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Vicky Donald May 15
In the hills where the thistle’s sway,
The spirit of Scotland forever will play,
With the Saltire flying high and proud,
Beneath its embrace, we gather a crowd.

Tartan patterns weave tales of old,
Of battles fought and warriors bold,
With William Wallace, a name that inspires,
Kindling the heart of freedom’s fires.

The winds whisper stories of blood and pride,
Of those who stood tall and never would hide,
In the shadows of heather, with courage they bled,
For a land of their own, where dreams could be fed.

In valleys and glens, the echoes still call,
To rise up for justice, for one and for all,
With hearts intertwined, let our voice proclaim,
For Scotland, our home, we will honor her name.

So let the Saltire wave in the sky,
And the spirit of freedom forever soar high,
As we tread on this land, with courage anew,
To honor our past and embrace the true blue.
Vicky Donald May 9
In the streets where laughter once danced,

Now shadows linger, dreams entranced.

The echoes of youth, in chaos, collide,

In search of solace, in search of pride.

Broken glass glimmers like hopes unkept,

Each flash of violence, a promise that wept.

With every heart lost, with every soul torn,

A future lies fractured, a nation forlorn.

Where are the shields the watchful eyes?

In alleyways dark, innocence cries.

When did our playgrounds turn into battlegrounds?

When did our joy become lost, never found?

Leaders AWAKE! Hear our urgent call -  

These tender lives matter, let none of them fall,

With empathy rising, let kindness entwine,

In choosing our actions, let love be the sign.

We stand at the brink, together we rise,

With whispers of hope, ‘neath Scotland's vast skies.

For our children, our future, in unity, strive,

In nurturing peace, we’ll keep hope alive.

So, let's craft a change, where together we stand,

Forging a place where we cradle each hand.

In a tapestry woven with courage and grace,

We’ll mend what's been broken and reclaim our space.
Håkon May 7
government repressing us
oppressing us
resenting our resistance
never caring it's for the better
they just want
power to get paid to get power
be worshiped as an idol
but despised by those who disagree
and if you don’t agree
better run and hide
or make armor out of soda tabs
because you can
organize a militia
just not if it's against their ideals
messed up this world with their ideas
If you don’t agree
better run and hide
carry that shield to school
the bad men with the guns
will come find you
don’t lose your life today, honey
as she sends you off to school
remember to hide under the desks
and shut the lights off
but never bring light to
the issues at the root
of this insanity
I’m in the streets
and I’m screaming profanity
because if I say it nicely
it’s as bad as staying silent.
I’m a soda-tab soldier
fighting for my rights
the rights to my body
the rights to my life
the rights to my planet
on this planet you’re destroying.
Once we were the king of the world
The envy of every nation
Now we are the master of incompetence
The brunt of every joke

We have King Chaos
To thank for this
Roll up roll up
put down your pennies
see the man who thinks he is Napoleon,
watch the lunatic dance on the White House lawn
laugh at his crazy utterings,
sitting on his throne with a plunger for a mace
and a toilet paper crown
isn’t it time we took him down, and removed him from display
gave him his meds and tucked him away in some secure place,
a safe and comfy padded space
for the good of everyone get him off show
the King of Bedlam has to go
Manx Pragna Apr 24
"How?" I am asked.

Tax. Incremental siphoning.
"Service changes"

"Greedy!" I am accused.

Relax. Manufactured crash.
"Bad economy."

"Incompetent!" It is exclaimed I am.

Facts. Distort reality.
"Fake or foreign elements."

"Fascist!" It is said of me.

Craps. Gambled living.
"Sweating like a ***** in church."

"Pig!" I am called.

Animals. **** philosophy.
"Your life should be in service."

"Dictator!" It is written of me.

Preach. Misinterpret history.
"And God rested on the seventh day."

"Monster!" It is all that's left of me.

Kingly. Total war.
"On the first day, God said,"
Manx Pragna Apr 20
So far as I see things today,
You cannot have a policy
Centered on ambiguity
And expect people
To take you at your word!
Even take you as being serious!

Seriously, you guys! Seriously!
There's a monster on the way!
To borrow from an absurdist, comedic series.

Yet, the point was lost anyways!
But, of course, that was about climate change...
Or maybe it was about listening to experts...
Or maybe it was about acting rather than reacting...
Or maybe...
Manx Pragna Apr 20
Oh right. I forgot.
There's actually ******* out there
Who are serious
About their homophobia.
About hate of
Consenual relations
Between any grown individuals
Which doesn't conform
To their perspective of love.
Righteous love.
Fanatic heterosexuals.
Ay, I can't knock women.
Obviously,
There's so much more
To loving a partner.
So much more
To a loving partner.
The life you build together,
What you do with it.
But let's hone in
On dictating individuality
And harming individual rights.

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called the constitution.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called amendments.

Silly me,
I guess I was on
A personal "freak."
Silly me,
I guess I waged
A personal "streak."

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called proper interpretation.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called existing judgements.

Ah, ****!
I guess I'm against
State & church seperation.
Ah, shucks!
I guess I'm for
Totalitarian fascism.
But, but, you can't have state & church in fascist societies!
But, but, you can't have dissenting opinions in totalitarian systems!
One might call the leading sentiments today feudal in nature and/or completely autocratic.
Nebylla Apr 18
Mama told me we're just playing hide and seek
with men pretending they're police. I love to play
hide and seek. Don't you too?

We are hiding in my neighbour's closet and
I'm giggling. My mama holds her hand over
both our mouths. I and my

mama sit together quietly but I
am hearing grown-ups yell outside. I ask my
Mama why? No reply.

Then I heard a man and mama's face was ice.
He sounded very angry and he asked me where
we are hid. Then I jumped,

yelled at him: peekaboo!

Now it's my story – and others – you read on the news,
hidden by the oversaturated, gold photo
of the front-man; my miserable life made by him
Written April 2025,
just a first draft, will probably fix it one day.
Based loosely on a story I heard from a friend in the US
They breathe in steel,
lungs filled with smoke
from the hollow of forgotten cities,
where rust is the only voice they know.

Hands scrape skin,
too cold to touch
fingerprints burned to wire,
in a song no one remembers.

The streets bleed
in rhythms that never leave
boots press the pulse flat,
repeating orders not their own.

A child’s cry,
a fracture in the dark,
but they hear only
the grinding of their feet,
the hum of metal on metal
and nothing more.
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