Laura Levine
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Scottish Poetry Corner
posted: January 17, 2007
A friend of mine sent me these poems, written by a Scottish poet named Francis Gallagher, from his self-published collection of poetry.

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THE BARRENNESS OF HOME

Scotland is a miserable sodden third-rate
sexually repressed backward shithole of
a country where everyone has to pretend to
appreciate
every minute of their sterile defeated life

the burden of lying chills the soul oh for
just once to tell the truth and say I hate this
phony country & the people with their shabby
spoor
of tribal myths about their own ineffable
greatness

Scots adore themselves but it¹s hard
to see why they so love themselves a bankrupt
politics predictable mediocre culture a failed sad
people pouring their soul into alcohol football
celebrations of their sentimental heart

my country is me I am my people and my loyalty
is to my instinctive intelligence that tells me
all this Scottish stuff is pure shit

CHIPS

Scotland is
the petrified vomit
of a fish supper

HOMAGE TO SCOTLAND

I¹d like to drop an atom bomb
on the fucking Highlands
that would stop their whining
being Scottish is like having sex
with a dead camel or
the editor of a poetry magazine

p.s. his  book is entitled "Fuck Scotland."
4 comments
Zina Saunders January 17, 2007
Ohmigod! I just popped in to Drawger to see what's up, and I find the best damn poetry I've ever read! I'm so glad you joined Drawger!
David Flaherty January 17, 2007
Does this explain the suicide story you posted? Was that guy Scottish?
Laura Levine January 17, 2007
You know, that did occur to me....I think he was British and she was Scottish, but they lived in Scotland, on some remote island. Purely a coincidence that both of my posts involved things of a dismal Scottish nature. p.s. thanks, Z!
Robert Saunders January 17, 2007
Wow, Laura...hard to ignore that language. Kinda grips you around the neck and throttles you. God forbid he should write anything about the Haggis. My mother loved all things Scottish, but she was an expatriate, thus able to return home. This fellow seems like he doesn't have that luxury, or any.
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