First off all..I would like to wish all out there..somewhere on the wind...all the very best for 2004.
I hope to continue my contributions for awhile. Thank you all for your support for this fledgling poet....

I'll end this years writes..with what I consider a very ugly poem....
This is my opinion and I wish no one offence..
In my native tongue.. the words used were the ugliest I could conjure up, for a subject that is equally vile.

I know many of you have loved one's serving in this sad affair..and I wish not to blight their honour, for they are duty bound....
My own detestation is for a fellow Scot, who is responsible for sending British troops on an invasion mission, much to the horror of the British public..

WAR...2003
.......

In the deep dark depths o’ a brimstone well
‘midst the stinking stench o’ a fiery hell,
sat a gurglin’ demon o’ the vilest kind
wi’ the vilest happiness upon his mind.
An’ this cur-sed demon wi’ an evil grin
relished the thocht o’ the latest sin,
o' the humankind far above.......

Wi’ a slimy rub o’ clovens, he
laughed at the thocht o’ the human fee,
for the wagin’ o’ war it’s a michty price,
nae chance for the cock a’ crowing thrice,
nae gaein’ back for the choice o’ pride
an’ the thocht that God’s upon your side
is arrogance indeed....

On the silken throne sat the naked chiel
he was ca’d the Prince or the ebony Deil.
He was beauty bad, he was fair o’ face
he was angel eyed, but he fell frae grace.
He had chosen Pride and he braved his fa’
and the chosen few had answered his ca’
likewise the realm o’ mortal men...

Lucifer laughed and danced wi’ glee
and howled at what his een did see,
upon a desert made o’ sand
In an arid place they ca’ a land
the spilling o’ a red blood gush
the silence o’ a nations hush
when hellish fire consumes.....

He kent that War wad hae it’s say
an’ in the cry o’ Love’s decay
lyke jackals an’ the dogs o’ war
wha feed upon the bluidie glaur,
devour reason for to sate
their luve for death and lust for hate
they unleash Satanic help...

Sae Nick he sat upon his dowp
an thocht on men aboot tae cowp,
ithers o’ their kind intae his sluice
the bloodless faced bereft o’ juice,
the bonny bairn wha’s nae been born
the many deaf tae Gabriel’s horn
the blind wha niver want tae see....

This was aince again his hour
he felt his demonic sense o’ power,
an that fool God up in the sky
wad shite himsel’ as passing by,
ignoring his son’s New Testament
as aff tae War they marching went....
tae hell...an' niver back.........

Sae cam ye a'..for Bush or Blair
a’ ye auld ghouls that dinna care,
wha ca’ for war an’ waving flags
ye soulless, dugless, harpy slags,
kiss the deil's ever proffered arse
your christian concerns are but a farse.
What ken ye o’ love ?...

An a’ ye sojer lads wha dare
tae tak the gun withoot a care
tae flee intae the jaws o’ hate
the ghouls o’ War their pleasure sate,
Ye’re souls may noo forever rest
as fodder for demonic pest,
wha chew your balls wi’ sharp toothed pleasure....

Lucifer.. he languished on shitty stool..
an slavering snot an’dreepin’ drool
his cards were trumps an’ high his goals
his lust for fun..he’d hae his souls.......
Wha ever won this earthbound War
when they passed through the bloody haar..
Were his tae keep.........forever.........


Graham...2003