"havers" poems
Govan bar banter:
Awa' with ye fankle eejits
that blether to naw whit they dinnae naw
crabbit, drookit
moanin, drouthy
yer Havers-yins!
each unto their ane
an' aye bin.
Tell markers scoured
an' crowned with glee
"alas nae blessing naw
bolt of wisdom
will er'e to
strike thee -
tis poor soil
an' loads o toil
an' broken backs"
Ach awa with ye!
Fir me the skies
an' tracks o wilds
an' winds that curl yer lugs
Hielan mountains glory
summers toty story
an' bonny lassies dancing -
a gallus stoater!
that’s fir me.
Party racket
in Da’s laden jaiket
jangle change
fir a dram
an' enough tae get the Clockwork Orange hame -
times hae changed a wee bit no?
Seldom ventured
tis seldom gained
an' aw the while
the wee bairns wail
Still, life is yin
what yin makes of that
which drives the world
that breaks yer back
Remember love!
ma banters free to give
an' thats all the mare important when
it costs so much tae live.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 8:20 AM UTC
Cauld-bluided, humphing ower the stark grey hills
Gowd een skinkle to an fro
Split tongue lappin at the wind-blown smells
Bog grass blackens whaur ye go
Smoke split shielings and the clammerin o bairns
Bone cracked mithers in yer wake
Heirt-scaud ruin fae the valleys tae the cairns
Driven by a drouth ye canny slake
Crib tale shapit unner creakin heather thatch
Howf born craitur o the nicht
Auld sangs spake aboot the maidens ye would ******
Fleggit bairns tae keep intil the licht
True? Naw, havers, juist the blaflum o wives
God nivver biggit ocht sae fell
But ae bairn crouchin in the ruins o its life
Can think o naethin else the tale tae tell
Blin, lost, forwandert fae the shattered faimly hame
Warslin wi fear tae unnerstan
White winds whistle as he gies the beast a name
And dragons whiles can take the form o man.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
Digeridoos are back in stock
Said the notice in the bric-a-brac shop
Are the West of Scotland Numpties
On their own Dreamtime quest?
Are they contemplating their navels
Through the holes in their stringvest?
Could they realize their chip-papers
Hold the answer to their havers
And the Buckfast in the Hand gripped
Tight is causing calluses in the brain.
Corks dangling from their hats
Swinging like disorientated bats
In ryhthm to the dance of delirious tremor
The adrenaline is pumping.
Mossies no, but midgies, aye,
A stark contrast to the Kappa motifs;
Are the natives going walkabout,
In the local run-down mall?
Calling everyone mate,
In an accent you love to hate
Walkabout, lost in the wilderness
Wandering through the bush.
Outback here there ain’t no
Crocodiles, only quilted, padded cells.
Hand to wall a red imprint,
Not paint, my boy, but blood.
This lot would embarrass any Aborigine
Because they havnae got
An original thought.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:56 AM UTC
Please look at me, and judge
If I am okay, not by my surface
But by peeling back my skin, and see
If my insides do not scare you.
When you are looking, please check not
Merely for darkness plaguing my heart
Seek also for brittleness in my bones
And poor circulation that makes havers cold
Please look at me, in the eyes
Deep enough to find what behind them lies
Is it fear, anger, violence, regret
A dare to challenge you, or an internal death?
You could not see anything; all my insides are black
Infection from mankind's poisons attacked
The rest was once silver, shiny like gold
But tarnished from harshnesses as I grew old
I like you.
But realize the horrors I'd bring unto you
Is it worth it to risk such improbable strife?
Dependent on someone else's then-state of life
I fear it is not, as I'm sure you can see
The pitfalls associated with me
So farewell, my friend, I'm a half-empty cup
I hope you can forgive me for being messed up
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Moonlight lit the room casting shadows that stayed.
I lit a cigarette and watched the smoke rise into midnight's hour.
Nine hours to go.
Nine hours to wait.
Nine hours to remember,
remember the night,
that Easter Sunday.
That pub in Hampstead.
Why did you tell me that you loved me?
When clearly it was untrue.
Why did I love you so intensely?
When a single punch from you, took the life growing inside me away.
The clock has struck 3am
No mice have run down.
Just me, a table, cigarettes and the moon.
I'm not mad, that is true, just too passionate for you.
5am and a weak dawn is breaking
Just 4 cigarettes left, one an hour, if I'm lucky.
I called your name that fateful day, twice.
You ignored me, carried on looking for your keys.
Keys to a car that would not be needed.
You can't drive to where I sent you.
A .38 calibre Smith & Wesson Victory model revolver's
bullets were your last ride.
On 20 June 1955, Number One Court at the Old Bailey, London,
before Mr Justice Havers, I said;
"It's obvious when I shot him I intended to **** him."
I'd shot you dead.
Now it's my time to go meet our maker
Nearly nine, and a drop of 8ft 4 awaits.
As I told the Bishop of Stepney
"It is quite clear to me that I was not the person who shot him. When I saw myself with the revolver I knew I was another person."
8:59, with 30 seconds to go I take my glasses off
Won't be needing those anymore.
I know what a drop looks like.
15 seconds is all it took, my feet dangling toward the floor.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
No more days of pain and un-settlety
I found an angel, she havers right above me.
No more pain, she took it all away from me.
Replaced it with a kiss, now nothing but happiness surrounds me.
Laughter, no more envy.
Smiles lessen the hypocrisy.
Kisses in lighten our purity, hugs bring her closer to me.
Trying to discover her in words is like looking for gold. Brass and iron, a tin overload.
Every metal man has found and sold. None are worth more than a touch by her gentle soul.
An overload of gold wouldn't make me care for another soul. She is my whole, everything I need bundled into a beautiful , beautiful
soul.
So when? ({Huyen})
won't you come to me. Forget the past, it will shatter like glass.
Hold to me, my warmth will neglect the cold.
Stay with me, we can lay til we get old.
Think of me, and the poems I try to mold
About you My love
The girl that'll never age
She carries a heart laced by gold.
Surrounded by her body, the most beautiful thing doesn't come close.
Yes, I found an angel. She havers above me.
No more pain
She took it away from me.
Now nothing but happiness is surrounding me.
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 12:28 AM UTC
evoL
Look at this man.
Do you know what I'm after?
Do you know what happens
when screams replace laughter?
You're a platter.
...couldn't be improved with fried batter.
...but does that matter
when you intentionally make me madder?
Tears, rips and tatters,
thrown swears and adders
slice up the cadaver.
Blood splatters.
What is it that you're after?
Is it somewhere up this ladder?
The higher that you climb
the more your life gets sadder.
Looking at yourself,
you know that you're mad at her.
...and your sad matters,
...but only to sad havers
of bad batterers gathered
to have their fractures spattered
with words designed to flatter.
That's love backwards.
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 1:34 AM UTC