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