Unionists and Loyalists
Stalinists and Rats
wouldn’t know a poem
if it was scrolled upon their Ideological Hats…
A poems not for Order.
A poems not for Change.
A poem is for eyeing
all the wierdos and the strange.
More than meets the eye
blindness cannot see.
To love a secure lie,
Is safe enough for me.
To kiss our family forever
without a bad placed word
it worse than avoiding
standing on a turd.
Poems are little handshakes
Poems are little eyes
Look, touch, feel, see
As hearts they do survive.
All the Glasgow drunks
are lost Situationist punks
they smash the face of order
piss on the doorway of duty
rant at the suburban softies
at night, commit high murder.
The family are painting the boys
old childhood room: so the
childhood is finally beneath them.
Society: you big abstraction
you are and you are not
part of a globalist plot
to make us all the same
imprisoned behind bars of Hope.
Love love love:
You fit like a glove. You walk hand in hand.
When both gloves are lost call for divorce.
Until then: your immaculate - white as the dove.
(hmmm, this wasn’t particularly successful)