Blogairdeachd a' bhaile bheag

Hola, a chairdean, chan eil mi air a bhith ri moran sna laithean a dh'fhalbh, direach a' cuideachadh caraid mo mhathair rudan a ghluasad san taigh ur aice. Comhla ri sin, tha mi air a bhith a' coimhead as deidh na cloinne aice nuair a tha iad tinn. Tha Amber mu seachd, agus tha i gu math laghach agus eibhinn, ach tha Rosa buileach eadar-dhealaichte, tha i gearaineach agus bronach a' coimhead. Agus chan eil i ach aon-bliadhna deug cuideachd, co-dhiu, tha mi fhathast a' feitheamh air freagairt bho mo bhana-charaid Sarah, chan eil fhios am de thachair rithe, ach tha mi'n dochas gu bheil i gu math. Chan eil an uidhear de luchd na fearas-riaghlaidh a' basachadh sa bha mi'n dochas, ach chi sinn de thachras san am ri teachd.

Co-dhiu, seo bardachd

So much longing brings you closer to God
The ecstacy is never misplaced
The pleasure in her legs and arms
Restore you to a state of grace

Where the pain that stretched you out
Responds by dulling with her smile
All messiahs know the car
That brings all heaven back a while

I love her truly, more was said
When for love of grief
I gave my heart and mind for dead
And collapsed alone, a thief

agus a-nise

The pain of an Oilthigh
Is reflected on its face
The archways, the concrete
That lead you on, distress, displace
Your mind in painful ways of thought
You can't falter on the deathly path
Your mind unhinges with the weight
Of all past misery, no hearth
Of hospitality or welcome here
But assessment plain and simple
So much so you lose yourself
The broken bits begin to tinkle
As they fall out from your head
Your mind replaced by glass
Reflecting all the studious hate
That collected here, unbid, so crass
Unnatural the gifts they give you
The fatal flaw you find inside
There is no heart within this beast
There's only girders, cells and slides
Where you struggle on just like a peasant
When faced with the monstrosity
There is no point in striving forward
You're held back in the grip of history
And all the voices afore and since
Who claimed " God bless my studies"
It is in all kinds akin to mince
This mess with fate and palls and buddies