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Wee Angus on his wae frae work
would hit tha pub fa a perk
O' Tennents lager frae tha keg
whiles chatting up tha barmaid Meg
A pint or twa there wae friens
a' bleathering awa like scholars an Deans
Debators O Parlimentary views
Ministers preaching o'er tha pews
Wae drink in hand they'd laugh their fill
tha glory Mead upon their bill
Yelping like some bairney pups
catching breeths atween their sups.

(nae wiser a man than yin filled wae ale
Nae greater a time than while drinking frae tha Grail.)

In football games they A' would linger
or singing songs for all's a singer
Nae matter how bad tha voice
a' would request their favorite choice
Happy all wae drink in hand
while holding up the bar they stand
In rattled curses tae tha bumping airms
while viewing o'er some lassies chairms
Whispering oot all dreams an desires
that drink within them all inspires
An' Angus kens that soon or late
he tae hame must tak tha gate.

Kenning tae deep doun inside
his drunken breath he'd better hide
Saying fareweel tae friens and foes
leaing ahind tha pub's warm burning coals
Doun he stummels tae tha chippy
tha air ootside tis crisp an nippy
Making him drunker than afore
he side steps frae door tae door
Eating his fish supper, enjoying each bite
thinking aboot all that's happened tha night.
Till there he rouns tha corner street
His hame sae warmly it does greet,
Falling o'er tha step ootside his hame
Tha door it opens, Behold his sullen Dame
Trying tae act sober wae all his might
afore his wifie here tha night
But she's nae fool nor blind tae see
his daft antics, his blabbering plea.

In comes Angus wae words O' love
tae face tha thumping slap an shove
Her roaring voice would put fear intae tha Deil
Hear wee Angus weep an squeal.

(What type O' life drink it brings
that great at first yet later stings
What worth has man tae waste his life
wae drinks illusions an its strife.
Sooner or later as true as Hell
Yin cannie live save by its spell
getting worse an worse day by day
while friens an family turn away
An Angus wheither he kens or no
has drifted where tha drunkards go
An time shall tell what fate bestows
for tha Curse O Ale, nae man knows.)

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apon tha roll O' tha pagan's dream
As it leaps an' boun's apon tha mental stream
Flowing doon intae tha cordons o' solitaire
Near tha brigs O' tha banks O' Bonnie Ayr.

Tha whispering Hazel catches huld tha tune
Echoing tha mysteries a' tha wae tae Troon
As a glimmer O' lichtning crosses tha Sky
He, tha ancient an' grand Wizard stoans apon Carrick high.

Configurations an' transformations by god
Far ayond tha concepts o' tha blunnering sod
Catch hold Lad tha spirit as it flees past ye
Heading oot taewards Arran across tha sea.

Does no tha Seagull scream tae enchant tha ******
an' the win' blaws like some evil melody played by a Demon
An' dinnie wait tae lang tae grasp tha chain
O' life's faithful given, tha Barley, Wheat an' Grain.

But come see tha Mither apon her Earth filled seat
As tae tha wonnerous farmer She bows tae Greet
That apon tha Seasons O' echoed fate they may come tae restore
Tha True religion O' this land, O' this flaming shore.

Nue listen an' be quite till pass a' hoors break
an' bin' ye thagither tha dreams an' thouchts that ye take
an' cast it a' apon tha Fires O' Beltanes torch
Tae watch as tha flames reach higher an' higher, tha heevens tae scorch.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Alan McClure Dec 2015
Arise Great Britain, swell wi pride
this is no time tae split, divide,
a hero needs us on his side
a man apart
Brave Osbourne comes wi manly stride
and lion heart

When danger ca’s, he stauns and fights
He’ll haud the baddies bang tae rights
Nou in their een he sees the whites
and yells, “Attack!”
He’s got oor mojo in his sights –
He wants it back!

Let’s cheer his valour tae the roof
Condemn the wans wha’d cry him couff
And pray oor Geordie’s bulletproof
As on he flies
Then fit him wi a parachute
and wave guidbye.

This GM perfect Tory clone
need not rely on un-manned drone
He’ll tackle ISIS on his own
their fight dissolve
His pores squirt pure testosterone
his eyes, resolve

Just watch the baddies turn and flee
as George, wi patriotic glee
wreaks vengeance for democracy
a one-man dojo
And cries, “Come, Britain, flock to me,
and feel my mojo!”

Or mibbes we should check this twice.
Although the image may be nice
The blood we risk on his advice
may never stop -
But Geordie will not sacrifice
one ****** drop

These profiteering pinstripe ******
wha ken no life but politics
Are no the first tae play these tricks
while deals are made
Why no just wave a crucifix
and shout “Crusade!”

So hooses burn and horror grows
A stream o misery outflows
While braggard Geordie struts and crows,
"Ye want a fight?"
I’d dump him on Damascus road
tae see the light

Ye plot the death o innocents
Tae score yir points in parliament
Yir fascist mocking o dissent
it suits ye well
George Osbourne, ye're a proper gent
**** ye tae hell.
R Dickson Jan 2015
Young Robert Fergusson

I'm just back frae The Kirk
Doon Canongate way,
Afore yi get tae Parliament,
That was brand new yesterday,

Way back tae the 1700's
A poet in his grave,
Fergusson the poetry man,
He couldnae be saved,

Banging his heid  in a fa'
Tumbling doon a' the steps,
Hadnae sterted livin' yet,
His poetry had some depth,

Rab trained as a minister,
He abandoned fir poetry,
At the age of twenty two,
With no heart for the ministry,

He took a job as a copyist,
Tae earn a crust tae live,
Probably hated it,
So much poetry for tae give,

If he wis alive the today,
He'd be pertying in Ibiza,
DJing wi' the discs,
Rapping like a geeza,

He was only 24,
At Cape Club he'd dae a gig,
I'm sure he enjoyed himsel',
It's something that he did,

After the fa',
Darkly melancholic,
Depression followed,
He  wisnea an alcoholic,

Straight to Edina's loony bin,
Then ca'd Darien House,
On Bristo Street used to stand,
Can't think what'd be worse,

He was born in 1750,
Died penniless in '74
Unmarked grave in Canongate,
Nae headstane was in store,

Many years later,
Head stane was selected,
Rabbie Burns inspired,
Was paid fir an' erected,

The date upon the stane was wrong,
Hopefully wis being changed,
By Robert Louis Stevenson,
But died before old age,

Grave is now restored,
Tae it's former glory,
Ironwork and stane cleaned,
But it's no the end o' story,

A statue wis erected,
On the street ootside the Kirk,
The way they positioned him,
He's on his way tae work,

You'll see the Parliament building,
If you wander doon the road,
Poems and poetry on the wa's
But none in Fergusson mode,

It seems he's been forgotten,
In this day and age,
Someone with his talent,
Wan o' Edina's greatest sage,

Let's hope we'll see his poetry,
On Scotland's parliament wa,
I dinae mean graffiti,
I mean poetry fir a'.
Jack Jul 2014

Happy Birthday Wishes Sye

Sye, a few of your friends wanted to send you happy wishes on this
your 17th birthday. I hope you enjoy this.  


Happy Birthday Sweet Niece!
Sye, you are beyond amazing in your talents for writing, your beauty of soul and your caring and compassion. What a gift to our community on HP and the entire Universe that you are here! I am so very glad I met you!!! I hope this birthday and the year ahead are the best ever for you!
With much love,
Aunt Pamela


Seventeen, as cute as seven.
Funny as Hell, sweet as Heaven.
It's not hard to grasp just why
We love you so deeply, Sye.

Birthday hugs from Norway!


Sweet Seventeen, a year so Sweet to bring Your Dreams into the World, Live them Proud and True, just for You!!
I Wish You a Very Happy Birthday Sye!
~ Venusoul7~


Happy Birthday "Daughter"
You are a Blessing who touches each life you enter,(as you have mine)
My wish for you this day, is that the Love and Happiness return to you ten-fold.
Happy B-Day Sweetheart! Paula


Hippy buffday to you!
Wishing you blessings anew
May your days be
Full of sunshine and laughter
And joyful songs too ***
Petal Pie


Happy Birthday Sye

A day of Celebration
of contemplation
The last remains of a year
The dawn of the new

A dawn...
Filled with wonder
With beauty
An adventure

Bask in the sunshine
Embrace the rain
From pain
Do you grow

My wish for you...

Live life
Open hearted

Your flower is blooming
Revealing the beauty
Within your heart and soul

Kelly Rose


17 candles a top the fruit cake
Your friends and family
Nigh to celebrate this great milestone
Wine glasses raised~
In honor of you
God has added yet another year
May your life be filled with so much joy~
And good health be your portion always
Happy birthday Sye…



May Sye have a wonderful birthday as wonderful as her poetry.
Briar Thornit


Hello young Sye on the occasion of your birthday. You are a young lady who has so much still to offer the world of poetry and you can only get better

Keep on writing Sye

Old man Joe


Happy Birthday Sye

Young at heart, a mind for words
may you have a day of joy,
With many happy returns,
have fun let it all go its your day
so do what ever is your fancy
Have well remembered birthday fun :)

Poetic T :)


Only friends for a while
yet I know you're so kind
with that beautiful smile
you'll never be left behind

This wee bonnie lass
has a birthday today
such a kind and sweet soul
in our hearts she'll forever remain

Have a fantastic day Sye **



Tae Sye

Wi' a' the monie ways tae say,
I find I lack skill;
Tae ye, wi' a' me greetings lay,
Pray, o't, tak yowre fill!

Och, sic a bonnie lass as ye,
My hearty blessin';
Sae monie mowre ye Birthdays be,
Wi' a' the dressin'!

'Tis a sma' thing tae say,
Happy, Happy, Birthday!

'Tis a' for thee
Dear S. Y. E.



Princess Sye you are amazing:) I have came to learn so much by you, and you have been a wonderful friend to me:) I hope this birthday finds you well:) Miles of smiles and much love always:)

Jonathan E Furches


betterdays 2 days ago
hello sye
my understanding is it is your17th birthday honour of that and your amorevolous nature
i give you, these word gifts.
two quotes:
"blessed are the curious,
for they shall have
Lovelle Drachman.
"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone"
attributed to,
Audrey Hepburn
but really Sam Lenvenson.
my best wishes for a, eellogofusciouhipopp-okunurious (good)
hugs and kisses
p.s.amorevolous- loving and giving beyond self, nature.


Dear Sye,

Uh - 17. Young enough to be stupidly foolish and wise enough not to realize it. Your writing has touched many, including me. Thanks for sharing your inner self. Happiest of Birthdays to you Miss Sye. Wishes for many happy returns of the Day.
Your friend in poetry, Kim


"I look at you and see so much promise
so full of life and always ready to help
although I have not known you much
I can see your beautiful soul through your words.
You turn 17 today and my wish for you is simple,
I hope you have enough courage to stand your ground,
to write what's true to you and do all that you love,
that you follow your dreams and
be the beautiful woman you were meant to be.

Happy Birthday, Sye :)
- H.U."


Sye as in sigh but also the world, from Korea to marine flag languages and morse code like this ...-.--.
I saw your name as a barcode while shopping for words,
these are what I bought: Happy Birthday to you Sye the World.

Regis Keuren


Sweet sixteen plus one
Oh what fun
The Sye flower will blossom
More and more so awesome.
She is loved by many here
Who find her so Dear.
Happy Birthday Dear Sye
Now you may cry.

Grandpa john


Happy birthday to my beautiful little sis! I wish you the most spectacular of days and the best of years. You deserve all the happiness and love, life has to offer!

You have been such a great friend and are always so kind and supportive. You amaze me with your wisdom and talent, sweet one. I am in awe of you, gorgeous! I feel so blessed to have met you!


The radiance
Beaming from
Your golden heart
Eclipses the sun
Sending light
And love
To all who bask
In the warmth
Of your sweet

Love you Sye!

Your adoring sis,


Thank you Sye for your excellent poetry as it's a gift to us all. Best of wishes on your birthday; you deserve all of the attention you get and, thanks to Jacks rally of poets, this attention can get to you. With pleasure, I salute thee -

Peter Watkins


Happy Birthday Sye! You are going to go so far in this world sweetie! Have an amazing day my friend! Continue to write amazing poetry.
Peace and Love


Birthday wishes sent to you in hope that all your dreams come true x

Calpurnia Mockingbird


Oh, my Sye, my sweet, sweet, Sye
Wonderful sister and dear poet of mine
Words emerge from your stunning mind
And paint visions for all to read
But today is not about what you create
It's what God created 17 years ago
A wonderful person and talented friend
My non-blood sister to the end
Happy birthday my dear sister
Today is dedicated solely for you
Live it up and enjoy the wonders of life
And make sure to get some cake too!

Madalyn Beck


And now it is my turn. To my sweetest friend on your special day…
As you look above and see all of these people, your friends and family
from Hellopoetry sending you love and beautiful birthday wishes,
I want you to know that you are my best friend in the entire world
and I wish you all that makes you smile, every happiness and joy
this coming year and those to follow have to offer.

Happy Birthday sweet Sye.

Your smile lights the world,

Thank you to everyone who participated in this with me. I appreciate your kindness more than you know.
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
Ah wuz lookin oot o' mah winder and ah saw this lad
wi' a barry wee lassie gaun' up the hill.
-Wair the **** d'ye think you're gaun tae? ah yells oot.
But the daft ***** didnae answer at aww,
must've been oot o' thir ****** heids wi' E's or summat,
d'ye ken what ah'm tellin' ye,ye daft radge?
-Wair ye're ******* going? ah yells a couple mair times
and finally the gadge yells back to ays,
-Up the ******* hill tae fetch a pail o' ******* watter,
me Ma's hud her ******' taps turned oaf by the ******' Corporation,
which is a ******* pain in the erse ah had ter agree.
I realised ah knew the wee **** Jack but,
eh wuz an auld classmate of ays and eh's hung oot wi' ma brar n me,
when we wuz bairns oan the Scheme,eh?

-That's a bonny wee lassie ye've goat wi' ye, there Jack, ah yelled,
thinking ah'd nae kick her oot o' mah scratcher
withoot gi'ing her a guid ride.
Ah huvtae sey ah recognised hir as a wee ****
called Jill from the Scheme, a right tidy wee ride
in mah opinion wi' a guid little ***** on hir, as ah recall.
-Mind ye're own ******' business, the **** yells back at ays,
takin' the pail in yin hand and the ****'s wee hand in the other yin.

Ah can tell ye ah totally pished meself wi' laughter
when the pair o' they wide ***** fell doon,
Jack breakin' his ******' croon n the groond,
ah'm sure he nivver meant it tae happen,
'n eh mustae squashed his ******* bawws
as eh fell doon n aww from the wey he screamed oot,
but the wee lassie cam tumbling doon the ****** hill n aww,
heid n **** oor her ******' erse
'n ah could see she wasnae wearin' any ****** *******
'n her ***** was on display under her skirt.
Ah wouldnae expect anything else from a wee ****,eh?

-Dinnae worry, ah'll com and help ye, ah called oot,
but when ah goat thir, both o them wis deid,
ah thoat o' gittin mah hole wi' the deid lassie n aww,
but you shouldnae dae that, it's no respectful tae wimmin,
'n eywis, the polis might trace me through the DNA,
those ***** are clivvir 'n aw, ye ken.
So ah contented mesel' wi' rummidging through the poakits
o' the lad's jaykit tae see if eh hud ehs payment from the Joab Centre,
but the daft **** mustae spent it aww on a boatil or two o Grants,
ah ken ah'd hae done the same mahsel'.
And there wasnae a penny in the lassie's purse,
so ah thoat ah'd jus' **** oaf doon the ******
'n ask some **** tae call the hoaspital and the ****** polis.
This tribute to Irvine Welsh, Scotland's most successful living novelist, is my masterpiece.
Alan McClure Jun 2013
Ah didny recognise him fae the eulogy.
The meenister'd nivver met the lad, Ah could see.
A hero?  Aye, mibbe.  Jist a name tae maist ay these fowk.
But ah kent im as a boay,
the daft wee scapegoat, ayewis in boather,
but nae real hairm in im.
He wis the lad wha'd get skelped, the noise
makkin the teacher turn is heid
jist in time tae spot im skelpin back.
Mairched tae the heidie again.
"Yir a bad lot, Barry.
Yir faither wis a bad lot too."

Puir Baz.
Da in the jile,
Ma aff her face on smack,
an him, daft, funny, doomed.
If onybody at hame had cared enough
tae keep the schuil photies,
they'd have shown a wee freckly laddie
wi a too-open grin,
year eftir year,
jersey gettin tattier,
teeth getting gappier,
still grinnin while the rest ay us
were far too cool tae smile for the camera.

Ah liked im.
Didny unnerstaun how the teachers
were sae ***** tae im.
There wis far badder boays in the year.
Ricky ****** Jackson - a nasty, sleekit wee body,
yankin ab'dy's strings.
But his da wis rich
an the teachers fawned ower im.
No Baz, though.
Cannon fodder, richt enough.
Tackin the flack fir the rest ay us.

Exactly the kind ay lad
the ******* Army thrives on.
Ah canny feel the patriotic pride,
canny picture the self-sacrifice,
the heroism.
Ah can juist see im,
daft an grinnin,
daein whit he wis tellt
an gettin killt.

Mind you,
he wis aye headin for the poppies, that yin,
One wey
or anither.
Callin' all yer men, me heart, yer anger
E'er joy in wee darkest nights ye linger
Once yer heart broken, ye sought fer sorrow.
Deep in yer ol' man's den tae burrow

Alas! Me eyes nae tae look yer path
Sae fragile yet deep in wrath
Kind love before the moon we long fer
Weep i, hidden feelings we shared.

Yer love sweet yet cold i taste
Wantin' more ae far away hope ye chase
Kissin' pine-breath, sae true and fair
Nae willin', an ol' pledge tae sever

True path tae tak' tears ye kindly resist
Wee man o' this land, sigh i waitin'
Ne'er hope tae seek fer joy in life
Ye waitin o'er the ocean, ae storm sae rife

Waitin' i, ye will walk me way
Mild man ye tae tak' me heart sae
Longin' and lovin', good heart o deep
Fond ye still ae pledge i keep
Alan McClure Mar 2016
So aye
We wir watchin
that David Attenborough
or tryin tae -
fower weans tearin up the joint,
an she's like,
See if youse dinny shut it...!
an aw that, ken -
You no gonny tell thum?
So ah'm like,
Wheesht, youse."

But it wis amazin, like.
These fish.
Years oot at sea.
Tiny wee at first,
dodgin sharks an jellyfish
an aw sorts,
awa oot, miles fae land.
(God!  Youse!  Take it up the stair!
Tell thum, you!

"Aye, boys.  Listen tae yir ma.")

Then wan day, like
they get the urge, ken?
Got tae go.
An in they come,
surgin fae the sea,
these sleek, silver bullets
fat wi feedin.
(I'll no tell yis again!)

Nothin, an ah mean nothing
is gonny stop them.
Waterfalls?  Nae bother.
Just pure hungry
fir the lassies, ken?
The boy Attenborough sais
they dinny even eat!
(That's it!  Ah tellt ye!
Here you!  Take some responsibility,
wull ye?

"Eh?  Oh, aye.
Away tae yir rooms, boys -
yir ma tellt ye.")

These pure ***** divils
will loup up sheer cliffs,
baws burstin, bi the look ay it.
Poetry in motion, ken?
Like, ah dinny ken, pure water
brought tae life, an that.
Jist pure savage.

An then, haw -
they find the lassies!
An it's jist, like,
Done the deed.
Gemme ower,
job done,

An there's this shot.
Ripplin shallows,
just fill ay the twitchin bodies.
Craws an bears an that,
queuin up fir the bonanza.
Jist, like,

An she's aw,
Here, is that no terrible?
Pair buggers!
Eifter aw that!

An ah'm like,

But see inside,
ah'm thinkin,
lucky *******."
She met me up
by th' cooncil juice tower
claise tae th' croft
whaur a'd bin that mornin'
tae hulp wi' th' milking

she wis as bonny as ever
standing thare
in her summery dress
a'd nae see her afore
nae in her schuil uniform
as we gaed tae schuil th'gither
'n' that wis up 'til that moment
whin she staun thare smiling at me

Whaur wid ye lik' tae gang?
she said

ah didnae ken th' areas lik' she did
as we ainlie moved tae th' steid
a few months earlier

Ah dinnae mynd
ah said

sae we traivelt up
th' take the motor tae th' hills

'twas a bricht day
'n' th' skies wur as blue
as ony blue ah hud seen

she stopped oan th' wey
tae shaw me a lairge tree
whilk hud a hollow
in whilk we climbed 'n' sat doon
oan a wee ledge
'n' keeked oot oan
th' deserted take the motor

Ah used tae come
'ere as a bawherr lassie
she said
mah da sgowed it tae me
'n' pretended that wee fowk
hud carved it oot fur me

ah liked sittin' thare beside her
she talking aboot her bairnskip
'n' ah sensing her near
'n' th' reek o' apples 'n' fresh air
'n' ah think ah wis in loue
juist bein' thare.
Marlo Cabrera Jul 2015
Jebs na jebs na ako.

Dumudungaw na siya na parang isang taong kagigising lang umaga,

gustong buksan ang mga bintana,

para lumanghap ng hanging bukang liwayway

Malapit na siyang lumabas,

unti uting tumitigas sa paglipas,

Ng bawat, segundo, menuto,

kung babae ako, dysmenorrhea na ito.

Pero sabi ng mga kaibigan ko,

wag ko daw pilitin ito,

baka naman daw kase

na imbis na ito ay tae,

mauwi lang sa utot.

At pinagmukha ko lang ang sarili kong  tanga.

Umasa, nasapag upo ko sa inidoro na lahat ng pagtiis ko, ang piling ko ay giginhawa.

Pero wala.

Para lang siyang damdamin ko, ang tagal kong kinimkim, ng taimtim sa pag-asang pag ito ay pinakawalan ko, na sasabihin mo na ikaw rin.

Na ang nararamdaman mo ay pareho din sa akin.

Lahat naman tayo dito nag huhugas ng pwet gamit ang tabo at tubig hindi ba?

Pwera nalang kung galing ka sa mataas na estado ng pamumuhay. Ikay gumagamet ng tissue paper o bidet.

Pero ako hinuhugasan ko ang puwet ko, kase ito ang turo saakin ng nanay ko.


Bago ko natutunan ito, ang nanay ko ang nag hugas ng pwet ko.

Para saatin, wala namang espesyal dito,

Pero ngayon ko lang napagtanto, na ang pag hugas ng puwet ko ng nanay ko, ay puno ng pagmamal.

Sino ba naman ang gustong mag hugas ng labas ng butas kung saan lumalabas ang pinagtunawan pagkain.

Kaya kung sasabihin **** hindi ka mahal ng nanay mo, tignan mo lang ang sarili na nakatalikod sa salamin. At sariwain ang mga alala ng mga sandaling hindi mo kayang linisin.

Pero bago iyon, kung sa tingin mo na ang tula na ito, ay hugot lang, nag kakamali ka... Well actually, medjo lang.

Puwera biro.

Kung tutuusin, di' malayo ang pinag kaiba natin sa Jebs.
Kung iisipin, ang mga ginagawa natin araw araw ay mas masahol pa sa jebs.

Kung ipipinta ko ang isang imahe, makikita mo na ang jebs ay nakapahid ang tae sa buong kasuluksulukan, at kasingitsingitan ng katawan natin.

Pero may Isang tao na gusto padin yumakap at humalik sa pisngi natin.

Sino siya?

Siya ay ang Pagibig.

Araw araw lang siyang nagihintay, na ikay' lumapit sa kanya, magpalinis.
Ang gamit niya, na pang hugas ay mga kamay at dugo, dugo na ang tanging nakakapag linis ng katawan at ng kaluluwa mo.

Mula ulo hangang hangang sa talampakan ng iyong mga paa.

At sa kabila ng lahat gusto niya pa din tawagin mo siyang Ama.

At sa imbis na pangdidiri ang kaniyan nadarama,
Pag mamahal ang kaniya sayo ay pinadama.

Siya ay pinako sa mga kamay na ginagamit sa pag linis saiyo. Sa mga dumi na mas madumi pa sa jebs.

Ang iyong mga kasalanan.

Siya ay isinakripesiyo para ay ikay manatiling malinis, at iligtas ka sa lugar kung saan umaapaw ang jebs. At dalhin kung saan ang kalsada ay gawa sa ginto, at makasama ka magpakaylanman.
May seem really stupid at the beginning, but it gets better. I promise.
R Dickson Jan 2015
Ken a' these auld Scots words,
The wans that we've forgot,
Why are we no using them,
It's because we wernae taught,

At hame wi' mither an fathir,
Speaking all and proper,
First day at school,
Speech becomes a cropper,

All yir mates at school,
Coming oot wi' words like bowff,
Saying them in the hoose,
Yir fathir says watch yir mouth,

Rax me oor the poorie,
As ma grama said to me,
Asking her whit she meant,
Gies the milk jug fir ma tea,

Fab technology today,
Smert phones and iPad,
They missed oot wan thing,
The language o' my grandad,

Skype, that's a new word,
Sounds a bit like Scottish,
Was it tae clip you round the ear hole,
That word should be abolished,

If yir no Scottish,
Rabbie's words are a' daft,
All the words that came out o' him,
That was the man's craft,

Whit aboot these well kent lines,
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Sorry aboot that Rabbie,
Stealing that was totally misplaced,

Oot o' bed on wi' ma baffies,
Tae pit them on I need tae sit doon
Sittin' on the chair wi' ma bahookie,
Missed the chair fawing like a loon,

When yir oot daein the gowf,
And yir breeks are a' in a runkle,
Dinnae be a feart tae tac them aff,
If you've got them in a fankle,

Deekin oot the windae,
Stramash on the doon the road,
Some folk getting a doin',
Ithers getting a carry code,

Polis got there quick enough,
Must have a been a hunner,
Saw the big yin there,
He was the heid ******,

The rammy wi the radges
Was just oot side the offie,
Jings crivvens help ma boab,
Some went ben the bothy,

We're all **** Tamson's bairns,
We a' just want tae learn,
We can do it wi' the Scots,
It's a language that we yearn.
Alan McClure Apr 2011
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.
Uncle brought us
boxing gloves
sae that mah younger
brother 'n' ah
cuid kist 'n' nae
hae tae uise ordinar gloves
stuffed wi' handkerchiefs

How come dinnae ye
hae a gang wi' me
'n' ah will shaw ye
howfur tae
defend yourselves
a guid guard
is as important
as a guid batter
he said

sae we did
bit he wis
a grown jimmy
'n' we coudnae ***
a batter passed
his muckle hauns
or he'd throw a batter
ower his defence
whilk we coudnae block-

*** tae block 'n' batter
block 'n' batter
he said

sae mah brother 'n' ah
sparred 'n' tried
tae block 'n' batter
bit we ended up
giein' batter fur batter
wi'oot defence

'n' Uncle said
*** tae guard
uise yer brain
tae prevent pain
block 'n' batter
block 'n' batter-

sae we did 'n' learned
fae him-

he is deid noo
'n' we tae auld
tae batter or block
as wance we hud-

bit we learned  
tae block 'n' batter
thro' lee 'n' a'm glad.
Whare ripples
dreeps awa,
Tha fluid run
tha water braw.

A' triple race frae which it stems
aneath tha starry heevenly hem,
whare a' come an thereby pass
tha rivers edge wha gleams like glass.

Upon tha wintery echo , far weel I ken
tha cracklin tree like a bantom hen,
chuckles oot apun tha glen
aneith tha dark too'ering Ben.

This cul' dark an weary nicht
hulds tha worl' e'er sae ticht
tae tha lays tha lan' does spill
grasps yin an a' therein tae fill

Tae a' tha glory O winter's parade
tha tinsel show, its masqurade.
Fills us a' doun tae tha bane
tae tha spirit O winter's ain.

© Alisdaire O'Caoimph
in Scots
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
One Christmas Eve in Stranraer
I found mahsel' ****** in a bar
Wi' a fat Dumfries ****;
Ach, 'twas easy tae score,
Once I tell't her I'd kipped wi' her Ma.

I spent Christmas morn in Prestwick
Wi' a girl whose lips were aye thick
(not the ones on her face
but in t'other place).
Their hugeness fair crushed ma braw ****.

That night near auld Newton Stewart
Wi' a lass who declined aye tae do it,
I used all mah' charm
And twisted her arm,
But the smell in her breeks made me rue it.

On Boxing Day evening in Ayr,
I met a girl who had a huge pair
Of bonnie fat ****;
They thrilled me tae bits
Before I explored her "doon there".

Galloway lassies are corkers
And Girvan girls are laud squawkers;
But for suckin o' the ****
Tak' yersel' tae Cumnock,
If ye dinnae mind fat spotty porkers.

You're no wondering doubt, in this poem,
Why no lassies have met a fell doom
(so I'll mention the death
of poor ugly Beth
Who got squashed in a ******* in Troon).
Terry Collett Oct 17
Th' hgv driver
tried tae come
doon oor road...

Nae happening
wi' th' wey
they’ve bin bult'
'n' weel ye aren’t allowed
bit sat nav tell
thaim thay kin...

Th' hgv haes skelp
th' ***** doonby van
'n' he’s lost it absolutely
loads his jobby,
shouting swearing
'n' abusing th' hgv driver,
throwing cones
threatening him
telling him tae
*** oot th' cab etc.

Me 'n' Luke gaed doonby
sae lik' cuid check his motor
efter Luke cried th' polis
oan him fur he wis ****** aff
at him fur his recent behaviour
'n' tonight...

Bloke comes back doon
th' stairs efter bein' dragged ben
by his 12 year auld daughter
'n' starts telling us a' aboot
even though we obviously ken
'n' Luke’s juist said lik'
na need tae threaten th' driver
tho wis thare 'n' he’s kicked aff
at Luke... Luke’s juist traivelt
him tae th' polis
boabies lik' c'moan
come ower 'ere
'n' skelp me gang oan...
Daughter drags him
back again 'n' he’s kicking aff
at Luke again...

Luke’s lik' pal
ah ne'er kicked aff
or spoke jobby ah
tellt ye howfur it's.

Listen tae yer daughter
sae he kicks aff some mair
bit th' daughter drags him up...

Polis gang wi'oot
arresting him
whilk is sae annoying  
he then tries comin' doon
again 'n' his ‘mrs’ tells
if ye kick aff again
you’ll be fair affronted
trust me 'n' Luke said,
I’m sure he’ll lik' tae
gie it a gang
bit there’s me 'n' mah
6 foot 18 stane brother
wull be 'ere in a sec
tae gie it tae if he does
'n' he comes doon
'n' apologise tae him.
Based on comments made by my daughter Edelle x
judy smith Apr 2016
When asked what there is to gain while attending college, most of the time the answer is a great experience, time to find out who you really are and how to fulfill your career goals. For some, figuring out what career field to enter and finding out who they are is easier said than done. Others might be lucky enough to have a moment of epiphany and realize exactly what they are meant to do.

Tae Lynn is one of the lucky ones. On the morning of October 13, 2015 she woke up and decided to launch her own makeup brand, Tae Lynn MUA.

Lynn is a senior spanish major with a minor in information systems, however, art has always been a passion of hers. Using her artistic skills she turned the faces of her client’s, into her canvas.

“I had to find an outlet and makeup definitely filled that void. It’s very lucrative and wherever I go people need their makeup done,” Lynn said.

Lynn also incorporated the “hustler” mentality and business savvy skills she learned from her business fraternity, Delta Sigma Pi, to build her brand. She made an instagram specifically to showcase her work, posted fliers around campus and used her connects to start the buzz on her brand.

However, the feedback that she received after launching her brand wasn’t the most positive. People posted negative comments about her work, which almost deterred Lynn from continuing to make a name for herself in the makeup industry until she had that defining moment, an epiphany.

When she went home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving, her car was stolen Thanksgiving night. Everything she had brought home over the break was gone, except for her makeup bag that contained all of the makeup she owned. It was the only thing she brought in the house.

“That was my epiphany moment and I ran with it. From that point on, I felt that was God’s way of telling me that this what you’re meant to do,” Lynn said.

After that “defining moment” as Lynn calls it, her brand took off like a rocket. Using her skills she has been able to meet celebrities, work for a makeup studio in downtown Statesboro and fashion shows held at Georgia Southern. The most significant event she participated in was New York Fashion Week as a published makeup artist.

Her work was noticed by the creator of a clothing line ran out of New York called Wise Guy Apparel. The creator asked her to be a makeup artist for their boutique fashion show in New York Fashion Week.

“I loved being a part of that fierce, fast-paced environment, but because all the models needed were touch-ups here and there, I wasn’t able to showcase my talent,” said Lynn.

Working in New York Fashion Week was definitely a confidence booster for Lynn and it helped her realize her worth, despite the negative criticism. She even uses the hashtag “#knowmyworth” frequently as a reminder that “you can’t let people deter you.”

“Over time I used those negative comments as motivation and I just got better at my craft, so I was able to overcome that through just being confident and knowing my worth,” Lynn said.

Lynn has a Style Seat profile where clients can book appointments with prices that range from $7-$200. She’s also available for booking in both Statesboro and Atlanta, GA. Customers have nothing put positive things to say now about Lynn’s services.

“I like the way my face transformed and it made me look a bit older. I’d definitely go to her again,” Sade McMullen, junior business management major, said.

Lynn plans on making Tae Lynn MUA a global brand one day or at least well known in the south. In order to reach her goals she simply just takes it one day at time.

Her motto is “Don’t shoot for the stars, shoot for small goals that’ll get you there”.Read more |
Steve D'Beard Nov 2012
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.
Govan is a community unto itself in Glasgow, site of the shipyards on the Clyde where you'll meet
salt-of-the-earth people with stories to tell, like this one
Terry Collett Jun 2015
She was a rough dame
Johnny thought
watching her pass by
kind of girl

to take no nonsense
no lip
or give a ear a clip
bust a jaw

and give what for
but there was
an element
of beauty there

the flowing hair
the fine figure
as she walked
the burning eyes

with her backward glance
aff tae Scootlund
she said need
tae gettae wae

nae mair tae say
she said
then was off
with a turn

of her head
and Johnny watched
her go
her firm ***

big *****
***** like
bundled babes
and then out

of sight
like a bold ship
rough riding
in a dark night.
Kerr, this insae a guid attempt
o' making a tray fae wood,
Mr Stane said,
bit it wull hae tae dae.

Ah wis relieved
he hadn't smashed it up
as he wis wont tae dae
in th' bygane wi'
some boy's wirk.

Ah dare say yer mither
wull appreciate
yer feeble attempts
at woodwork,
he added.

He wandered oan
tae th' neist laddie Fergus,
wha's tray wis worse
'n' ah heard th' teacher
lament tae th' laddie
th' ***** o' time 'n' wood.

Ah wis hoping tae
catch up wi'Fay efter schuil
alang th' Ryle Mile,
'n' hae a blether
'n' if jammy a wee winch
'n' promise o' mair tae come.

Th' bell rang fur th' end
o' th' schuil day,
'n' ah left wi' mah
wooden tray
tae shaw mah mither
mah brassic excuse
fur a tray, 'n' e joy
th' rest o' th' day.
peter oram Dec 2011
wee ribbit, hoppin, daftie beastie
a rebber baind is in tha breastie
thou needs but waindie baindie up
and off tha hop
i *** be laith to rin an chase thee
tha niver stop

wee hoppin freggie tha smal laigs
is baitter spring than sailver stail
but i wud giv ye this advaice:
dinna tak a chance
some think tha laigs a taestie meal
dinna *** ta france

nu laieth flattie en the wa'
laik paice o' paeper gon astra'
nae mair tha hoppin in the aer
sae daft an barmy
the ainly fewture fair thee now
is origami
apologies to robt burns...
Alan McClure Dec 2016

See that yin?
Jist sittin there?
Ye ken how she’s sittin like that, don’t ye?
Well, whit’s she sittin oan?
Aye, her erse.
She’s only sittin like that
So ye ken she’s got an erse.
Gaggin fir it.

An whoa, check that yin!
Wearin claes!
Filthy cow!
Whit dae ye mean, “Whit dae ah mean”?
Ye canny wear claes
If ye huvny got a boady, can ye?
That’s right –
Just screamin it, so she is –
“Check oot ma boady!”

Aye, ah wull an aw!
Don’t mind if ah dae!

Aw, mate – that yin!
That yin ower there!
Bendin her airm!
See her?
Bendin her airm like a mucky ****!
That’s so ye ken
She’s got elbows!
Phwoar, I ken your type hen –
you wi yir elbows an a’thin!
Desperate fur it, aren’t ye?

An man!  This yin,
walkin towards us!
Breathin in an oot!
Whit a slapper!
Breathin in an oot!
Aye, ye need a pair o lungs tae dae that,
I bet, eh, hen?
A pair o fine, functioning lungs!
Aye, you use them, doll –
dinny you be shy!
Ah’m no!

Aw pal, haud me back!
This yin!
This yin eatin a meat pie!
Shameless wee ****!
Aw yeah, baby,
I ken whit that means!
Mean’s ye’ve got yirsel
a **** wee digestive tract in there, no?
Ye dinny hae tae spell it oot tae me, love!
Probably got a pair o kidneys
tucked away in there too,
ye ***** wee *****!

Aw the same, ur they no?
Aw ae thum.
Gantin oan it.
The ladye she stood at her lattice high,
Wi' her doggie at her feet;
Thorough the lattice she can spy
The passers in the street,

"There's one that standeth at the door,
And tirleth at the pin:
Now speak and say, my popinjay,
If I sall let him in."

Then up and spake the popinjay
That flew abune her head:
"*** let him in that tirls the pin:
He cometh thee to wed."

O when he cam' the parlour in,
A woeful man was he!
"And dinna ye ken your lover agen,
Sae well that loveth thee?"

"And how *** I ken ye loved me, Sir,
That have been sae lang away?
And how *** I ken ye loved me, Sir?
Ye never telled me sae."

Said - "Ladye dear," and the salt, salt tear
Cam' rinnin' doon his cheek,
"I have sent the tokens of my love
This many and many a week.

"O didna ye get the rings, Ladye,
The rings o' the gowd sae fine?
I wot that I have sent to thee
Four score, four score and nine."

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye.
"Wow, they were flimsie things!"
Said - "that chain o' gowd, my doggie to howd,
It is made o' thae self-same rings."

"And didna ye get the locks, the locks,
The locks o' my ain black hair,
Whilk I sent by post, whilk I sent by box,
Whilk I sent by the carrier?"

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye;
"And I prithee send nae mair!"
Said - "that cushion sae red, for my doggie's head,
It is stuffed wi' thae locks o' hair."

"And didna ye get the letter, Ladye,
Tied wi' a silken string,
Whilk I sent to thee frae the far countrie,
A message of love to bring?"

"It cam' to me frae the far countrie
Wi' its silken string and a';
But it wasna prepaid," said that high-born maid,
"Sae I gar'd them tak' it awa'."

"O ever alack that ye sent it back,
It was written sae clerkly and well!
Now the message it brought, and the boon that it sought,
I must even say it mysel'."

Then up and spake the popinjay,
Sae wisely counselled he.
"Now say it in the proper way:
*** doon upon thy knee!"

The lover he turned baith red and pale,
Went doon upon his knee:
"O Ladye, hear the waesome tale
That must be told to thee!

"For five lang years, and five lang years,
I coorted thee by looks;
By nods and winks, by smiles and tears,
As I had read in books.

"For ten lang years, O weary hours!
I coorted thee by signs;
By sending game, by sending flowers,
By sending Valentines.

"For five lang years, and five lang years,
I have dwelt in the far countrie,
Till that thy mind should be inclined
Mair tenderly to me.

"Now thirty years are gane and past,
I am come frae a foreign land:
I am come to tell thee my love at last -
O Ladye, gie me thy hand!"

The ladye she turned not pale nor red,
But she smiled a pitiful smile:
"Sic' a coortin' as yours, my man," she said
"Takes a lang and a weary while!"

And out and laughed the popinjay,
A laugh of bitter scorn:
"A coortin' done in sic' a way,
It ought not to be borne!"

Wi' that the doggie barked aloud,
And up and doon he ran,
And tugged and strained his chain o' gowd,
All for to bite the man.

"O hush thee, gentle popinjay!
O hush thee, doggie dear!
There is a word I fain *** say,
It needeth he should hear!"

Aye louder screamed that ladye fair
To drown her doggie's bark:
Ever the lover shouted mair
To make that ladye hark:

Shrill and more shrill the popinjay
Upraised his angry squall:
I trow the doggie's voice that day
Was louder than them all!

The serving-men and serving-maids
Sat by the kitchen fire:
They heard sic' a din the parlour within
As made them much admire.

Out spake the boy in buttons
(I ween he wasna thin),
"Now wha will tae the parlour ***,
And stay this deadlie din?"

And they have taen a kerchief,
Casted their kevils in,
For wha will tae the parlour ***,
And stay that deadlie din.

When on that boy the kevil fell
To stay the fearsome noise,
"*** in," they cried, "whate'er betide,
Thou prince of button-boys!"

Syne, he has taen a supple cane
To swinge that dog sae fat:
The doggie yowled, the doggie howled
The louder aye for that.

Syne, he has taen a mutton-bane -
The doggie ceased his noise,
And followed doon the kitchen stair
That prince of button-boys!

Then sadly spake that ladye fair,
Wi' a frown upon her brow:
"O dearer to me is my sma' doggie
Than a dozen sic' as thou!

"Nae use, nae use for sighs and tears:
Nae use at all to fret:
Sin' ye've bided sae well for thirty years,
Ye may bide a wee langer yet!"

Sadly, sadly he crossed the floor
And tirled at the pin:
Sadly went he through the door
Where sadly he cam' in.

"O gin I had a popinjay
To fly abune my head,
To tell me what I ought to say,
I had by this been wed.

"O gin I find anither ladye,"
He said wi' sighs and tears,
"I wot my coortin' sall not be
Anither thirty years

"For gin I find a ladye gay,
Exactly to my taste,
I'll pop the question, aye or nay,
In twenty years at maist."
Terry Collett Oct 16
At weekends
or oan schuil holidays
we'd gang tae th' pairk
'n' hurl th' swings
'n' skiite or th' seesaw  
or hurl aroond oan th' ropes
whiles we'd gang
tae th' muckle pairk
'n' gang tae th' swimmin' pool
whilk wis ootdoors
'n' open tae th' elements
some days a'd gang
tae th' picter-hoose
alone or wi' mah auldjin
'n' watch th' westerns
'n' war films
noo 'n' then *** taken
tae a romance wi' winchin'
'n' soft talking stuff
ah preferred th' war films
'n' westerns
whaur th' fightin'
wis tough.
Jenny Gordon Nov 2018
II Pet 1:9 coming to mind as I finished, lo, the complexity of this piece, and this:  "...lacketh these things is blind and cannot see afar off--"


How Shakespeare's lines 'non haunt the flag's detail
As't waves to bitter winds' capricious sense
Of play, with memries of late rallies thence
In tow, as all we'd grandly strut through'd pale
Before the empty eye of hours that scale
Down what we said was living, as pretense
Leers through the smoky limelight fading hence
Where leaves pile up too thickly for aught bail.
Is't cuz I've tried 'gain to be stylish fer
What fashion and say Vogue mag swore was due,
Tae learn my peers yet scorn attempts in tour?
Cuz even when I did succeed and do
All that "they" said should be, or called too poor
What we thought tops, Death mocks as ere we knew?

Should I have divided up the rather lengthy intro for this portion, or?
Alan McClure Feb 2011
Every day
I'd see them headin aff
in that clapped oot old banger.
He'd nivver get it looked at -
thocht it'd run
on positive energy and a kind word.
If that were true
my fower year apprenticeship
and six year in the garage
wouldny be worth ocht, would it?
But would he come tae me?
He would not.

There they'd go -
the exhaust gruntin lik a vexed rhinoceros
an the fan-belt scraichin lik a banshee.
Ah couldae sorted that in unner an hour.

Ah seen him workin on it wance, mind -
thocht he wis fin'ly gonny change thae bald tyres
But naw,
he wis paintin' ****** flooers on the bonnet!

Ah kin see them yet.
Headin up the hill,
weans in the back,
cloods ae black smoke pechin oot the pipe.
Ah couldae fixed it.
Ah couldae telt them.
But ah didnae.

An they nivver made it hame.
Julie Murphy Jun 2018
Am a lass fae Govan
There a wiz born n breid
When a wiz wee a wiz playing tig oan the *****
N a split ma poor wee heid

Fae Glesga tae Fife
Wiz where we went
Tae a flat in Methil
That ma maw goat fur rent

Tae skool a went like
A scaredey cat, a didny know wit ti expect
Second year it the high skool
Wiz a bit eh a pain in the neck

Home eckie wiz the class
A waaaanted it tae be fun
Skool went well n a started wurk
Tull a wiz cooking a bun

Am a mammy eh 3 noo
Bit wit kin a say?
A replaced the telly
Nae mare tumbles in the hay

Ma weans are getting big fast
Aw gawn ti skool their self
But if a dont shake ma *** now
A might get left oan the shelf
Spoken like a true Glasweigan
The martial arts Muslim is resting on his bed and thinking about his past;
He used to attend a tae kwon do school and his tae kwon do techniques were strong and fast.

The Muslim's teacher had nicknamed him and his classmates "Tigers," which is a fact;
The Muslim's classmates were white, yellow, and black.

The martial arts Muslim had really enjoyed sparring with his classmates;
His tae kwon do class was really great.

The martial arts Muslim had also enjoyed being nicknamed "Tiger," as you can see;
While studying tae kwon do, he also studied jeet kune do from some jeet kune do books and I'm speaking honestly.

The martial arts Muslim had quit tae kwon do school and I'll tell you why;
It's because he had money problems and that's no lie.

Even though he's no longer a tae kwon do student, the Muslim still likes the nickname, "Tiger," which is swell;
The Muslim still practices jeet kune do and that's all that I'll tell.
Arianna Darshani Sep 2015
Im not a good poet but I want to get this off my chest.
Maybe this is too much of a blog. If so, I am sorry.
Nobody has to read it!
I don't mean to misuse this service or to make anyone mad.
I am just not good at poetry
But I believe my words have a rhythm to them.

This is a long and boring post.
Making this post is part of my healing
Even if nobody reads it.

I met a psychopath, I don't use that term lightly
He had been in prison for ****** against his 7 year old daughter
A monster and what most people often call a baby ******.

What was wrong with me, that I did not bolt away like a wild horse?
What made me stay? Is it my Tao to be in their spell forever?
I mean the pedophiles that abused me now forty years ago?

How could I have blocked out his crime?
Where was my outrage for the victim?

He is in Seattle, I am in Minneapolis
But we played cards for 7 months
When he showed me his hand,
I suddenly realized who and what he was.
And I was struck with a sense of horror.

Psychopaths are always charming, at first.
They fool a lot of people. He fooled me.
And I can't get over it.

I broke free, galloped away, but had irreversible damage.
I could not eat or sleep. I was on edge.
I felt polluted, I felt ashamed, I felt gullible
It is why I have the diagnosis of PTSD
because my entire childhood was filled
To the rafters with abuse and this psychopath
Touched upon that in a major way.
They call it a "Trigger" in psychology.

I thought I had burned that house down
But my naïveté and poor boundaries led me
From the paradise of my home
To this psychopath's perverse thinking.
What a sick *******.
I can't even describe
how perverse it got towards the end
So I won't even bother.
Why dwell on a psychopaths sick mind?

I was very sick and in a crisis for ten days
When I broke it off with him.

My last email to him was that,
God is real and that he is going to Hell.
He excuses his behavior with
Bible verses.
That's not going to help him
On judgement day.
He also will suffer karma until
He learns his lesson.
Prison was not enough to teach him

Im starting to sit back and take in the lesson
I've decided that for my own safety
I need to get a lot more paranoid because
Baby rapists and evil people do exist
And I have no radar and no set of boundaries.
Because I was abused so much as a child.

I downloaded an App that lists all
The ****** predators near your home
There are a lot of them and some look like
Your average guy, like the pedophiles who abused me.
Nobody next store but in Osceola, 5 minutes away.

And what about Jared Fogel? Is everyone a pervert?
Why do adult ( mostly men ) need to sexualize children?

I am restricting my easy going temperament
He took what was left of my innocence.
My heart is healing and I have vowed
Not to let him or his sickness
To ruin my good temperament.
Nor my Peace of Mind.

Lastly, I realize that it was by the Grace of God
That I found a loving husband
A man who truly cares, truly loves
In a way I never felt as a child.

As an abuse survivor, the statistics
For me to find a suitable relationship
were slim.
But my mother always told me
To respect myself.

But here we are, 31 years together
Or what my science mind calls
60% of our lives. We are 53.

I don't know how I found "the one"
A broken heart is so visceral and
With so much angst that I feel fortunate
That I've been spared that experience.

We met in Martial Arts class
I had met him at age 19 and he asked me out
I took him up on that offer when we were 22
I worked for my black belt in Tae Kwon Do
He was working on his 2nd degree blackbelt
We trained together for many hours
We hung out.
Ha ha, our first date was to see
The Karate Kid! Also plenty of Bruce Lee!
My husband began martial arts because
Of Bruce Lee.
I started martial arts for self defense
Having been abused by so many men
Made me want to never happen again.

Nice trip down memory lane
Back to the psychopath.
I don't have children and
I am not around any children.

I went to the State Fair, and saw some girls
Only 7 years old, like the psychopath's daughter
When he started his predation on her.  
I felt physically ill that a child of that age
Would have to deal with a grown man
And her father, on too of that.
It is beyond imagination.
I was abused at age 11 and 7 seems
Awfully young. Poor girl.

I felt a sense of nausea when looking at these little girls
That I had befriended a ****** perpetrator
Entirely negating his victims experience.
What was I thinking?

I feel almost like I am guilty because I associated with him.
I feel horrible that I had any relationship
With such a dark and bleak soul.

God bless his daughter out there somewhere
She is now in her 20s
His children are in their 20s and I think
When he has grandchildren he might re offend
I need to stop this and have decided
To contact CPS, and write a letter of concern
Every six months until he has grandchildren

It's the very least I can do.
I've taken a personal interest and
I vow to protect his future grandchildren
From ******, a crime he is not sorry about
He has no remorse, he does not repent
And in that way he can reoffend

Let me go back to my life now
It is almost Fall
And the trees will be brilliant
Thank God, that I realize
I need to out much tighter boundaries
Around myself because being gullible
Is going to get me killed

Thankfully I am not being stalked
Thankfully my life is not in danger
Thankfully we live half a continent away

Let me hold my husband's hand
Let me remember what's important
Let me remember that Im safe
Let me recover from the emotions
Of horror and dread, that have kept me
From eating and sleeping.

Im a bit of a yogini
And I do yoga Nidra
I do meditation
I take refuge in Buddha
I have a faith in Christ
These things all help.

Let the heavens forgive me
For ever getting involved
With a psychopath and for not
Giving his daughter's abuse
A second thought.

This has altered my personality
I am now an activist for victims
Of childhood violence.

I will hear their voices in a way
That is healthy and safe.

Safe. A good place to be!

If you've made it to the end of
This post, I give you my sincere
Thanks and if you did not read my post
I also give you thanks.

C J Baxter Jul 2015
Boldly through the cauld' batters on the sonneteer
wae thick work boots an a sobering heed;    
blisters form on his heels and start tae bleed,
as the new builds part and the river appears.
Doon by the clyde, the old sickly mistress,
he sparks a snout in the ease of the mornin’.
The usual grey sky turns dark wae a warnin’,
but he draws in deeply and breathes out stress.
If only I could follow him further through the city.
If only I could ask how tae write upon these streets.
Should I run with the crowd and speak over beats?
Or speak in concrete and make them buildings seem witty?  
I hink I’ll let this river run until the day I know
how tae speak and spit wae the tongue of Glasgow.

— The End —