Poetry in the Days of Pestilence

Poetry in the time of pestilence. This is my last day at school before I retreat into a life of monkish contemplation. I have a few projects to do with the Holywood Trust (I'm writing a small history) and my school writing group anthology but I have also decided to try and video a poem a day and post it on the blog, for my own and others entertainment maybe. I think I'll gibber for a minute insanely then read a poem I like a lot then a new poem of mine? Those whom I have bored rigid recently will know of my 50 scots poems project on the theme of 'What if?' I may read some of them but in the meantime here's my Scottish Enlightenment Night Out poem. Keep safe folks, see you soon.


Whit if Thaur Wis a Scottish Enlightenment Nicht Oot


It a stairtit in the Rat an Monkey
whan Tam Reid telt Davy Hume
tae hae sim common sense
an he went daft
cos auld Davy theenks
since a knowledge is empirical,
its possible, no likely mind ye,
no to have ony.
Adam said if thaur wis an example
o someyin hivin nae common sense
Tam wis it- look at yon fucking stupit
hat he wis wearin
in this blowsy weather,
like an auld pair odf drawers
crossit wi a fucking tea cosy.
Dugald pipes up tryin
tae breeng saucht
but they a shout him doon.
Naebody fuckin remembers
a fuckin word ye scrieve
quoth Jim Hutton,
yer anely weel kent cos o us,
am seek o ye hingin aboot wi us onyweys
this is a Select Club,
next hing we'll hae wummen in it
and they stapit fir a meenit tae laugh at that
thocht, but then stairt again
an then they a get chucked oot o the pub
an stairt rollin heester gowdie doon the road
kickin fuck oot o each ither
till the French Revolution.