hallo a-rithist

Hallo a chairdean, de bhur naidheachd? Chan eil moran a' dol agamsa, tha mo nobhail air duilleag ceithir fichead sa sia a ruighinn, tha e fhathast uabhasach, ach co-dhiu. Tha mi a' sgriobhadh an-drast mu fheallsanaich air eilean Oronsaidh. Ach chan eil iad nam feallsanaich abhaisteach, tha iad nam paganaich agus gun moran stath nam briathran. A bharrachd air sin, mhothaich mi gu bheil da leabhar ur Gaidhlig a' nochdadh sna buithtean a dh'aithghearr. Gymnippers Diciadaoin, le Martainn Mac an t-Saoir agus Na Klondykers, le fear og a Leodhas. Tha an da gu math fada, agus sann le dochas a bhios mi gan ceannach, airson's gum bi rudeigin agam a leughadh ann an canan mo chridhe. Chan eil bardachd agam dhuibh an-diugh, tha mi air fas sgith dheth, ach cuiridh mi rudeigin suas ann an greiseag, nuair a lorgas mi am fear as taitniche. Ach, seo pios a sgriobh mi o chionn greiseag.

If there's a time for dropsy
I surely haven't found it
The misery that madness means
Finds a day and then surrounds it
With tedium and bitterness
An insanely bitter dude
My heart's so sick I'm dead
And mawkish, foul and crude
I don't know why if anything
I'm still longing for her touch
It's been so long I could have gone
And won the last world cup
The festival of hate I missed
The gloom at break of day
If I were anyone else at all
I'm sure I'd've passed away
But still I'm here and lonely
The lonely parasite
The breaking of the stones
The burning of the night


Other suicide sonnet

No words for longing strong enough
To reach the future and unhinge
On one unearthly reason binge
Subjective life is fairly duff

When my brain seeps like water
And my libido is thwarted
I'm connected or courted
My love her won't reach her

In the world that I detest
The bells start to ring
At the passing of my chest

That holds memories of sun
The memories that sing
Ah! Now the end's begun

Tha iad a' dol sios ann an luach, nach eil, co-dhiu, sin mise.

an stuth mu dheireadh

Hallo, a chairdean, chan eil mi air a bhith cho trang sna laithean mu dheireadh. Ach mhothaich mi gum bi da leabhar ur Ghaidhlig a' nochdadh aig feis air choireigin ann an Dun Eideann aig Deireadh a' mhios. Gu dearbh, tha an fheadhainn a chuir Ur-Sgeul a-mach fior thaitneach, agus sann le dochas a tha mi a' coimhead an fhoillseachaidh. Gu dearbh, tha Tocasaid 'ain Tuirc gle mhath, a' cruthachadh dealbh de Nis mar sgire sona, stolda, ann an coltas ri Deireadh an Fhoghair agus leabhraichean mar sin. Tha e a'toirt dhomh fior thlachd a bhith ga leughadh, an coimeas ri Dacha mo Ghaol, a bha eibhinn ann am piosan, ach a bha feumach air barrachd leudachadh air an sgeil.

Co-dhiu comhla ri sgrudadh litreachais, seo mo dhaintean mu dheireadh a chaidh a dhiultadh.

There's a crisis in their butchery
The state is built on dope
And anyone who rebels
Will go follow the pope
Into a state of monkery
The nuns fuck each and all
In the rising tide of bureaucracy
All have a junkie's pall
The smack-heads are the victims
Of a plot the goons impose
On us all, its government
The curse of these and those
The agencies engage the warlords
And they pollute our veins
So fuck it all let's kill
All those who hold the reins
Who hold us in thrall to witchery
The meaning of the past
Is outdone by the present
There is no truth at last
We live our lives catastrophically
And slave and toil for none
Except the cause of submission
Our roasting's almost done
For religion is just hell on earth
The cause to live for the dead
And capitalism is the same
Which bursts out of your head
To speak of love and holy thunder
While ripping tendons and thoughts asunder
Is all their love has ever meant
Our justice here is heaven sent

Yryn-ai-tojon said to his wife
Farewell, let us flee
We've spent so long forgotten
That no-one makes their plea
To us as masters of the world
We'd rather sink our teeth in flesh
The donkey child has spoken
As his parents leave the creche
To bring us a new sacrifice
The American chief on a plate
No God grows mighty from murder
And in fact his power abates
If there was ever a need for mythology
We'd redeem the Christian mess
Gods are descended from men
And Jesus was never blessed
With the lightning caress of a bosom
The derangement that proves fickle
When lusts begin to mingle
And hair is found to tickle
If so he'd spend less on love
And more on Antichrist
There is no God in churches
Religion is a heist
Except when any man
Proclaims himself a greater god
Than the popes and Presidents
Who live their lives to sod
So freedom is the answer
To God and Jesu's riddle
If anyone sees themselves as holy
What right have we to quibble

Ma tha duine agaibhse a' dol a cheannach an clar ur aig na super furry animals, mholainn sin dhuibhse, tha na h-orain air an clar singilte fior mhath. Agus tha dochas ann gum bi iad bhon a leithid cheudna air an album

har di har har

Agus a-nis a chairdean daintean cho uabhasach gun cuir iad troimh-cheile sibh, cho oillteill is grabhail a tha iad. Agus chan eil mi air a bhith deanamh moran, direach eisdeach ri comhlain fasanta, agus tarraing as na Naiseantaich air foram nan ainn-riaghailteach.

Co-dhiu

The State is my perversion
The warp in the thread of my mind
As it rings the new oppression
The screen goes blank in behind
The distraction of sponsored banality
The cop shows will turn you to dust
As fascists sharpen the polity
That will slice you, they do as they must
There is no life in the trees no more
They've been burned as they sold all their sap
And the birds sing pop-songs before
The dogs that pollute as they crap
No way out you think to yourself
As you watch the hedges in fear
But death is better than health
It's just much too frequent, too near
To the heart that you strove to protect
As you grew and abandoned all ties
In favour of a sporting elect
Who bludgeon as normal, all lies
Are not enough to save it
From conscience, your mind and all thought
The snarling faces daubed in shit
Give up as they do what they ought
To protect it, the essence, the flower
The twisted concrete of the shrine
Held the secrets of capital and temporal power
That were always with us in decline

Desperation time is counted
Not in minutes but in cuts
A grim reaping of the hilarity
Of sensuousness and other sluts
A map of poor bewilderment
A sundial for the dead
The scars I bear upon my arms
And the burn-marks on my head
To watching eyes these marks seem strange
What language is this hieroglyph
The tongue of paternal consternation
As he watches my footsteps and the cliff
To fall, to sink, to reach dispersal
And all to pass, to begin again
My doom approaches then recedes
Like a holy relic of my sin
And as my blood reaches my lips
I sing for sweet remembrance
Today as all days is my last
Or at least the last one in this skin
Tomorrow I'll be a casualty
Of circumstance and fathering

Patrons of the deep and fickle
Becalmed in a ship of fools
Time has come to an end
Along with their bloodlines, "ha ha said the ghouls"
As they ate the flesh of their incarcerators
They took it from the top
Maighstirean, ministirean, church and state
The sea soaks up the claret drops
Decapitation for the chairmen
Dismemberment for the cats
Who're fatter than their servants
Sleek, sweaty and disembowelled like rats
The deck is buried under their offal
The boat struggles under the load
A festering feast of revolution
Forms eddies in the road
And few will witness the revenge
Of victims of the liquid cosh
A problem justifiably whitewashed
But rejoiced in, at the end, oh gosh

Sin e bhuainne a nochd air radio nan ainn-riaghailteach, gus a-maireach bhuainn uile, oidhche mhath.

maise-gnuis agus troilichean eile

tum ti tum, seo barrachd dheth na chaidh a dhiultadh.

M'fhaireachdainnean air Schizophrenia

I am a contender, for arsehole of this world
I had the answer then, I held tightly on to truth
But now remembrance fails me, I'm grinding on a tooth
To put me back in time, when calamity unfurled

I held all armies at arms reach, heads of state possessed me
Their aims I couldn't guess at, I only guessed my love
But they found their doom in these hands of doves
I bless them, they depress me

For what they need they lack, a tool to fix desire
To unleash the power flows, to make them fuck up higher
They can't get me, I belong to another realm

Which belongs to me, as the creator
I write the names of the bettered
I drift without a helm

Agus an ath fhear

Mor-eaconomachd

Thsi coldness that you spread
Reminds me of the gift you gave
That should be party to the dead
I beg you not exhume the grave
But you continue viciously
Crushing skulls against car doors
Beating mothers killing whores
It's not pleasant but it's victory
I can't face up to it or you
Without losing all my hope in life
My passiveness is misconstrued
I've perished in unearthly strife
I've dwindled now as once a star
I blazed your blessings thoughtfully
I'm deranged and floating in the haar
Not closing not remotely
Betrayal is the crime you pushed
As my wage in heaven
I'm covered in the tar you brushed
Off on me for begging
And so it was I reached the end
My flailing arms entwined me
I'll reach your end tomorrow still
And put your curse behind me
I'll open wide and shout the words
I'll be gravely your gravedigger
And then unleash the passive hordes
Who watch the sky grow bigger

Bumface

I lie awake and think of Russia
As once they did in Novgorod
Where Satan's troops; the joyful idols
Stood and claimed the life of Gods
What peaceful vision they promoted
All heaven tied to Mother Earth
And the holiness of godless creatures
Ensured no famine, nor even dearth
Struck the plenty in the fields, the orchards
Still plentiful the mirth of man
Watched over by a thousand deities
Man's ancestors of unearthly span
Perun's thunderbolts of twisted terror
Smote the vicious where they lay
And ensured for all his Slavic herders
Plenitude and fertility
Small wonder that the modern cult
Of hope and providence for all
Found fertile ground in Satanic Rus'
So close to Mother Nature's call
What god is there for Socialism
What deity for freedom
The answer shall be found in myth
Against our christian kingdoms

Oh Satan, isn't it time you forgot

The pills that wander through my life
Return me to a pleasant state
Detached from all my previous
Emancipated joys and hates
I falter daily in my tasks
To resurrect the point of view
That love is hearty, whole and wholesome
And not as now, a curse from you
All unconcerned, all wasted flesh
I'm prompted forward into bliss
But now I can't forget my past
I've forgot the future and I've missed
The path that leads to righteousness
And other ways I should have travelled
Instead of lapsing into grief
And crushing my heart's muddy gravel

Bloody R's

The world was better before the Romans
Before the first fascists stalked the land
A tribal Europe of gentle nurture
Preceded them, walked hand in hand
With a well-meaning joy and love of nature
Protected in the sacred groves
We should Welshly mourn Vercingetorix
And how the future was bestowed
On bureaucrats of every nature
Their grey eyes condemning hope of freedom
No inquisition, no French, no English
No slaughter of the teeming millions
By a blitzkreig of marching centuries
The numbered brutes marked out for us
The future in our states, our churches
And dispensed with sanity, with choice
Always it seems that Celts shall fail
Where easily they should have won
We're lost in time of Englishness
And watch the slaughter being re-run

Sin e bhuainne a-nochd air radio nam baomastair, tioraidh

Tha mi ann an staing cho domhainn nach faic mi a' ghrian

Fhuair mi diultadh an-diugh, a chairdean, a bha fior bhronach, uill cha b'e, ach bha e doirbh, uill cha b'ann doirbh a bha e, ach eibhinn, nuair a smaoinicheas mi air. Bha an neach-sgrudaidh ag radh gu robh mo bhardachd ro fhuilteach, agus gun stath shonraichte ann. Feumaidh mi obair air mo characterisation. Ach de am fios a th'aigesan air bardachd? Barrachd na mise, smathaid, ach co-dhiu, seo na daintean, neo grunn dhiubh, a chaidh a dhiultadh.

Joyful Butchery

Slashing, cutting, tearing apart
My hammer reaching for your heart
Cracking, splitting, bursting all
The axe that yearns for your thin skull
My defence shall be that murder's right
To ease the passions of the night
To loose the motions petrified
That stopped when somewhat mortified
It struck me that to gain revenge
Your mortal sins I must avenge
And stab and thrust and then to parry
The guilt that unrestrained wishes carry
And grab and crush and then repent
That all my youthful hours are spent
In killing those I used to need
For pleasure of every troubled sense
As procreation yearns to bleed
To startled cries of innocence
I would have whiled away my time
Wildly wondering that you were mine
Or crashed upon you in a rage
That earned us rapture lasting days
But now my will's become perverse
I seek in murder the fate diverse
That gave to you more boobs than brains
And a liking for hearty, fat refrains
That preach to you material success
Is found when you undress
And not that solidarity
Is in hopeful, friendly parity
To redress: I aim to kill you whole
And not digress to righteous goals

Cha d'rinn caileag sia-bliadhna deug cron cho mor air duine a riamh, uill rinn, ach sgriobh mi sin nuair a bha mi a-mach as mo rian.

To Conversation

Events, events the people cry
As though they're all commodities
As though a rushing burst of blood
Will stem the mindless, thoughtless flood
Of screen and scream and thouroughfare
Where all the petty, worldly cares
Are inflamed and brought to bear as might
Their daydreams plunging into night
"To Dodgems" becomes the tepid wail
Of those caught behind in history's tail
Where they recompense their lifeless state
With bumping, thumping toys of hate
Transfixed by the progress on to doom
Their visions barely pierce the gloom
Of banality and exchange, its attendant curse
That makes the amusement factory worse
What are events but signs of death
That stain the air with acid breath
Corrosive eyes that used to behold
The words "Only the dead things can be sold"
Now under the rule of airgead
Leave nothing outside the program's net
And so, as people stop and watch
The blondest beasts begin to hatch
And begin to swap around the living
As parcels on a crude Thanksgiving
In praise of a being bloody god
Called commerce, all Adidas shod

Mo ghaol bhan

Unblessed, and doomed to failure
I struggled with her clothes
They wouldn't fit in the washing machine
As mine lay round my toes

Undressed, and quite overcome
I worshipped at her side
But she got up off the altar
"Undead, my god!" I cried

To this, I thought, it comes to this
Her small hands stroking me
I purred, stretched, curled on her feet
And miaowed quite liesurely

I wish I was her cat again
The un-living queen of night
I'd fill her bowl with LSD
She'd understand, at last, allright

Ha ha aha aha aha aha ha hahaha ahaha aha aha ha a

Gouezeleg ar laithean-ne

Hallo a chairdean, de tha dol, tha rannan bronach agam dhuibh a-rithist, mu dheidhinn bhais, agus feise, agus a' chuthaich. Ach carson a tha mi a' deanamh seo co-dhiu, chan eil uidh agaibh ann, oh mo chreach, mo chreach sa thainig, boo-hoo. Tha torr a dhith oirbh fhathast.

An aite a 's fhearr leam

Silence unreigned all over the place
With just the easing of the breath
Now, you'd think it was death
Had calmed a warlike race

She turned naked in her sleep
He lay awake by her side
And listened to the welcome glide
Of breath from the glowing deep

Bringing news that all was well
As though that could never be
They'd been so very close to hell

But love spread over with the dawn
He nipped gently at her breast
Then smiled as she began to yawn

Agus a-nis, fear bronach

Sex is a social distemper
A fever that once will be cured
And as the bodies dismember
My mind will be inured
To the curves of passion
While my thoughts decayed
I wondered what was the cause of crashing
Between the wills that flayed
Their corpses between them mutually
For a prize to the one who's more vicious
Their souls negated by the love
That they dreamed of as delicious

Heeheehee

mat e yafe ar chaseal da vloaz all, ma mignonez