Deliverance – In Whose Hands?

A video reading  Deliverance – In Whose Hands?


Potions kill with poison

And swords with sharpened points.

Guns slay like executioners

On streets, in clubs and other joints.

Sometimes, too, a hating hand

Will hold to rifle butt

And slew across the innocents,

Ending lives – short cut.

And words may kill,

If used for ill,

Barbed, like arrow tip,

Flailing folks with malice, shooting from the hip.

Weapons, all, within wrong hands,

On tongues and evil minds.

Targets found too easily

And, hatred, bullseye finds.

So many ways to kill a man,

A woman or a child.

So many ways to end the world,

Rampant retribution, running wild.

Citizens who, not all players,

Understand or scratch their heads,

Stripping back and peeling layers

Of purpose from these Neds and Eds.

True innocence with worldly knowledge,

Not found in Unis nor in College,

Knows and sees all that is ill,

If mankind cannot drink from source and so their well to fill.

A sip or two relaxes thirst

But seeks much more to quench,

To understand, to learn, to live

Amid corruption’s stench.

But, come the day, the revolution

When hearts, pure minds and souls

Seek spirit’s aim, solutions

And scores goals after goals

And wins the match, for evil fears,

Greater than any other,

Love that’s all-encompassing,

The world over, brother to brother.

Brothers all and sisters too,

Mankind blessed by soul

Whose search for meaning, purpose,

Source, can make the broken whole.

Deliverance, from earthly chains,

Bondages of rage,

A golden key from others’ hands

Unlocks souls’ flights from cage.

Neds = Non-educated delinquents

Eds = Educated delinquents


A message from the Pleiades

Yoo-Hoo. Is There Anybody There?

So, yer man above, is running this small project aimed at a couple of people around the globe. I really don’t know why he bothers. I mean, it’s not like anybody is going to read any of his stuff. Where does he get off running a global communications project single-handedly and canvassing opinions from every corner of the globe with a view to worldwide enlightenment?

What a fucking brilliant idea. And I use my French selectedly. Pass the word, word by word, mouth by mouth. See the difference. Feel the difference. Accept the difference. A bit of respect please, if you will. It may go a long way to encouraging a more respectful world. That’s if anyone reads, of course. 🙂

Name: scottishmomus


Twitter: Got one. Don’t use it.

Facebook: Got one. Ditto. But it’s in my real name!

LinkedIn: Ditto for Facebook. Why do I bother with them? Whole other post, I think.


 Question 1: Please provide a window into who you are, some background information in a not too overwhelming profile here. I am allowing you as the writer to immediately connect with your audience so take advantage. Remember the point of ordering these questions is to arrange this project so it is easy for comparison and not to constrain you as the writer. Write as long as you need to for each question to get your point across just remember not to lose the reader.

I am a 52 year-old working mum. I have 7 children ranging in age from 24 to 6. I live about 5 miles outside of Glasgow, Scotland. I have been married to the same lovely guy for 26 years. And still fancy him! Thank God, it’s reciprocated. Or, so he tells me often enough. Which is nice. 🙂 

I believe love makes the world go round,  otherwise what’s the point?

I went to college at 17 to study to become a teacher although most everyone I know just thinks I was born one anyway and I probably wasted 3 years of my life. I get kids. I mean, I really get them. And I love that I do. Mind you, once they start growing into adults I get them in a whole other way. Right in the back of the neck mostly. But, that usually only lasts until they’re out of the awkward teens.

Question 2: If you haven’t already done so please provide your country of origin, whether you are male or female, an age would be nice, and where you currently live if that differs from the country of origin. If you are in America this might be a nice time to explain what state you are from. Also try to give us a brief view of your current neighborhood and what it is like in as specific terms as you like. Why is this important? I believe our surroundings and where we come from have a strong impact on our development of opinions. It would also be highly likely that depending on the safety of the country might also determine how willing one is to express their opinions aloud. Does sex also have something to do with this, as well as age? These are all characteristics that can definitely affect a person’s outlook.

I live in the hometown of my birth and was actually born in a ‘room and kitchen’ less than a mile from where I now live.  As it happens, my husband lived in the same street although a number of years before me.

My town was once the biggest village in Scotland and was a thriving mining community surrounded by loads of countryside that my dad explored with us. As he had also been brought up here, he could tell us every nook and cranny we visited and the history behind them. He introduced me and my brothers and sisters to long walks and rambles that embraced nature in a loving fold. We learned from him to protect and care for our environment and all living things.

My mum was a townie when she met my dad and had to adjust to a life where she was deemed an outsider for many years. My mum was an amazing and intelligent woman who instilled in us a love of others and of God. I could and did talk to her for hours on every subject and we would often share a dram, chatting into the wee small hours about all sorts of everything. She was a great friend.

Both of my parents came from large families and their upbringing reflected  how they raised their six kids. My mother lost three sisters to TB when they were young women and was heartbroken at their loss, for herself and for her own mother.

I remember very clearly both of my grandmothers, one was very much the matriarch (my dad’s – whole other post) and the other was a strong, loving woman who defied convention in a number of ways, once by beating up a drunken wife abuser next door to her. When the drunk called the police on my wee granny – all 5 foot of her – she batted her eyelids at them and said, ‘What me? Look at the size of me. How could I?’

As the police knew the score with the guy they just smiled and said, ‘Quite right. You couldn’t possibly have done what he said. He said you caught him unawares as he came up the close stairs and gave him a doing.’

And she did. That’s what my wee granny – my Godmother – was like. Her sense of injustice at her neighbour’s hidden injuries overtook her usual placid self and she meted out the punishment. He, apparently, did not beat up on his wife after that.

These are some of the people who made me who I am.

I am the oldest daughter with two older brothers, two younger sisters and a younger brother. I am very close to one of my sisters but don’t see as much of the rest of my family now, although we still get together for family do’s.



Question 3: Recount the first time you remember having a differing opinion from someone significantly older than you. Do you remember what the topic was about? Did you voice your opinion or hold it to yourself?

I was in my early teens. My dad and my eldest brother were discussing politics. My dad was a strong Labour man, working class and held very strong opinions on what was fair and equitable. I was listening to their chat and disagreed on a point. I don’t remember what the point was but my dad told me to shut up until I knew what I was talking about. I was livid and humiliated. How dare he think I didn’t have an opinion worth listening to! Because I was young? Because I was a girl? I had thoughts. I had feelings. I worked things out. I made more bloody sense than their biased, one-sided observations. But, I held my tongue. My dad was the head of the household and that was that. He was not my mum who valued discussion and differing viewpoints and argued her side while letting you argue your own.

Question 4: What levels of respect were practiced around you when you were a child? Was there bowing involved, handshakes, “yes Sirs and yes Ma’am’s,” or some other equivalent respectfulness in your culture’s tongue? Is an honorific given to someone older than you and do you often respect and practice that? How might the culture you were brought up in have affected the growth of your own opinions?

Are you joking? Did you read any of the above? Respect was the order of the day. Love and respect and a healthy dose of arse-skelping if required! And that wasn’t much, thank God. It stings a bit!

Respect precedes opinion, in my opinion. I might disagree with you but I respect your right to give one. Please extend the same courtesy. Respect first.

Question 5: How traveled are you and to what degree do you keep up with international news? You might also provide an educational background if you wish and if that education was gained from somewhere other than your current location. How available is the news and what goes on in the outside world to you in your country?

Up until the age of 18 I had never set foot out of the UK.  But we had a holiday every year and we went to loads of parts of Scotland, camping and caravanning.

At 18, I got the opportunity to work in Greece with a friend whose brother was a travel agent. So my first long summer holiday from college was spent working on a Greek island. I loved it. I had already fallen in love with Greece through reading and seeing films about the myths and legends of Ancient Greece. I adored and, still do, all that type of fantasy.

We planned to return the following year and booked flights through her brother. At the last minute, she was not allowed to go as she had just failed her college course and was not being allowed back. So she was banned from going. I never let on to my parents until the night before I was due to go. There was no way I was being stopped. So I went by myself and had the most amazing three months working and befriending complete strangers.

On graduating the following year, I saw a job advertised in college for teachers in Athens. I jumped at the chance and spent my first year as a teacher teaching English as a second language to classes of kids ranging in age from about 6 to 18. As I was only twenty myself, it was a bit hairy at times but manageable. I met a couple of other girls from Glasgow there and we shared a flat for over a year. I travelled to Turkey while I was there because my visa had expired and, in my ignorance, believed that I would pick up some work for a couple of weeks and then return to Athens before deciding whether to stay on for another year.

I started to say more here about that experience but that’s a whole other story and unnecessary here.

I decided to come home and travelled five days on a bus to do so. Dorothy had her red shoes. I didn’t.

Apart from a visit to Lourdes and a couple of other jaunts to Greece and once to various parts of Germany, the extent of my travels has been Scotland. All over it. Hitch hiking once and many times in a minibus with my gang. And I love the place. It is simply stunning in parts.

I either devour news and scream at the TV and politicians on it attempting to justify or explain world events or ignore it when it all feels too much.  A real balanced approach, you know?

Question 6: If you could share an opinion on a single international incident or topic that you either feel strongly about or that might not be known to the rest of the world what would it be? You have our attention.

I get so pissed that power corrupts and that people seek power for self-seeking ends. I get pissed that politics and religion are used to perpetuate injustice the world over. I despise adults who hurt children in any way, shape or form. I could probably throttle those who are so stupid that they actually believe their own hype about what matters. Love matters. And I don’t mean sexual love (although, mmmm). As much as eros love is grand, the love I speak of does dare to say its name. It encompasses all who hold it dear. Or not. It forgives and shows mercy. It respects even while it does not understand. That might be more than one, do you think? Or might they all be rolled up into one? You think.

Question 7: What does the right to an opinion mean to you? Is it essential to freedom to have this right? How far would you go to protect that ability? The world is on fire with people of passion, how passionate are you about things you value?

I am pretty much passionate about everything. I think that might be why I am a bit of a ‘lunatic’. I suffer from depression badly, at times. But, I am also extremely optimistic. I’m still trying to figure out whether I am classified in some psychiatrist’s manual but I keep coming up with a blank when I go, ‘Naw, that’s not me’. I think I just feel everybody’s pain and it gets to me and I go on a downer. I feel my own pain and I go on a downer. The rest of the time I’m as happy as a pig in shit with an outlook on life to be envied!

Question 8: Is it ever right for you to be allowed an opinion while someone else is denied that same right on the same topic?

No.  And NO! Even my own kids are allowed an opinion. We discuss things. I may have the final say or not, depending on other factors but they have their say. I know the world is full of places where this not the case and again, see above, for how I feel about other people’s right to respect.

Question 9: The last question, upon completing this template and hopefully contemplating the issue what does this project mean to you? How can Project O potentially enlighten or help the world?

I was in two minds about taking part in this project. You know, busy, busy, busy. And then I read OM’s rant about not everyone having the opportunity to have or express an opinion.

Well, F.U.C.K., if there is one thing that is guaranteed to get me motivated is the idea that I NOT be allowed to do something. I have the freedom to express myself in words, in my chosen faith, to self-determine, to think, to act, to be. Anyone who threatens that has a fight on their hands. I might just beat them up and then say, ‘Who me? Look at me. I’m just a wee Scots lassie with a big mouth’.

But, I’ll defend my right to open it. Even if I do talk shite, at times. 

Many Ways

Speak love;                          hold fast my fascination,

Into my mind;                    ease such sweet frustration,

Tell me;                                 in words of dedication,

Show me;                            end my sublimation.

Please me;                           in ways of deviation,

Take me;                              release each rapt sensation,

Mould me;                           with tender observation.

Sing to me;                          another soul rendition,

Own me;                              I hear your plea’s petition.

Wonder not;                       no obvious solution,

Forgive me;                         I need your absolution.

Forget me.                          A hopeless persecution.

Hopefully, it should make sense reading right across or down either column. Maybe even bottom to top? Just noticed.

Whose Job Is It?  set me thinking and my response to her would be too long as a comment.

Is the Internet hurting our kids with expectations of instant gratification? Do parents enable irresponsibility in their children?

(Linda inserted a disclaimer, as do I. There probably is no exact right way but there still has to be an attempt at providing one.)


Perhaps there is an element of this but I can only speak from my own experiences with my own children.

They all have had access to the internet since I was able to make it available to them around 15 or so years ago. That was about the time we had our first internet capable computer, modem built in. Prior to that, the hand-me-down computer that we had was used by me and all of them for word processing, spreadsheets for work and some games that were onboard.

It’s difficult to imagine that such a relatively short time has passed and we have come so far in what computers are capable of and the multitude of social networking sites available for use. Not to mention the range of games and the graphics capability.

Each of my seven children, from the eldest at 24 to the youngest at 6, is well-versed in how to use the many programmes available. Most of that is self-taught. They have no fear of challenging capabilities, whereas my initial attempts were fear-filled at what I might erase or damage in my feeble attempts to become comfortable with technology.

They use the computer for school, work and social activities.

But they also read, play guitar, listen to music, watch movies, go outside to play, visit friends, play chess, have friends round, go to the cinema and a host of other activities that are not computer or internet dependent.

As far as depending on parents for financial support this is a matter that I have given a lot of thought to and have implemented various strategies with different degrees of success.

The general rule in our house is that the children are given pocket money up to the age when they can get a part-time/Saturday job. The pocket money has been a fixed amount or a flexible one depending on our circumstances. It is not dependent on doing chores but they are all expected to do some as well as keep their own rooms in order.

As soon as the children are of age to find part-time work (which is not always easily come by) they are then expected to buy their own clothes, provide for their own entertainment and any other extras. We still purchase their school clothes and necessities. They are expected to contribute £10 (15US$ 16C$)  a week from a part-time job to get them used to the idea that contributing to their upkeep is essential.

After they have finished full-time education and gone on to work in full-time employment, they contribute around £200 ( 310 US$ 326C$) per month for their upkeep. This is much less than they would be paying if they were in a flat or managing for themselves.

My eldest got her first part-time job at 16 and worked there until she started university. She then did auxiliary nursing in addition to her studies as a nurse and this helped fund her way through university. She still contributed at home. She is now in a flat with her fiancé and the two of them work and manage their home and know how to finance themselves, pay bills, save for holidays and so on.

My eldest son also had his first part-time job at 16 working for McDonalds. He moved from there to a warehouse job and kept that on while at university. He packed in uni as he hated the course and got a job working in a bank where he has done very well. After two years of working there he has decided to return to college and started just last week. He has kept on the bank work part-time and he still contributes.

My daughter at 20 started working in Cineworld about 3 or 4 years ago, part-time. When she finished school she did not want to go immediately to university so she went full-time for two years at Cineworld. She started the same college as her brother last week. She is in a flat with friends and pays her way there as she did when she was at home.

My 18 year old son has had one part-time job that only lasted a few months. He hated it and gave it up. I was not amused. He did a year’s course at college but now wants to get a job. He has an open evening visit at my other son’s work tonight.

My 15 year old has already asked me to help draft her skills CV in readiness for when she turns 16 to get part-time work while still at school for the next two years.

Until then, she and my younger children will be provided with everything they need. NEED not want. If they want something that I see as a possible nine days wonder or something very expensive then they are told to save up for the cost of half of it. If they manage to do this (from pocket money, birthday money, etc.) then I know they are serious about the desire and I pay for the other half of the item. In this way, over the years, various children have ‘received’ a computer/laptop/playstation/camera etc. It has happened, fairly often, that they stopped saving for the item and said they weren’t bothered any more. So, they don’t get it. If they had really wanted it, they would have saved for it.

With seven children, we simply could not afford to give into every wish and desire. We provide for everything they need but they have been and will continue to be taught to be responsible about all sorts of life lessons in order that they can, one day, join the world of independence with confidence and a sense of responsibility, as well as that all-important work ethic.

A long post, I know. What’s new from me, eh?

But, it is the responsibility of parents to ensure that their children are ready for the grown-up world. Not the schools’ responsibility. Not ‘society’s’ responsibility. Ours. And, if children are not expected to be responsible they’re not going to be. Would you?

It would be lovely, for a while, to be handed everything on a plate. But, those things that I have achieved greatest satisfaction from are those things I’ve felt I’ve deserved because I’ve worked for them. It is how I was taught. It is how I teach my own.


Come hither eyes despise

And gloat at easy pickings, prey.

Flaunting promise, egotist

Cannot delay the day

He owns her body and her mind

Travels every quarter,

Possesses all to see and touch,                                                          

After all, he bought her

With wine and dine and flattery

And glinting, glazing gaze,

Some heat, a feat of promises.

Merely love for days.

But eyes know true all she can do,

Patience is her game,

Retribution knows its route.

A poisoned purpose, aim.

A sting or two, unwelcome wound,

Some malice and a cheer

Vengeance potion swiftly served

In glass of frothy beer.

Behind the bar, she tends to fate,

Conquests there abound,

Not all that catch her eye must fear

The potent ordered round.

Just one or two, well maybe few,

Whose undeserving hearts

Relinquished mercy from her hands

Each time their love departs.

She smiles and flirts and shows some favour

To their willing form.

Claiming wives don’t understand

And they are left lovelorn.

Lies, damned lies, she’s found to cost,

Each trivial betrayal,

Is met with lust then vengeance

In glass upon the table.

Drink up, boys, there’s plenty more,

I’m willing and I’m free

For titillation, dining out and

Partying, for fee.

But morning’s dawn will sing new song,

And each new night will bring

Another manly whore around

To laugh and drink and sing;

Flexing muscles, flashing grins,

Strutting their fine glutes

And using lies and lucre

For all their cheap pursuits.

Now faithful wives have staunch ally

And help along the way,

A phone call and a photograph

Help to make their day.

Some castor oil and laxative

Well mixed in each new batch.

Beware, bad boys, the barmaid’s there

And, with aid, she’ll make her catch.

Well Hard.

Sexed-up and keen,

She’s moody and mean

And heavy on the black liner.

Sashays in time

To internal rhyme,

Struts, as though nothing looks finer.


Out with the boys,

She makes lots of noise,

Sometimes, squeals with delight.

Holds down her liquor

Makes love, often quicker,

And fills all the machos with fright.


She’s tougher than them,

Can tackle the pain

And give just as good as she gets.

Undressed with finesse,

Artfully messed,

And wins almost all of her bets.


She’ll kick you to touch

If you as so much,

Declare undying devotion.

She’s been there before,

Not looking for more,

Man’s idea of love, a strange notion.


She straddles machine,

Bends forward to lean

And extract more power from throttle.

Look out for when

She stares at you men.

This girl has a truckload of bottle.


Stay out of her path,

She cackles for laugh

And flashes her eyes to kill.

She’s toughened up some,

‘Cos treated like scum

Since she was a cute little girl.


She’s hard through and through,

So whatever you do,

Don’t go where the sign says, ‘ don’t enter’.

Yes, she’s hard, doesn’t cry,

Though some men still try

But only she knows she  has a soft centre.



Video reading

Perchance To Dream

Unbroken hours,

Scented flowers,

Opiate to dreams.


Drifters meeting,

Welcome greeting,

Sparkling iris gleams.


A strange caress

On silken flesh

Heated pools of gold.


Amber coated honey

Sweet, in creamy

Hidden folds.


Dusty shower,

Eyelids lower,

Sparkles in the deep.


Wandered mind,

Some dreams to find

In hallowed, blessed sleep.



‘Cos no one wants to dream about vampires. I don’t think.

Endless Night

‘Sleep,’ he strokes,

And satin cloak


Softly on my skin.

‘Deep,’ he moans,

‘Deep sleep,’ intones.

Drifting out and in,

Of slumber

Where, no nightmares


But teeth

Nip hard

And pierce

And tell

Of wanton kiss

Revoking life,


By sharpened knife of

Incisors’ bitten bond.

‘Awake, my love,’

And shake the dream

From eyes

Of scarlet hue.

‘Come, my self,

Come fly with me,

Where others

Are awaiting you.’

Arise and weep,

An endless sleep,

Haunting still

The night.

Twin piercings

Shy from

Others’ eye,

Shunning morning’s light.

A twilight world

Of bloodied


Pallid hands,

A virginal clasp,

Flash of

Red tipped white.

Oliana, I hope you sleep tonight.

Simon, other reasons for red eyes.