Posts Tagged ‘sheridan’

New Year’s Eve, St George Square

December 8, 2014

Haud yer wheesht a wee minute, I canny hear mysel’ speak.

 

[Spoken by a slightly drunk woman, as she clambers unsteadily onto the statue,

Wellington motionless behind her, crowned by traffic cone.

Sporadic volleys of fireworks cascade into the sky.

On the distant Clyde, the last heavy crane, now museum-piece, stands alone.

The flicker of a silhouette against neon-orange.

The noise of revellers dies slowly away.]

 

2014 – here’s to ye. Now that wiz a year an’ a hauf.

 

The optimism, the Saltires, so nearly defeated

Cameron, Milliband and that other yellow wotsisname.

Too close tae call, the papers said.

An they a’ came streamin’ North. ‘Better Together’.

 

But the last laugh was oors. Devo Max.

Dae the ba’-heids think that’ll shut us up?

Nae chance. We have got tae fight on.

 

Away wi’ yer cuts and austerity,

Away wi’ yer tripe aboot a’ in this taegether.

Now Sheridan, he’s no numpty.

He’s one of us, knows how tae fight.

 

He wiz on aboot revolt –

Red Clydeside, tanks in the square.

A long time ago mebbe, but we’ll get there again.

Solidarity.

 

We defeated poll tax, prison, Murdoch, the lot.

The likes of Cameron, dolled up tae the nines,

Bedroom tax for us, while they swap their hooses.

 

They’re never goin’ tae get us doon.

Here’s tae 2015, an’ a new dawn.

Little Scotland

July 18, 2014

The Celtic knot, a twin S.

Adorned Ravenscraig’s gate.

Long empty, the husk. Silent, brooding,

Still casts a shadow.

 

Where there was industry,

Let us bring job seekers’ allowance.

Where there was militancy,

Let us bring sad resignation.

 

Steel-town of rusted girders,

Work transplanted wholesale.

Puerile promise of prosperity,

Evaporated,

 

Like the last dregs

In a once-proud steel can,

Our other national drink

Now lies crumpled

 

Beside  a torn up

Slip. A frustrated bet

On a winded nag which failed to

Deliver. A ballot

 

Thrown on the ground

To the skirl of pipes.

A cross beside “YES”,

A faded pencil saltire.

 

A broken outpost, aside from the battle

Where Sheridan tours,

Denounces the rule of capital

In stentorian tones.

 

Words echo around halls from

Alloa to Inverness.

They cannot carry

To far-off Northamptonshire.

 

 

Notes: Tens of thousands of workers from Scotland came to Corby, Northamptonshire in the 1930s and 1960s, on the promise of jobs in the steel industry. Thatcher destroyed much of the manufacturing industry in Britain, and British Steel was privatised – the jobs have long-gone. The town recently had a mock-referendum on Scottish Independence during the town’s Highland Gathering. Unlike the Yes campaign in Scotland, which is gathering momentum, the town voted No. Might this reflect a general mood of bitterness, anger and resignation to fate?

 

Tommy Sheridan on independence – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6GsEKrCvgw

 

 

 

 

All the news that’s fit to print

August 7, 2011

All the news that’s fit to print

The Soaraway Sun scoops stars’ secrets,

purveys pounds to purchase policemen,

delves into dens of depravity,

shovels shit on socialist Sheridan,

lies that Liverpudlians are looting layabouts.

Media mogul Murdoch mouths abject apologies, accuses all.

Insipid, ignorant, insouciant, infantile.

Hypocritically hedging his bets, he

opportunistically observes the ordure;

jettisons journalists’ jobs

at naughty News of the World.

Cameron and Coulson caught in crossfire of corruption,

bungling Brooks banged behind bars.

Remorsefully reminisces, the red- haired hack:

Lolling around with lots of lovely lolly LOL!

Hacking on horseback and hacking on telephones,

Champagne-chugging Christmases with Clarkson and Coulson in flipping Chipping Norton.

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You can read more of my poetry in ‘Little Red Poetry’: all proceeds go to help build an alternative political party to fight cutbacks and privatisation. Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.