Copyright jim ferguson 2017

Jim Ferguson

poetry

Scotland, You are Holier than thou

 

back in the 1690s

we used to burn witches,

half a dozen children

from Paisley Cross

strangled and burnt

for dancing around

after dark on the braes

 

these were our ways

holy ways, holier than thou

 

back in the 1720s

people were gaoled

for putting on plays

ah, theatre

that thief of priestly magic

and fully immoral displays

 

these were our ways

holy ways, holier than thou

 

back in the 1820s

for resisting

industrial tyranny

hundreds were gaoled,

for putting the many

before the few

and placing reason

above royal religion

some were murdered

and others betrayed

 

these were our ways

our holy ways, holier than thou

 

and now it is time

to pick on the feckless

drug addicts, drunks and the sick

to make an example

of daft young men,

of the poor

of the mad

and the weak,

blame the blacks

blame the fans

blame the unemployed

and the queers

for society’s falling to bits

 

 

 

 

it’s time again, you say,

to dish out the misery,

to indulge in

calvinist catholic sadistic prayers,

it’s time for vengeance

it’s time again, you say,

to make the deviants pay

 

such are your ways, oh Scotland,

these are your ways

your holy ways,

so much holier than thou

 

340 art of art of

jim's collection the art of catching a bus & other poems is available from AK Press of Edinburgh.

the Scottish Book Trust believes that AK Press does not exist but if you try to order the book you will find that it definitely does exist.

Click on cover for link.  

links to poems on youtube...

 

Ms Mati becomes a mother arse battered auld clock blissful-times - selected poems

links to more of Jim's poems in on-line publications...

Read Raw - Selected Poems postcard poem in god we trust bedtime often the rich complain hurt and happiness Govan Postcard

dreamtime

if Roberto Bolano is right about one thing

it is

that a writer needs plenty of time to dream

 

big dreams, little dreams

crazy dreams, real dreams

sweet dreams, bad dreams

it doesn’t matter what kind

as long as there is time for the dreaming

 

            *

 

                       it was then i held her left hand

                       in my two hands and said,

                       i love you.

                       but i don’t love you, she replied.

 

             *

 

this is why long hours

working in low-paid jobs

doesn’t do any good

for anyone

who wants to be a writer

 

and

 

this is what the real

unfortunates stuck real fast

in low-paid shit employment

will find difficult about the writer

 

    -  why do writers need all that time to dream?

 

of course

the fuckers who will never

grasp the remotest possibility

of what this dreamtime means

are the slightly higher paid wankers

who boss the low-paid around

 

at least the low-paid have dignity

those little hitler bastards who boss them

they aren’t worth a fuck

2 Folky Lyrics 2 political poems This is a list poem Jacket2 - Ms Mati Helicopters in the Sky Remembering Evie M. The Treacle Well - Berlin Shots images (3) John Lennon's Elbow Culural Fuck-ups