or factual information.

Poetry, prose

or government manipulation.

What’s between the lines,

I begin to guess.

As I allow the title

to slowly digest.

Who is the author,

what’s the agenda?

Tantalising tales

or a murky mind-bender.

Recording facts

or re-writing a story?

Re-telling history,

like it’s not quite as gory.

Filling in the blanks,

my imagination’s on fire.

Getting the full picture

my ultimate desire

Interpreting symbols

my psyche over-loaded

Trying to make sense

of the secret’s encoded

Century’s missing,

from the past recorded

To cover up how

we’ve been defrauded

Written by the victorious

of the bloody battlefields

Our past marred

with tales of stolen yields

Books are my heaven,

my hope and my hell

How the story unfolds,

only time will tell.

A King Lives Among Us

Fantasy Fairies073

A King lives among us, one of our own,

Not bought and paid for, he lives all alone.

Fighting for people and singing their songs,

His crown stays invisible, except to the strong.

As a young lion I entered his space,

Welcomed by the hand of his divine grace.

Not once did he ask me to bow or to kneel,

Nor did he get me to sign any deals.

He lifted me higher than I’d ever been

Though, sadly, the same can’t be said of our Queen.

A Philosopher King speaking wisdom and truth,

None of those false airs that make him aloof.

I’m not a Royalist and never have been

And I’ll never bow to our current Queen.

He earned my respect being loving and kind

And taught me more about our beautiful minds.

A King lives among us, one of our own.

Now where did we leave that real Royal Stone? ‘

Destiny they’ve called it, but we’re living a lie,

Crowned on a fake one she’s not bound by the ties

Of a mystical land with traditions so strong

But don’t worry all will be shown before long.

It’s time for compassion and the truth to be told.

Time to move on from the decrepit and old.

A time when our Hope diminishes fear.

A time when that truth rings in every ear.

We’re nearly there, keep holding on tight

We’re leaving the tunnel, heading into the light.

A King lives among us, he’s one of our own.

Not bought and paid for, he smiles, all alone.

Fighting for the people, writing their songs.

His Crown kept invisible, except to the strong.

His name is Rabbie

Fountain Gardens, Paisley

When did his name suddenly change? 

These little things drive me insane.

Eroding, erasing, deleting, distorting,

are our memories being contorted?

His name was Rabbie when I was a child,

When through the braes we still ran wild.

A man of the people with a message to share,

Encouraging people simply to care.

His love was like a red, red rose,

As through the world his message grows

We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,

Inspired by him we never met.

But when his words rest on our ears,

Please remember the things he held dear.

No lords, no masters only brothers,

Reaching out and loving each other.

His name is Rabbie, he was a Scot,

And I’d hate to see that simply forgot.

We’ve never called our men Robbie,

As it sounds too much like the word  jobby.

His name was Rabbie, remember him with kindness,

And don’t take part in the collective blindness.

No pomp and ceremony just raise a smile,

for the Scot whose words span the miles.

Happy Burns Day

http://www.rabbie-burns.com/

http://masonicsourcebook.com/robert_burns_scottish_poet_mason_rosslyn_chapel.htm