I said, "can I have the same again?"
& the bartender said, "aye."
How affy tender it was they laid me that lie,
For we both know it's impossible.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@trappz
I said, "can I have the same again?"
& the bartender said, "aye."
How affy tender it was they laid me that lie,
For we both know it's impossible.

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i heard they used to speak Garlic in Scotland.
i was leaving the pub
a man cried out
"But I didn't have the chance to insult yous yet!"
Pelters on a melter leve.
Just seen a guy nod at a pigeon.
Once upon a maybe (there was a)
Scottish porn star called McTugs
Love is a flower of blood.
(hands in the air for) The Pelter Skelter
Spagnum & Hot Bracken.
Blame Big Business. People the power be You.
Up North
The castle of the Duke of Sutherland is called DunRobin.
But he isnae.
Pish n Chips
Sea thrift & sunlight.
When where we are now.
Most people move.
Nun of the above.
My inbox is a sewer
Spam sender Amber Salmon
Death Row Chefs
The Last Eunach of Cirencester.
Scrandabidosie &
Fricklediddleddick.
Flacid Cacti.
Imagine
when I grow up
I want to be a part
time sliproad
On arran: daddy
is lego spelled like merlot.
DJ Morgage.
Scalding Pish.
WINCH, KINK HASH, UP THE WORKERS
Vanity is grasping for the wind.
The UK: by cunts 4 cunts.
To cut a long story short,
which is all stories
Topsy Turbo.
Timothy Leering scoured the street with two intense flicks of his crucibles.
Annette Curtains was on her way to the shops as if for Ascot. A bag for life, her daily drooper, troopin along with her. Hector Brocklebank & Ginty Bell were scratching outside the bookies. & Who's this buying clothes for their dog from & shop that wasn't there yesterday?
Lights shine from inside £1 bowls outside grocers. A lady with a crutch in one hand clutches an empty leash from the other. Bellows "HAGGGIS" down red tennement canyon. Car horns respond. "HAAAAGGIS" she goes again.
July whistled down my throat. A choke of rain. my fingers numb round handlebars. I found if I clamped them together there was less space for the cold to get. I’d have a maximum of one glove at any time. I never saw any of my refugees impaled on top of fences.
Who were the people with spanking athleisurewear primming perimeter jogs on the daily as shiny as tubes of toothpaste? How were they so clean?
Overhead an emissary of God dove at sheer pitch into a bosom of leaves.
Some of the rain skittered like there was ice in it. If the river flooded and the pavements levitated I’d swim like a zero gravity scene between doubts, hunchbacked bottles, rodents of both domesticated and undomesticated variety. I'd do backstroke along brown waters. The seasons were not to be trusted. Tarmac was something I could believe in. I saw the river coiling. I saw it bunch up and rare up like a snake. Rise a hundred metres tall. Strike. I saw the tower blocks of Anderston scatter like mice before it.
I wonder where Glasgow began. By this river? Above it? In this river? Show me the place the fish crawled out. I’ll show you them all over town, clad in suits, J20s and long vodkas, wearing cassocks and commemorations, hi-vis and haute couture.
This is the bell that’s always rang, clanged till the birds had nightmares. Clanged till the deer fled this green place.
If you live beside water it can calm you.
If you live above water you go mad.
The river won its own race again.
[till tomorrow]
No, no
the day
I'm away
-after shirkie

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The way a weather wears a face
& some welcome storms
round mundane disasters.
One gormless stane a testament,
to some alphabet.
Meanwhile, a bet on any horse
how is it to hope?
Project.
A past made of tragedy & nostalgia
Muck every fan grate. A gun.
Once was where upon a
He had a recurring dream in which he flew
to different places. But the way in which he gained flight
was always the same.
To be somebody's prevailing
Even in inclement.
Imagine, someone you can approach for forgiveness.
it is the way sea & sky
work off each other constantly
like people meeting on the Gallowgate.
Places where I have pressed
my face, an anthology:
Moss.
When the wind screams, I howl
When the sea surges, I dive
When the sun holds, I beam
He leaned into the gale,
would tilt, raising his arms
and it would take him
and he would rise upwards.
therein or thereaboots
a pair of feet you could've
scraped your face on
and come
back cleaner.
Knew a guy, you'll have met one too. Looked in his aspect like the land on which he worked had stood up one day and opened its eyes. Hair, skin. Looked like some firm and outdoor terror of living memory undomesticated. And in a city, with the big lights on, he looked like a bruise.
Kid asked me if dragons are real. I assured him they were. Pointed at his Granda. "That one's been dragon themself around for a century"

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Four fourty nine pee em, hair dye, bottle of vodka and his N.O.W. That's What I Call Music CD judder along the grey & sticky. She tries not to look at him, he can feel it. "Terrible weather" he says. Facemasks hide anxiety. Hers has a pattern on it. Clean. Could be someone's grannie. Imagine twenty years ago she'd been on Top of the Pops like him. She'd have been in the crowd, dancing along, when the chorus was building glancing at her friends to check and not arms above head, it's national television, but hands near shoulders. The spotlights would reflect in his guitar with the camera below him and a slight soft focus on the lens would be making the pricks into halos.
"Twenty three seventy four please," she says.
His wallet shakes as he finds the note. He digs at change. She's sighed, he can tell, behind that mask. He's trying to shed weight, but she won't laugh at that and he probably had stared at her too much before and now his eyes burn the perspex screen. He could've asked for tips about the hair dye, but he knows his luck today. He doesn't look up passing cafe on the way out to see who's on.
Outside big Asda a grey dog's tied up whining, shivering like it'll pop. He claps the dog. It's smooth as a hairdressers couch, warm like a toaster. Whimpering stops soon as his hand's on it but it's shivering still. He'd go in for biscuits but the owner would be out before he was, then those biscuits would sit in his flat before the seagulls would get them in an airbourne communion. He remembered the seagull run over when someone was chucking crusts on the road.
Dog's trying to sit on its feet to keep off the concrete so he puts the CD from the bag down under it and from the bag out comes the bottle and the cap cracks and now they're warmer. There's a new crack and it's the plastic case with the weight of the dog on it, but it's not cut and he takes another swig and he sits beside it. The shivers haven't stopped so he keeps his hand there and starts singing to her. When he shuts his eyes he feels the energy flowing up from her through his arm up into his heart and out his mouth.
worldwide.
worldwise.
Then when it increased it went spiralwards over the hop style. green fields beamed at red cockrelling its back over the flurrying leaves. wind blew warning winter was pushing seasons on. the great clear out. the deadening, when men gather in tighter groups and drift less like balloons but turn serious with heads bent to purpose. grins knit and toes curl together in tomb. stay in sort out. read up. spring will be ready to test what new you births from that skin.
(1)
I seen a skein of geese
over the highstreet,
Here. You ever seen
a skein? Shaping
sky, a ribbon returning
round a wild world.
Two thousand miles in sixty
hours some of them.
Uplift from Svalbard to
where it won’t freeze
come September.
Families pass paths
familiar, wing a changing order,
usher one another over,
and over alongside,
each other over
and over make metronome of seasons
arrive saltmarsh. Solway.
(2)
When hedgreows heaped with crimson cascade
Where the firth flats slap tides unfrozen
Sanctuary is an expanse
Going home
Sanctuary is a cycle
Coming home.
At the midsteeple
Frayed families push
on from fraught
transits, feed
and preen. Shifts on,
security, split shifts, His
flights of fancy. Their
gabbling.
Families pass patterways
familiar. Their eyes fire
and faces wind.
Scarred folk speak urgent
and low to auldyins
necks cupped, hands craned,
wave towards islands,
sea. Auldyins aye
younguns. Caw taxis to
get the lady on the bench
safe home.
(3)
We are one.
packed actions affect our many.
Come wild, and remember
this life is an inheritance
its interest our experience.
Alongside one another
another, one another,
spread on our journeys
Our skien drifts its contour
along history as we call harsh
and exciting over
and over announcing
our places as we
return round this wild
world, finding our way home.
They came along alone and they left even more so. Have you ever hated yourself for optimism? They thought and knew and had. And tonight, once they left, they would drink until they burnt enough again. Forget again. Wake again and work again until tired again and hopeful again and leave to come along again and feel alone.

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Keeping the fascination lit of the determined and scheming. Weeping the lamposts were that night. Bright spilled fascinations all the crevices gurning their stoor. Fountains of spent energies too petroleum to fade. A city strangled by its obsessions. Clogged with its litters. My mind, pecked to death like polystyrene trays. Skewered like wrapper along chain fence bottom. Engulfed in decay and leaves. Rattling ribs of old bottles. Spineless old cans. Archeologies of faded supermarkets. And the transport routes. Ceaseless trucking of wagons belching vibrations and light along the close-down, tight-lid, last train, night bus only, N-whatever and pish, tins on the top deck. Refreshment at service stations. Slaughtered slumbers and possessive missions. Top flight stairs back to keyholes and the microwave, spill the tap water. Clothes on, lights too. Duvet tundra. Goo yourself slow now.
Minutes clamber the pedestals of slumber. Awakenings to be forgotten, rubber cloaked, fur collared. By dawn all of these machinations will have drained from the machine. To wake under airplane engines and platform announcements. Sirens and construction. Entombed in the whirring and belching and despairing belly of the lusting forever eater, oh great capital. Oh necromancer. Dance city of London.
Man
Age
Agony