bodach brist as aonais chlaiginn

hallo hallo ciamar a tha sibh uile. Cac nan con, is iomadh mallachd eile air mise agus mo dhuthaich. Alba nam bodach is nan cailleachan a tha gar riaghladh airson ar puinnseanachadh agus mar sin air adhairt. Co-dhiu, gun dail, seo dan;

With hunger my corpse twitches
With sleep it twitches more
My death has come to this it seems
The end of sap, of pith, of gore
The dwindling strength in my rigid limbs
Gropes for the hand of my bride
Who murdered me for her revenge
I spoke to her too much, I tried
But failed before her appetite
And ego, oh I left her cursed
She'll sleep alone tonight
And ever after in her hearse
She'll wonder where she went astray
Why look for love in the worst
My reason speaks to her alone
Be responsible for those you lust
No fleeting glee is here
By god and all his minions
I'll see you smitten to me dear
But her stubbornness is all in fun
And she crushed me like a fly
Because my corpse was stricken
In the grave in which I lie
Then she dug me up and listened
For my pleas of conciliation
But her shovel cracked my skull
As my words began to fail
At the beauty of my killer's hull

Cha b'urrainn dhomh cail a lorg mu dheidhinn Alba, ach seo fear mu dheidhinn fearas-riaghlaidh mar as abhaist

Presidents are all fascistic
Kings are dead and worse
The future of the community
Is beign led out in a hearse
As the leaders of the police state
Proclaimed their message of peace
In all shades of democracy
The cry was give it some grease
The oppression we never notice
The murders we avoid in shame
The death of freedom came at night
And nobody took the blame
For the on-going crimes of the white man
In Korea there's five million dead
And here there's no hope for my friends
Their brains collapsed as they bled
And onward to a world incarcerated
Or executed by your choice
Either jailer, cop or psychiatrist
Will be the one to silence your voice
And whether they do it for malice
Or take orders from those at the top
The choice is between anarchy
Or death from a fascist on the job

So dan feargach dhaibh

Daily dementia
While poising at the gates of hell
My time is retrogressive
I'll end up dead before I'm well
But if I shoot the doctors
Their hearts will fill with molten clay
And I'll be embarrassed
If I'm not martyred by the end of day
Too many monsters
To hearken back to peaceful times
I'm broken and heartless
But vengeance surely will be mine
As doom befalls the Labour fascists
The Tory staats don't have a chance
I'd rather listen to J Mascis
Than vote for anyone in a trance
Monsters come and victimise
With harpy's blood our lungs are filled
But all the harpies are republican
With democrats our hopes are nil
There is no future for democracy
There is no future for the Reich
Only in a stateless communism
Will mankind's days emerge from night
So socialise the means of production
Expropriate the state
Thatcher dies under Blunkett's hearse
The end is near for hate
And psychiatry will be abolished
As soon as socialism comes
Anarchism is the war of classes
Sedation means that no-one comes

Agus a-nis fear eibhinn

Jack MacConnell is a fascist
He sucks blood cells daily
Kowtowing to his London masters
To crucify the poor and saintly
The Kurds who're dying at his demand
Shouldn't die but kill
All immigrants should shoot patricians
Of every sort, the graves to fill
With murderers of humanity
The nazi-heirs without end
For where is the justice in choosing
To deny the brotherhood of men
By rascist policies enclosing
Humanity in its rage
If we can't rise up
And rid ourselves of this governmental plague
It's just that others do so
And remind us what they flee
In all countries in the world
Be it Kurdistan or Zimbabwe
There is no peace not now
When men live under states
But if they kill their masters
There'll be an end to hate
Here we fight psychiatry
We're doped up to the eyes
And haven't got the strength to fight
The duces and their lies
But if a man from worlds
That don't know sedation
Should shoot our crowned kings
There'll be general elation

Agus sin e bhuainne a-nochd air radio nan gloic, chun an ath thuras, oidhche mhath leibh.

co-chordadh nach bris

hallo, hallo, tha rudan a' dol gu math ann an chez Ceannfalamh, agus tha mi air duilleag 57 a' ruighinn nam nobhail, tha seo an deidh na h-ar-a-mach agus iomadh fhilleadh eile sa phlot. Ach co-dhiu, 's e bardachd a tha nad aire, agus mar sin, seo e

God forgotten monsterisms
Preach death to the dismal defied
All kinds of hopeless posturing
Bring intellects to be denied
By material causes of state
And monsterish causes of Satan
Lenin dictates and Trotsky overrates
The mind with their program of raping
If toilets are meant to be flushed
To expel their cargoes of waste
Lets purge ourselves of the fascists
Who dress up in red let's make haste
Before the world is condemned
By men who from heaven descend
To live in a Labourish night
And dream of a Tory nightmare
The ideology is becoming irrelevant
It's power that makes us aware
That command is the opposite of love
And rule the antithesis of freedom
Let's annihilate all bureaucrats
Beginning with Satanic huns
All members of parties are dead
All voters make faith their death wish
It's time to clear out the zombies
And make them a fillet of fish
How much nutrition in a Tory
How much sustenance in Labour
Tonight we dine on Communists
Tomorrow we'll do you a favour
By pickling your councillor
And broiling your MSP
All Gods are dead all politicians
Are entrees made of Tweedledee

Eanraig Eanraig feumaidh gu bheil fios agad air cat Eanraig 'S e cat socair buidhe a th'ann

cheers
dai

bliadhnachan gun dragh

UIll a chairdean, de bhur naidheachd? Tha adhbhar eile agam a bhith toilichte a-nis, fhuair mi brath bho charaid ann an Lunnainn, le teachdaireachd gaol, ged a bha an deoch oirre, chan ann a h-uile latha a gheibh mi rudeigin mar sin bho dhuine sam bith.

Agus bhruidhinn mi ri mo leighiche inntinn ur, bladebladebla

A-nis tha mi cho sona nach eil mo bhardachd a' nochdadh ach mar rud ro-bhronach, ach cuiridh mi e an lathair fhathast.

I chase the spirit of a woman
And beg for a difference of place
If I had happened differently
My mind would still be chaste
And as unaccustomed to insanity
As the heart of she that dies
In my dreams but always lives
And gives to me her lies
Which alter the structure
And deploy the denial
Reality crumbles
And I'm still on trial
In a court with no appeal
The church of the restrained mind
Where people disappear in their sanity
And murder is all you can find
For cures are against the logic
Of medecine and the state
The poor loonies drop their bodies
At an ever increasing rate
Into the pit of rebuttal
The deafening silence grows
Where the victims are avenged
Well no-one ever knows
Who should speak for the silent
Whose life is ebbing away
If we destroy all patriarchy
Then the Nazis will still get away
My love was murdered by women
Who wanted her to die
And now I'm returned to the hospital
Sedately for to lie

Gu robh math agad a chairdean,
agus tioraidh
D

latha math a bhalaich

Fhuair mi naidheachd an-de a bha fior thaitneach. Fhuair mi ceum aig a' chiad ire le urram bhon Oilthigh. Agus a-nis tha mi cho sunndach nach urrainn dhomh cail a radh, gu dearbh, 's e latha math dhomhs a th'ann agus latha math cuideachd dhan a' chinne-daonna, heehee. Fhuair na daoine eile sa chlas 2;1 an urra. Nach math sin.

Ach, airson cuimhne a thoirt dhaibh nach eil beatha sona aig a h-uile duine, seo dan muladach;

First-born evil that I bore
The curse of Satan's envoy
The sickness that spread with touch
My misery should be employed
A depression-mill to furnish me
As a useful member of the world
My tears will turn the greatest wheel
That she ever saw, my banner furled
Lies upon the breast that others caress
Just to drive me madder
The envy that goads my rages
Speaks murder her grow sadder
But I who've blasted all from high
Still clamour for their solitude
So I can find my god's reward
A suicide in rectitude

Ho Ho Ho, Nollaig a' tighinn trath, tioraidh,
Daibhidh

da dhan nas giorra

Hallo, a chairdean, tha mi a' togail dan dhaibh, nas giorra an-diugh, o chionns gu bheil mo chridhe gus briseadh on a bhith ag eisteachd ri Malcolm Middleton, co-dhiu seo iad

No death today, I've beaten back
The hordes who clamour for my doom
I can live just now in fortitude
My future scours away the gloom
Of depressions lies; there is no hope
Without them I needn't suffer
The joy of song it soothes my heart
And melancholy thoughts are buffered
By this phrase; I love you
That madness whispered in my ear
Brings solace to my lonely days
Even though she's disappeared
But maybe there is love withal
In delusion's fits of paranoia
The bonds of earth exist in time
And sing, chan eil thu ann, mo dhia

Tha gaol agam air an te bheag bhan sin fhathast, ach co-dhiu

The real comes out like a hydra
And nips at the heels of the meek
Who crucify all they can to regain
The reticence, the flesh is now weak
But all gods lie within them
And speak there of delights and urges
I wasn't raised by you my friend
I belong to others, no purges
Will save your pretty Stalinisms
The force of the West that imposed
My parents on me like the white man
The past of my heart is now closed

Tha gaol agam oirbh uile a eudailean, hee-hee
Cheers
Daibhidh

Air ais uair a-rithist le maighstir nan ceannarcach

Hallo a-rithist, tha mi nas sona na bha mi, o chionn gun do choinnich mi le mo charaid a b'fhearr bhon a' chiad da bhliadhna aig an Oilthigh. Se duine laghach a th'ann agus tha e a-nis sgriobhadh airson paipear naidheachd, ged nach ainmich mi an dearbh fhear. Tha mi gu luath a' dol a bhith nam bhodach, gun chiall, gun naire, gun uaill, ach le naimhdeas dhan ar uachdarain a' gabhail aite an tur a bha nam cheann. Ma tha duine sam bith ag eisdeachd, tha la a' deanamh sgeil do la fior mhath, agus torr na b'fhearr na am fear mu dheireadh aig Aonghas Phadraig. Cha robh am fear sin cho math, nam bheachd, bha e ro chothromach mu dheidhinn cogadh siobhalta na spainne, agus ro romansach mu dheidhinn caraidean bruideil, a bha a' dochann a cheile, ach a bha cur suas ri cheile cuideachd. Carson? Co dhiu, tha mi a' faireachdainn gu bheil mo litricheadh agus mo ghramair gam teireachdainn, le dith cleachdadh, agus gun a bhith gleusda orra, de rinn mi aig an Oilthigh co-dhiu?

Ach, theid mi air adhairt le mo bhardachd, cha duirt duine sam bith gun robh e sgriosal, agus mar sin,

By unnatural poison all devices
Are hatched and slowly brought to bear
The thoughts of hope that do escape
Are spurned as unbefitting wear
For the outside world of traps and fission
My words lead on to my rotting corpse
And are spurned also for submission
To the historical; my state, of course
And rebellion is strangled
At birth by sheer midwiffery
As doctors project your path in life
Thrown overboard from a local ferry
By the gangland thugs that rule the roost
And have secretaries to boot
To purloin the lives of millions
And crush the feeble underfoot
It's pain at once that brings it back
The plots of capital to unhinge
By stripping them of their discipline
Reticence and an awkward cringe

An ath fhear

Madness has a noble past
When we wandered through the woods
I kissed her, not fearfully, as I should
But in accord with the voices by which I'm harassed

Whose crazy time means Joukahainen
Can't find a girl to ease his eyes
Except for the wench who he already is
He's twenty times the women

That in my lucid phases
Scratch my skin and out comes honey
I will kiss again it amazes

That barren pills will never reach
The truth kernel inside this bunny
Sex is more coloured than bleach

Rinn mi beagan atharrachadh air sin fhad's a bha mi ga taipeadh, de do bheachd, a bheil e airidh air barrachd?

Despair, despair has disappeared
I tremble with new life
Along with a new urge
To find the anti-wife
A wench who'll copulate carnally
And not be content with Plato
If I'm ready I'll as ever be
Dead to the worldly world-o
To live alone is plenty
To fuck alone is weird
If I could contradict the two above
My fortune would appear
A life lived as living fool
O gelatinous goo of love
If I could be a globule
I'd preach to God above
There is no warmth in the abstract
My heart needs bodies bare
Just as Nazis need a penis
On which to turn their glare
But penis Nazis are the worst
Of all the types of wench
If she'd contradict me lovingly
She'd be no fuhrer wench
But a return of les paysans
The slowly courteous desire
Which moulders in her bosom
And scalds me with its ire

Sin agaibh e, air an larna-mhaireach bidh mi gur toirt air turas tro choille ioma-dhathteach Inbhirbhriogais gu ceann loch Achadh nan Giobarlagan

hallo hallo a dhaoine

Nach math e a bhith beo, fhuair mi tiodhlac bho Dhia an-diugh, ach chaidh e a bith aig deireadh an latha, dhearbh sin gu bheil rudeigin ann nach eil sinn a' tuigsinn. Ach co-dhiu, seo mo thiodhlac dhuibhse.

Joyfulness is potent
Potentiality or bust
My loving returns to haunt me
My thoughts thin and their husk
So happiness is found in laughter
Sadness in the death of me
If I could choose I'd be forgiven
For all the crimes I pledged to be
And all the wishing I lead onwards
Is forgotten in the time of dusk
When sleep falls upon my slumber
And faint hearts prompt a blush
On the face of the woman
I lived for yet never loved
Until the day we parted
Love came upon me unawares
And I regretted what we'd started
Reveal to me the state of man
Encapsulated in your skin
The human race must have a future
If your beauty is akin
To the hope of restitution
That men carry to the grave
To lie beside your nakedness
Brings freedom to the slaves
All contours create a happiness
That many never share
If I was then now you are
Eternally aware
Of all the love you grow in me
Of all the pain you ease
If I could caress your chest
My heart and will would please

Le gaol air na boireannaich

Triple-headed Janus skies
My three heads are heavy, there it lies
If I were a witty god
I'd burn the fruits of consternation
But as I'm all for sparing the rod
I'll begin to hatch the disputation
In times to come I'll be remembered
For bringing man to plenitude
There never was a god in man
I use them as a subterfuge
When willingly I crush the mighty
Beginning with the death of Brown
BLair is prey to wenches flighty
And that will promise me the crown
Of folly and antipathy
The sweetest truth I found by chance
The rule of man degrades the ruler
Oh Nietszche still with romance
If any man can crush redeemers
Why can't any man become a god
All proles dispute the heaven-breathers
And then they rise and bring to sod
The men who grow such sickness
In those who never fall for sin
We have no need to feel revenged
But wish to grow and spread our wings
The state is an obstacle for superman
If love is true there is no need
To deny our love with morality
Love for all becomes our creed
If Jesus crushed the life of laughter
And Kaiser Blunkett does the same
Then in solidarity with refugees
The revolution comes, there is no blame

Tha mo cheann cho adhartach ged a tha mo bhron air liathadh

Treacly trips to providence
Are unlikely to fulfill
The word is not hear
But a presence and a will
I use the gods to kill the monster
That becalmed me with myself
If I could become alabaster
I'd kill as many as have health
In this world of sipping folly
And drunken penitence
I'd rather appear dead than jolly
And contradict the statutory sense
That time provides us all with time
And not a condemnation
We live as though we never could
And die in indignation
That no-one killed the God in Christ
Before he killed the God in us
All men are capable of redemption
There are no sinners, only us
So live a lifeof sanity
Refrain from harm, from guilt
And traverse the times of disappearance
By redeeming those they killed
The dead shall live, in living die
But death holds many charms
If you could predict when
Then you'd find so many arms
In which to lie before your time
With which to love before you pass
So death is better than un-life
It gives life now to the mass

Chan urrainn dhomh stad a chuir orm

I lived my life as a slave
And watched the romans pass
Grimly by my pagan grave
Dance about with Yarilo
And strew the ground with seed
I reposed then with Angus Og
And learned to make my fingers bleed
As I touched her fur gently
My mind was slowly deranged
By the high priestess of vulgarity
Oh the sacred, oh the range
Where we died continuously
For days and nights and days
Until I woke one morning
To be burnt by dawn's new rays
She'd stolen all my life it seems
And left me alone in the dark
My death made precious little sense
As I chewed on bitterness bark
Till the poison reached my neurons
And seeped into my sap
I'm pithy now or just pishy
And my eyes have turned to crap

Bratach dubh-dhearg air a thogail a-nis
Gur fada beo spiorad na h-ainn-riaghailteas

Agus mise leis
Daibhidh Ceannfalamh

deoch, deoch is tuilleadh dibhe

Bha am fear ud mu dheidhinn na Boilseabhaics direach sgriosal, ach a-nis tha fear no dha ur agam dhuibh. Chaidh mi gu partaidh oidhche Shathairne, agus bha e math, bha an deoch orm gu ire nach d'rinn mi adhaltranas le te og a bha a' smeideadh rium, ach de an diofar? Tha mi a' ceannach torr CD's aig a' cheartuair, tha Mic is Nigheanan gle mhath, tha na Srianan Geala math fhein, ach tha MacCarthy nas fhearr buileach.

Leis an ire de dheoch air m'inntinn nach gabh cuidhteas dheth, seo am fear ur agam

Reason is as reason does
Track it down and you're lost
My quest to trace the roots of my sense
Has left these words below embossed
On my chest "Beware this walking corpse"
As the death in my mentality
Bids me rave against the night
As a pointless quest of my fatality
Like the singular wight
That the fledgling thoughts embraced
As the utopia I strained to touch
But flinched when her fingers traced
The words I found on my scalp
"I die for love more than once"
But every season I dig myself up
And take her out to lunch
Where we talk of the inevitability of death
And the quickening release of madness
Which keeps my mind under wraps
And aware of all her sadness
We've passed beyond the pale of love
And drift in the sea of individuality
There's nothing to bring us together again
My mind has snapped, there's finality
So reason was and reason lived
But unfortunately it died
As on the shores of the Roman Empire
The free gave up and cried
No more peace hereafter
Look what follows, ritual murder
And eventually the luftwaffe
Their bombs will fell the walls
That minds have built to protect their truth
"Humanity lives on, as a rock"
But reason no, It's been and gone
And my quest was just an aftershock

Tha sin gu math bronach, ach seo fear nas aighearaiche

Tomorrow, as with all the dead
Belongs to another story
Where I'm no longer ambulatory
And yellow mucus fills my head

The death that stalks beyond my bed
Encapsulates whole decades of time
That're only just propelled by rhyme
And not by mourning for the dead

Begone forthwith foul remembrance
I haven't died for this
I still struggle in a druggy trance

But for her hand her rounded thighs
My mind can still recall her breast
I ceased so as to recognise

tum ti tum, cha bhi moran air fhagail agam as deidh seo, chan eil e cho math sa bha mi'n duil, ach co-dhiu
Cheers
Daibhidh

a-rithist

Hallo a chairdean, nach eil e iomchaidh, smaoint a ghabhail airson nam fogarrach bochd a tha a' tighinn dhan duthaich seo airson cobhair agus an aite sin 's e na h-uile a tha iad a 'faighinn, bochdainn agus grain-cinnidh. Chan eil e ceadaichte dhaibh obrachadh, agus ma tha iad a' call an tagraidh aca, tha iad a' call an dachaigh, agus feumaidh iad fuireach air na sraidean, gun taic no cuideachadh oifigeil sam bith. Tha e follaiseach gu bheil seo a' tighinn tro ghrain-cinnidh ar riaghaltas fhein a tha gan sparradh air ais gu duthchannan far am faigh iad bas, neo dochann, neo eigneachadh, neo a h-uile rud eile a fhuair ar ceannardan ann an oideachadh bho na Naisich anns a' Ghearmailt.

Ach, a bharrachd air gearan, seo mo bhardachd;

All born losers Bolsheviks
With no heaven in their hearts
They tease, they hurt, they execute
And then they tear our souls apart
For what is there apart from love
That they should hold above us all
I can't forsee the end of their
Crusade to have us whipped, I stall
In wonder and in disbelief
At the hatred held for fellow man
There's no longing left for peace
Or gentility beyond the plan
It's begone to wisdom, farewell to just
We're more than that, we need, we burst
The pain of governments and states
We're alone at last, beyond their fate

Cha toil leam Commanaich a bharrachd air calpachasaich, nach mi tha neo-eisimileach

Brain pickles, the sharpest sweet
My mind will follow its shell
I lived and died while on my feet
And slept and dreamed as well
So now I'm a collision course
The crash-test dummy of love
I'll meet the derision of lust
In equanimity, as above
I've watched myself dodge all the given
And live on a wing and a prayer
I'll find my own watchword in heaven
Dustbuggery or something will ensnare
For nonsense is only the passing
The truth of all that escapes
The bondage to land and rehearsing
The just in all of her drapes
My mind's never seemed like a pickle
But now I suck it to see
Which end is rather more fickle
My hope or depression in scree
Which slides and distorts all the future
Until I despair when I speak
The words are leaving the adventure
Of life in the concrete that's bleak
But cages are built and remain
And murders are done inside prison
The world should be sunk on the main
To remind us we never did listen

Agus am fear mu dheireadh an diugh

My heart belongs to a youthful
Corpse that lies in the past
When I lived with almighty hope
And dreamed of trust and betrayal
And not as now I grope
That nightmares come to flail
Over the place where my life was buried
So many years before its time
The clock turns its hands to worried
I'm like a dog digging in the grime
For a bone, or an eyeball translucent
That tells me which one is true
I'm not meant to live with this scent
That sticks to my hands like glue
From the hair of the girl that I murdered
By refusing to open my mouth
And now my mind's all buggered
I might as well tell the truth
I have no heart left
I've been pickled by neuroleptics
My hope is passed with her brain
And so I answer the sceptics
Anarcho-Communism or Death

'S e sin dan airson Sarah bochd, a chaidh a mharbhadh le pillichean inntinn ann an Ospadal Leverndale ann an da mhile sa h-aon, neo dha, chan eil mi cinnteach. Ach bhasaich i co-dhiu, agus chan ann tric a chithear caileag cho snog neo alainn rithe nar laithean-ne, leis na trioblaidean a bh'aice na h-inntinn fhein.

Trugarez deoc'h
Daibhidh

Spontus eo da vragou

hello a chairdean, mus bi mi anns a' phriosan as deidh na G ochd, bidh mi a' feuchainn ris a' mhorchuid dhe mo bhardachd a chlaradh airson bhur tlachd, ged is beag a tha sin an coimeas ris na gheibheadh tu bho bhith gearradh dheth t'ordagan. Ach co-dhiu, corragan ann no as, seo a' phios dhen latha a tha a' toirt dhomh an sonas as motha. Trulais a thoirt nur n-aire, airson's gun cnuasachaibh air cho beag ciall a bh'agam nuair a sgriobh mi e, neo cho beag ciall a th'agam a-nis a bhith ga claradh an-seo. Belarus, bha mi eolach air duine a thainig a Belarus, agus 's e duine gu math laghach a bh'ann. Chan eil fhios am ca bheil e a' fuireach a-nise, thainig e a Minsk, agus sdocha gun do sparr an riaghaltas uile-mallaichte againn air-ais e dhan an duthaich sin fo Lukashenko, an deachdaire mu dheireadh air Tir-Mor na Roinn-Eorpa. Ma tha Vadim a'fuireach ann an aiteigin, far an leughadh e seo agus mas e gun do dh'ionnsaich e Gaidhlig, Dobry Utro. Spakwene Nosh agus iomadh rud feumail eile a dh'ionnsaich tu dhomh ann an Ruisis.

Co-dhiu, mus bris mi an co-chordadh a tha eadarainn, seo tri dan agam dhuibh,

The beauty of the mute surpasses
Anything that lay within my heart
She kissed my brain too long and now
My mouth has not the strength to part
My lips which once she saw sublime
My teeth which made her laugh
I drift along the streets like dust
My words float on the wind as chaff
And in my sense I suck a cancer
The chasm in between us two
It grows upon my mind with glee
And ruptures cells and human glue
Until I shake with trepidation
At the sight of any blondish hair
And curse her in my evil phases
Her youth my bane, oh I'm aware
That love is fickle at an age
Where commodities have taken root
It's not worth trust or confidence
She hoards me like some human loot
But pity strikes all unforeseen
And love's glory brings to bear
The justice unknown in madness
She'll remember me, that at least is clear

Fear mu dheidhinn ghaoil, agus fear mu dheidhinn fearas-riaghlaidh

As Britain descends into Fascism
I watch the screen for a sign
When will Blair become a Fuhrer
Or Blunkett proclaim himself next in line
As the undying heirs of the Nazis
The cartel drew up the reins
With Straw sending bombs overseas
New Labour will siphon your brains
And murder the last of the victims
Who their arms exports have harried away
And silence the voices of protest
Against corpsism, the Reich and the state
With a bludgeon held by the cowards
Who dress up in black every night
To frighten the poor and unhealthy
Into giving up the last of their rights
A global police state beckons forth
The leaders build it piece by piece
And the less you do the less you can
It's over there is no more peace
But a welcome glow of solidarity
Still grows as we take up our arms
Agaisnt every fascist in every position
Be it leaders, or followers, we fucking harm

Agus a-nis, rudeigin buileach eadar-dhealaichte

Briogais agus mi, mo mhisneachd
Si a rinn an rud nach ceart
Chuir i mi gu bun na lochan
Airson suirighe le bana-shagart

Cha robh briogais oirre fhein
Nuair a thanaig i nam rathad
Agus, thuirt i, stu tha maslach
Chan e Dia a th'ann ach bod

Uill, uill, nach sin tha sanntach
A bhith ag aithris mu fheise seun
Leis a h-uile biod dheth breugach
Ach sin a rinn mi na teis-meadhan

Nuair a bha a ciochan sgapte
Bho cheann an ear Loch-Tatha
Gu ceann an iar Eolagarraidh
'S e rud doirbh a bh'ann do mhna

A bodach pasgadh as am meadhan
Gun fhagail bodhar leis na bh'ann de dh' fheoil
'S i bha ceacharra an latha ud
Ag obair air-san le a beoil

Gus an do shluig i siol nan daoine
Bodach coir ga thraoghadh fhein
Ach an rud nach fhacas tuilleadh
Am bodach coir mus tig am braidhm

Hee-hee, nam faighinn bana-shagart, bhithinn toilichte, ach chan eil moran dhiubh ann nar laithean-ne.
Co-dhiu, tioraidh
Daibhidh

frionasachd na h-inntinn sgoilte

Ciamar a tha e a' dol leibh? Cha bhi mi a' deanamh cail ach sgriobhadh an-drasta, agus dol dhan bhaile mhor airson leabhraichean a leughadh. Ach, tha mo nobhail a' tighinn air adhairt. Tha mi suas gu duilleag da-fhichead sa tri. Mu deich mile fhacail.

A-nis beagan propaganda;
Na bhot tuilleadh, cruthaich do bheatha fhein, na cuir earbsa ann am fearas-riaghlaidh an t-saoghail, tha e uile coirbte. Cuir as dhaibh. Dluthachd an aghaidh nam maighstirean. Co-obrachadh an aite co-eigneachadh. Ceannard=Ceannarcach

Siud sin seachad, tha mi buileach nas fhearr a-nis

An-diugh, tha bardachd ann an da chuid Beurla is Gaidhlig agam dhuibh.

Seo a-nise e

All preaching, no desire
Can link me to that corpse
The love that burned in blinding fire
Has left me blind, of course
To search through the woods of passion
For love and lust so oft betrayed
Has led me to the answer, fashion
My joys shall leave the girl dismayed
As I dictate my terms of allegiance
My heart spins off in the dusk
My loins are infested with dalliance
My brain divested from her musk
All time is stalled, all growth unhinged
By the love that hope forgot
My cancer spreads through all my limbs
And the additions self-harm begot
To leave an imprint on the world
Is how this monster pledged his troth
I'll skewer my heart as a bitter child
Whose words are sung but not written both
By monsters of this Frankenstein
Dr Hoyle how do you feel?
When faced with the almighty crime
The singers sing but are not real

Sin mo dhan as fhearr air mo bhreisleach. Mur eil thu gam chreidsinn, gheibh thu a-mach ann am bliadhna no dha na rinn mi. Ha ha ha Thuirt iad gu robh mi as mo rian, ach seallaidh mise dhaibh.

Agus a-nis, mar a gheall mi, dan ann an Gaidhlig

Sdocha nach bi moran dheth sin a' nochdadh, oir leugh mi iad, agus tha iad sgriosal, ach co-dhiu

Cha robh gaol agam oirre
Ach sin a mharbh gaol
Le a bodhaig cruinn ach caol
A' bruidhinn rium gu corporra

Carson a tha thu diuid
Tha mi air do shon
Ach chaidh mi tuathal, carson
A bhithinn nam bhruid

Gun charthannas a ciochan
Gun iochd a ton is broilleach
Cho alainn i nam shuain

Tha i cho aotrom torrach
Ach mharbh a bodhaig cein
M'anam sracte corrach

Hee-hee, sin e. A-nise, theid mi air ais gu tuairisgeul air an ar-a-mach Albannach

duisgibh a bhoireannaich

De tha dol agaibh? Fhuair mi fiosrachadh an de gu bheil nobhail Gaidhlig eile a-mach, fon ainm Dacha mo ghaol, sann le Tormod Macgilleain a tha e, agus tha e coltach gu bheil e fior eirmseach. Ach cha do chord an da a thainig a-mach aige roimhe rium cho mor, ach tha mi'n dochas gu bheil am fear seo buileach nas fhearr. Cha bhi mi leughadh na naidheachdan cho tric, ach mhothaich mi gun do bhot na frangaich agus na Duitsich an aghaidh bun-reachd na h-Eorpa. De bh'ann ach plana airson cumhachdan priobhaideach nan companaidhean mora a' sgaoileadh air feadh gach raon dhen seirbhisean poblach a th'againn a-nise, airson's gun deanadh spuinneadaran a' chalpachais barrachd prothaid na tha iad a' deanamh mar-tha asainn. Ach co-dhiu gheibh iad doigh tarsainn air na bhotan na aghaidh, agus bidh iompaireachd ainn-chinnealtach neo-chothromach na h-Eorpa a' sgaoileadh a freumhan a-steach nar coimhearsnachdan bho seo a-mach. Gun ach na fir fearas-riaghlaidh agus luchd na grain-cinnidh a' cur taic ris.

Seo dan eil dhuibh;

The ugly phase of life it seems
Has come upon us all at last
We've withered from its earthly touch
Disfigured now, and in the past
To rot, to mould, to putrefy
Is all in all a worthy fate
For those of us who can't begin
To claw at fortune, make too late
For love or money, fame or choice
Democracy is a great disguise
To hide the sickness there within
My elephantine looks surprise
And hearts embittered by the rush
For the golden idol of betrayal
Still speak as though they understood
What happiness was before the fail
Of all man's grand schemes of hope
Largesse is not the mark of sanity
But resignation surely is
In this land of happy vanity
So bleach your minds, and gel your thoughts
In time for reason's paupers
The eunuch-loving politicos
Who branded all your daughters

Nach robh sin eirmseach fhein?

latha gun a' ghinideach

uill, uill, bhuannaich na h-Albannaich am ball-coise an-diugh. Nach eil coir againn taic a chur riutha airson na rinn iad. Ach ' s e duthaich gun chiall neo beartas a th'againn agus, nach biodh e na bu iomchaidhe an stat a bhristeadh as a cheile na amadain a leantal gu call eile. Hee-hee ni sinn a' ghnothach air an t-saoghail gu leir! Co-dhiu cheannsaich sinn Moldova agus feumar ho-ro gheallaidh a dheanamh air sgath sin.

Bha mi ann an staing a' taghadh de an ath phios bhardachd a chuirinn romhaibh. Agus air sgath sin, tha mi a' dol a chur tri a-mach agus nam b'e gun tig cail air ais bhuaibh bidh mi air mo dhoigh.

Tha am blog seo gun moran chiall ach,

All prisons are fascistic
They suck the life out of the soul
And when he surveyed his hole
He thought "the truth it makes me sick"

The mind how it weakens
When tongues and conscience disappear
The refusal of fear
Left him in chains, the plot thickens

A terror war unlike no other
With lands so holy as the prize
But where's the depth of holiness

The life has died in his eyes
And the point of faith grows less
With the rise of official murder

Hee-hee nach eil sin Alba an aghaidh nan Sasannach ann an dan deanta goirid.

Slippage of the fundamental
Toilet training for the poor
My flatmate's made of metal
And daubs his face with spoor
If ever I become a preacher
I'll sodomise the business class
With a copy of the Good News Bible
Like Jesus only more exceptionless
In time I'll find forgiveness
For the Aryan Nation's crimes
But only when Blair and Blunkett
Are tarred and feathered and smeared with lime
And then I'll see the future burning
In cities all across the globe
As the police begin igniting
Their chief constables for inciting Jove
The godless minions cry forever
Let's set about our hearse-like feet
And barbecue ourselves in rubber
Just like they did with men in sheets
Goodbye forever Ku Klux like a chicken
Who give milk as black as pitch
The temps defendu share around
The robes to be unstitched
And burning crosses are seen
In churches all across the land
Along with burning congregations
To death the hour is now at hand
When we murder righteously
The fascists at our head
And then onward into the future
When Paul McCartney's dead

Ahh Pol bochd

If the world ends today
I'll be happy come tomorrow
When it begins once more
And youth will let me follow
The woman of my nightmare
Who ended all my pain
She begins a new rebuttal
I am not really of the brain
But a body falling downward
Into the gardens below
Where orchards let fall their fruit
And I'm left alone to flow
From one cave to the next
Not knowing where the dead
Have made their homes beneath
To hide from those they led
Oh God, these men are monsters
The Dictators of our time
If we could burn them blindly
From heaven's depths I'd climb
To reach a peaceful earth
That finally had a point
Government escapes reason
But humanity anoints
Humanity with all its hopes
If we're different we're the same
But all in all indifferent
To monsters and their fame
The world's too good to die
And Africans are too beautiful
For mother Europe's cages
And I think that I know why
The human race is one
Despite the division of laws
If we were once united
We'd escape the leading maws
So banish fear of statesmen
Indulge in love of freedom
And perhaps in time unknown as yet
We'll be worth each other's time to come

Carson a tha mi a'cur rann amaideach romhaibh,uill chan eil fhios 'am ach 's mathaid airson ur cinn a sgoltadh le m'inntinn. La di da, nach bu choir dhuinn a bhith moiteil as na balaich, cho beartach ged nach eil iad fiach dad. Ah co-dhiu, sin mise airson latha eile.
A-nis tillidh sinn gu ar program sanasaichte Leighiche Co?

cha do thachair an ar-a-mach

Mont a ra mat ganeoc'h?(Ciamar a tha sibh?)
Setu ma c'helaouin (Seo mo naidheachd)
Uill, bha lige a' phop uabhasach math, ach lorg mi rud a-mach mu dheidhinn Tony coir. 'S e drungair uabhasach a th'ann agus tha e ri grain-cinnidh a bharrachd air sin. Ach uill co-dhiu, chan eil feum agam fuireach comhla ris a-nis, agus 's urrainn dhomh a sheachnadh cuideachd. Ach, 's e cuis-mhulad a th'ann cuideachd, carson as deidh ceithir bliadhna a tha e ris an aon ghorachd is amaideas a bha e riamh. 'S docha gur e gloic a th'ann, ach sin e. Co-dhiu, tha obair trang romhainn leis an ionad soisealta ur againn. An ionad "Saorsa" air sraid Coille a' phollag. Bidh e na lochran do chuisean ceartas soisealta agus tasglann dhan obair a tha airson a' cheartais sin a thoirt gu buil, a bharrachd air an ar-a-mach a thoiseachadh. 'S mathaid.
Agus airson a h-uile duine a tha airson mo bhardachd a leughadh, seo pios dheth.

A monster newly led
Into paradise exclaimed
"Why are all those people naked,
And what does milk and honey mean?"
The death of all discrimination
The Pharisees have lost some weight
To be too long in Gehenna's fire
Means penitence for all, the great
Lie around in pools of blood
The Yaks have wandered from the heath
The collapsing souls of Christendom
Bring fratricide from lands beneath
To this table monsters come
And stroke the skin of she who lies
But death has stretched her hands to her
Be young again, the monsters cry
All the wisdom there in nudity
Proclaimed that watchers' eyes are bleached
The blindness that resulted
Meant years of pain for me to teach
To you I reckon that you'll learn
My wisdom now as ever false
I lay with her is now denied
In suicide's ever druggy waltz.

Yippee, agus yec'hed mat d'an holl, (slainte mhath dhan a h-uile duine)