What Happened When He Hit The Space Bar

At Last, The World Began.

In the beginning, Man gave names to all the animals.

"You're a plastic band

of elastic proportional

representations," said Man.

"Oh Man," replied the sticky back

newslpspaper, rolling up

their green sleeves.

"I'll call you, Alexander,"

said Man to the frog

down the telephone.

"Listen Here,"

said the Insect,

"zzzzzzzzzzzzzz 

w=a=l=t or 'literature and oatmeal'

it is well known
that people once said,
and have repeated often since,
the following curious sentence:

‘we cultivate literature on a little oatmeal’.

‘Culture’ is a debased term.
It refers to Radio Times and Sunday Supplements,
but if it were to be rehabilitated
it might be clear why we also see ‘culture’ in yoghurt.

and here’s the rub. This, from William Power,
of Sir Walter Scott:

“His gentry are seldom
much more than lay figures,
and their womenkind are
insipid to a degree
that ought to have astonished
a period in which
passionate episodes were not
uncommon in Edinburgh. . .
On the other hand, this Tory of Tories,
who rose from a sick-bed to
protest passionately against the political
enfranchisement of the common people,
attained Shakespearean heights in his
portrayal of the humble folk of Scotland.”

Variations

My bonny lies over the ocean,
My bonny lies over the sea,
My bonny lies over the ocean,
O, bring back my bonny to me!

***

Ye cannae shove
yer granny aff
a bus a police car
passes perhaps ye can
get picked up for vagrancy

***

Yer granny she'll be
coming roon the mountain
over the ocean my bonny lies

***

To take it further:
I notice I am next to Bells
Since 1919 it is even worse
to notice I am resting
outside the Police Station
pondering the legality of collecting
words on signs at least
Mi Lui Peking Cuisine is
Fully Licensed

***

My bonny is bi-lingual
I said the strangers
passing by wear different skin
& I waved no goodbyes
back home but I here
faces

***

I hear ye cannae shove
faces over the ocean but this
Will not be named exile

***

As long as you want to find hope,
I'll lend you my fishing rod,
If you're still longing for hope,
I'll send you £25 a week via direct debit.

***

We're going to the Oxford Circus,
No that's the Police Station (remember?),
'Who are you calling,' says a walk-on
part with your mobile at all accosts.

***

This is not necessarily a love song
so what
I Love You So
what

is the reason supposed
to rhyme with your sharpened
tooth-marks. I miss the roof
of her mouth more than the
learning curve of her breasts.

***

[Removed to save face]

***

This is my vision
This is my vision
Can't you see
This is my vision

***

1 2 3 O'Clock 4 o' clock rock.
Stand still. Where was I?
The wheels on the tube go
round and round, round and round

***

I'm So Over
the sea to Skye already.
Stand clear doors opening.
Scots wha hae!

***

What's the best way to put it?
Aff the buss, over the ocean,
in the sky or high below.
Hanging, drawing, quartering.

***

When I lay my head on the pillow,
I'm extremely glad that both are there.
When I lay my head in the oven,
I say 'It's getting hot in here . . . '

***

Please Turn Over

Interested?

It certainly pays to be with the right
insurer. That's why I personified It.
He &/or She has a wonderful
personality which is a measure
of how much of a spirited person It is
clear by now that the poet
nervously breaks
down town reminding Itself
that It's easier to lead than follow
the Pied Piper (fat bastard!)
simply learned his slithering scales.

no way. By max beerbum

hello. did my gut explode? not exactly

but it did come as a shock, reading

‘wendy cope is perhaps the most accomplished

parodist since beerbohm’


twice this week i’ve had calls from the telegraph

asking if i want to try it for a reduced

rate of three fifty a week; i had to quickly calculate if

that is less than I currently spend on toilet paper


and decline. hello

The Plastic Coated Cards

by C.J. Stamp

The plastic coated stamps wear their enveloping
troubles I've seen all my gays
in happiness we trust you are sporting
fine bright colours sincerely cecilia

BRILLIANT IDEA

our commandante needs a rest

u.k. imitations never quite work

a newsflash in the middle of the night

after half a century at the helm. It

would betray my conscience to

damage the celebrations:

in what senses is tom raworth not

an american poet? the cordial atmosphere

did not last long:

a total trade embargo?

learnin the meanin of coversation

'so fucking mean, no seriously,
you are so fucking mean;
you ought to learn some manners.' '

i'd'le ike to meat your mother'

'what the hell do you mean by that you turd'

'i'm een wo ta say'

'you're making this much harder than it needs to be you moron'

'fur cough'

'i'm leaving'

'sob item e'

ithyphallic

meet his demise
purely for fun
weedingbegin
a sad
end
a
l
a
s

The Great Poets

The greatest poet in my view is Colin Herd.
He is standing behind me.
The mirror is before me.

The greatest poet in my view is tall,
although that might be because
I am sitting down.

Mirrors are deceptive,
much like great poets and
predictable know-its.

Yours, Charlie Chaplain

Chilly Willy

None of them made me come so ACTUALLY
I haven't had sex in ages. I think the fat
one did, anyway. So what did hag say
about this work experience? Alex?
He's in the zone man the zone
get him out man kick him.
You working at home tomorrow
No I'm working in town all week this week even
friday? Time to travel back and forth
late like eleven or something like that
I 've got a double chin do Ah?
Everyone has a double chin when
they do that where are you
going to do a wee-wee.
Chilly Willy I think that's your plaster
on the side of the bath which you made
me promise to tear off you. Chilliewillie?

Coline-Break

poetry came in my heart

even though i said not to;

i moved suddenly and screamed

and scorned and, scared, poetry

left me, scarred;

i usually let a man if

i know i want to be kissed and

i usually let a man know if i

want to be kissed and it’s not so

quickly.

poetry came in my heart

my who cares heart

my trivialised, marginalised, tranquilized,

ratified, gentrified, dissatisfied heart.


settled dusts on it


what’s that picture you are holding,

is it of me?

it fell off the wall?

“did you go to the palace…

it’s best just to get a feel for the place”


contemplating decisive action i

trigger a google-search for

denis roche


“ok well phone me any time this week…

except for wednesday, i ”


find works of art, sleepwalking:

do your parents ever worry about you?

“open?”

contemplating decisive action, i

Cutting Review

'I'm not sure where it lies but it lies somewhere': The you-cannot-be-serious-poetics of Willy 'Alexicon' Singermouse, a Review by Penelope Cutting.

Everyone knows that a 'True Scot' is a poet whose 'devices' are left to dangle free, and Mr Singermouse's devices are certainly prominent. Take a look at the first four lines of his poem 'The Loch Ness Monster':

'O, Nessie my lassie, have you been to Tallahasse?
I'm not sure where it lies but I'm sure it lies somewhere.

O, Nessie my lassie, Oh Nessie, you really shouldn't have,
I mean it's an adorable token of affection but'

It's not only his sassy sibilant rhymes, but also his dogerrific rhythm, and monstrously cliched subject-matter. And yet who is this Nessie? What is her 'adorable token of affection' and what's the problem with it, why are we left hanging (dangling) after the 'but'? My favourite line in the poem is the second, which is why I've chosen to title this review with it, but then I am a girl who loves thin, tartan-veiled puns. You can imagine, therefore, I'm sure, my delight at the seventh line: 'Come back O Nessie I need to feel your ripples'. And the Tenth: 'Are you in America, I mean the US, Nessie'.

Is it just play? And should we care? Does it probe to the heart of anti-americanism? ultra-americanism? americolonialism? does it point towards a new sincere vision for Scotland? Or does it ponce about in the rubble of tourist-friendly falsity?

Is it a love poem? And if not, what else?

The truth is I don't know. I really can't be sure about anything at all. I'm not sure where this poem is lying but I know it is. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that 'Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies'. Willy 'Alexicon Singermouse''s nearish namesake Alexander Solzhenitsyn said that 'We do not err because truth is difficult to see. It is visible at a glance. We err because this is more comfortable'. Henry David Thoreau said, 'Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.' George Orwell said that '

In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.'

The Loch Ness Monster

O, Nessie my lassie, have you been to Tallahasse?
I'm not sure where it lies but I'm sure it lies somewhere.

O, Nessie my lassie, Oh Nessie, you really shouldn't have,
I mean it's an adorable token of affection but

O, O Nessie my lassie, how much did it set you back
like a clock o Nessie tick tock to me Nessie please

Come back O Nessie I need to feel your ripples
among the bonny glenfiddich et cetera

O, Nessie I'm sure I saw you on the Simpsons.
Are you in America, I mean the US, Nessie,

O Nessie if so please swim back over before Auntie Americanism
hunts you down and miss takes you for a replica.

The New Scottish Language Poetry

Welcome on in to the cyberhome of The New Scottish Language Poets.

Manifesto:

1. Colin what should I put as the first rule?
2. This Will Do.
3. Ignore chronology.
1. Ignore chronology.
4. Slowly become resigned to the importance of chronology.
7. At all costs clarity is an expensive business that should be taken seriously to the third or nth degree of burning your bridges at university.
8. Joinin . . .