The Liar's Plight.

The tenements shrieked
The streets gave way
Old Glasgow looked
In disarray
Cars were stopped
Roads were closed
A standstill! Gazes,
People froze.
And then they came
Not one or two
But a hundred thousand
In a sea of blue
The people gasped
Some shed a tear
As the sight of hope
Came conquering fear.
The diners' faces
Glued to glass
Some scratched their head
Some scratched their arse,
Windows, doors
Flung open wide
Smiles they beamed
And tears they dried
They felt our pride
For they were us
Their shivers ran
But stood robust,
Plain and honest
Scots to greet
Their kinfolk marching
Down our street
They waved to us
With smiling face
And cast the torrent
From this place
The sun shone bright
In every heart
Of every Scot
Who played their part
Now tell me
There's no appetite
And I'll show you
The liar's plight.

Paul Colvin.

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More from @PaulJColvin

17 Dec 20
The Blanket.

The nameless ones peer through eyes
Where death is sent to rest
Their dingy hideouts, coveted,
By a mind that’s now possessed,
The etchings of a weary face
Is where trust must not take hold
Their stories stay within them,
They are stories seldom told.
You chastise them and who they are
Never knowing who they were
You amble down your busy street
Then quicken in despair
They are the dregs, the lowly scum
Who are not worth your time
And only see them in their failings
Bickering in medieval mime.
These peasants who revolt you
Sprawl beneath a gilded door,
Showing half their body’s flesh
To the window dresser’s store,
Their hand gripped to a paper cup
That has seen much better days
By the twitching body, still alive,
And peering through a glaze.
Read 6 tweets
26 Aug 20
I Am You.
Take me in your hand and show
The love that we both bear
Walk with me and show me off
Show them that you care
Let them see your guardian
That hovers overhead
I’m the one they lower down
In remembrance of my dead
I am the cloth of hated pride
Of innocence and gore
I am the ancient crofter
No longer on these shores
I am the one who stirs you
And fills your heart with pride
And swells your heart and fills your mind
As we walk side by side,
I’m the swathing shadow
That sweeps across the land
I’m the cloth you cling to
As passion floods your hand,
I’m the one you march with
In battle or in peace
I’m the one enveloping
The bones of our deceased,
Read 5 tweets
25 Aug 20
Are ye angry enough?

Come Back.

They board the trains as usual
An’ take their appointed place
An’ then, withoot exception
They suffer their disgrace
Whit’s the point Ah ask masel,
As a million others dae,
O’ sendin’ doon oor people
Tae jeers an’ boos each day.
Get the fuck away fae there
Ye’re better than that mob
Ignorant, arrogant bastards,
Righteous fuckin’ snobs
Pompous cunts the lot o’ them
Evil tae a man
Dae the right thing fur yersels
An’ get oot while ye can.
How can ye fight fur Scotland
When ye’re constantly ignored?
Jist get up and walk right oot
An’ slam that fuckin’ door,
Whit’s tae be gained fae ignorance
Slapped daily in yer face
Ye know ye don’t belong there
In the great hall o’ disgrace.
Read 8 tweets
19 Jul 20
Happy 50th birthday FM.

NICOLA STURGEON FM.

Some aspire to greatness
Some are thrust on us to serve
And sometimes, if you're lucky,
You get what you deserve
She is never complacent
Her vision is clear
And it's the will of the people
That leads us to here.
Do you not wonder where
We found one like this
Who talks freely to parents
And their baby she'll kiss
She'll then stop, pose for selfies
A hundred or more
She's the one who puts country
And her folk to the fore.
She doesn't walk up
And ask if she's allowed
She dives right in, freely,
She's a part of the crowd
She's revered by a public
She's not some superstar
For up here in Scotland
You are who you are!
Read 6 tweets
5 Jul 20
The Border
They were scorned, scoffed & ridiculed
But were they ultimately feared
As they embarked with all their etiquette
At our southerly frontier
In truth would they have been there
Had our border been controlled
To stop that great contagion
Laden with the thought of gold
Let them wander to our wildness
To a place they’ve always been
Unchallenged, maybe courting
A deadly virus that’s unseen
Let them carry that, the pox or plague
Just to ease a crippling debt
And to play their game of death with us
In their own Russian roulette.
They bring with them their wealth
But the odd unsavoury fool
Who think with their superlatives
It’s best if London rules
They heed not Scotland’s guidance
Nor pay attention to our laws
But bring to the world’s attention
Theirs is a just and selfish cause.
Read 4 tweets
11 Jun 20
You speak of that bastard Sutherland
And that monument raised on high
But there were plenty others of your ilk
Who put you on those ships to die
And when you reached those far off shores
You became the persecutor
Then banished those as you were banned
And were now the executor.
Some held Crann Tara in their hand
Cloaked in the devil’s guise
The long white gown with mitred hood
And holes cut for their eyes
They took the blacks and set them off
And chased them through the night
Then hung them from a local tree
To prove supremacy was white.
See the mountains in their glory
Or the sweeping hills to shore
Walk down to the broken pier
Where the slave ships dock no more
Taste the salt hang in the air
And smell the fear of death
Or watch the child, cold and still,
Taking on her final breath.
Read 4 tweets

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