A Worthless Heaven

The system is flawed never ran by the majority

In fact it’s safe to say that it’s ran by the minority

The rich, the upper class, the corporate caste

The implications of these revelations are nothing if not vast

Forgetting our past mistakes is the perfect present for snakes

A worthless heaven intakes the hoard who can afford

The poor thrown over board

while the rest are chained to wages through the ages

The passing of time accompanied by the rhyme of corporate crime


Out-Sourced Patriotism

In Decembers dark dance of the dead

Lay the embers of pasts unread

We’ve shed

Yesteryears affairs for new prison jeans

Our ways and means

Greys our greens

Sinking in the streams

Of our collective dreams

Wage slaves to corporate airwaves

Headlined with early graves covered in flags

Patriotism never so finer

When out-sourced to China

As we dispose of the prose

Of the wilted rose and rotten bread

In Decembers dark and dank

Dance of the dead


Even night time falls in the dark

Pirouetting upon an arc

Hurtling around fusion

This illusion

of stillness

is startling

This vast vacuum ,

a vicious volume

A vacant vile violent void


here’s us

Tiny and on the cusp

of the Milk Way

So here l lay

My back on this ball of ruin and wreck

dirt and rock and a multitude of gasses

In a universe of varying and volatile masses

and I stare at the stars

staring back

through a crack

in the sky

Dawns Rays

The crunch of the ground beneath the pound of sinew and skin

An upside down grin of a setting star feeding foliage with its fire

Warmth to inspire an entire empire of greens and ageing browns

Its retreat marked by sounds of birds singing their bedtime lullaby’s to the sky

So that the light may return the very next day.

And you can feel the thousand shades of jade and honey yellows

Taste the displacement of the mud as it mellows into a new day

Hear the shades of grey give way to lighter smells of pollen and wood

The sight of soon to be found food stretching out into the dawns rays

Shades Of Glasgow

The night skies always glow a shade of red in Glasgow

Whether it be the blushing of the street lights

Or the promise of a brighter tomorrow

A smoke is always easy to ‘borrow’

In this city the humour flows like the beer in the bars

Often bitter but always draws a smile

This is a city who’s elderly turn over BNP stalls

This is a city who’s melody is written in rain falls

This is a city where tanks where sent to crush

This is a city where…

Histories are long broken

Our tales are not spoken

And your usually quite soakin’

But it’s all OK

We live in the heart of shades of grey

Where we sway to the wind, bucky and tunes

As we stumble home through the ruins of an old community

Glasgow’s face has scars and deep age lines,

Yet it still smiles all the time

Bone structure of a Macintosh design

Still looking good even covered in grime

Still whistling to that rhyme about 20 story flats

A city that’s small in size but large of soul

If Glasgow was a person it’d be claiming the dole

It’s a city of joy and also sorrow

A smoke is always easy to ‘borrow’

Or the ‘promise’ of a brighter tomorrow

Whether it be the blushing of the street lights

The night skies always glow a shade of red in Glasgow

Where Were You When Your Roots Got Pulled?

I grew from the ground

A sandbox all around

Rising along-side the trees

Until caught in a breeze

Landing much too hard

In a concrete yard

Gasping for air

As strange beings stare

My body of earth

With hair made from vines

Flesh made from the bark of many life lines

A leaf for a tongue

My voice in the wind

On land that’s been skinned

Partitioned and sold

So my branches fold

Craving land that’s never been ruled

Where were you when your roots got pulled?