(S)praying For The Country

Dear God,

Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?
I haven’t had so much excitement since I was a but a child and that big, burly farmer bellowed at me to, ‘Get the fuck out of my wheat field, ya wee bastard!’
Peed my pants that day, I can tell you. Gave a whole new meaning to crop spraying.

And that fellow was so out of order. It was, after all, a devil-may-care moment, shared, I’m sure, by all normal children from time to time.
Honestly, who hasn’t, in the flush of exuberant youth, cast off the yoke of obedience, thrown caution to the wind and trespassed on someone else’s property? I like to think of it as my ‘Buckfast in the park’ moment. Pissed, at least, in one sense of the word. Har, de, har, har!
Such japes.

I should, of course, have left those days behind for good and followed daddy’s advice. ‘Be a good girl.’
Such wise words.
He was quite the sage, you know. Well, you would know.
I learned so much from him.
Although he did have the unfortunate habit of speaking in cliches.
Ah, but he was so strong and stable.
And I did take his advice.
I was as good as good can be.
But, Jesus wept, (my bad), it was so boring.

People used to look at me like I was some sort of robot. Always doing as I was supposed to do. ‘Tess the Tame’, I once overheard someone whisper. Well that, and ‘Little Miss Pee-Your-Pants’.
Can’t trust anyone to keep a secret, I’ve found to my cost.

I suppose I just had to rebel at some point.
I’ve practised quietly for years.
Doing little things here and there, you know.
Never accept a court judgement.
Make stubbornness an art form.
Under no circumstances, give in. Except sometimes. Stamp a metaphorical foot in the recesses of your mind.
Curse them all. ‘Ya cunts, I’ll have you, one day!’
So liberating. In a mental, internalised, repressed sort of way.

And another wheat field day arrived.

How I longed to relive that glorious, carefree day. Without the final flood.

I felt sure, this time, that I would get away with it. I was sure I had the farmers and everyone else on side. I had practised speaking naturally till I had it almost off pat.

I had traipsed all over the country, talking to a few people in barns and the like. What is it with me with farms and isolation? Might need to work on that too.
I had even, as one does, practised, to the mirror, keeping my face composed at all times, so that no one, no, not even daddy, would know what I was thinking. All those, ‘fuck off ya trumpet’ thoughts were so well contained, apart from the odd twitch of my lips when I almost came right out and said it.
‘It’s my party now! I’m in charge! I’m head girl! Getyersel’ tae yer ain wheatfield!’
I had it all carefully organised.

And then I peed my pants again.

Thank god for Tena Lady.
I have shares in them, you know.
Always be prepared.

And now that corn-coloured, flop-haired saboteur is on his bike again, working up what passes for a sweat in the crack of his arse.
Waiting in the wings. Ready to steal my thunder. Undermining me at every turn. I don’t need his help for that. I can do things by myself. I have words. And stuff.

I’ve always been a loner, though.

Didn’t do naughty till that day, back then.
The shame of it haunts me still.

I’m not saying I’m going to flip. That would be so middle-class. And daddy wouldn’t have approved.

But, I swear to god, if I hear one mention of ‘pishing it’, I’ll sell my shares in Tena Lady and spray this country from Land’s End to John O’ Groats.

And, with the wind in the right direction, so, help me, Ireland will taste my piss.

I will be remembered as the biggest piss artist of all time.

Got to be remembered for something, after all.

Amen.

(source)

Pour With Pride

washes clean

refills

by drops

each puddle

overflows with effort

teems and soars

tracks its route

in streets

on pavements

pathways

arrives

at every tap

at every door

fills from mountains

hails from every cloudburst

spirit of survival

reigns supreme

power of the shower

pitter patters

splashing through

the nightmare

to the dream

washes clean

refills

the blood that’s thirsty

refreshes

where it reaches

countrywide

dance and sing

with thunder

raise your voices

in the storm

that’s brewing

blowing

pour with pride

Like It’s Easy

I used to vote for Labour but I’m Tory now

For Tess is on my side so all is swell

Mother Earth incarnate with some great one-liners

She’ll fight my side and give the Euro hell

Used to be a socialist with common aim

But now I’ve seen the error of my ways

A right-wing party full of millionaires

I know they’ll care for me through all my days

Used to fight for workers and the rights of men

But now I trust in what the Tories spout

Fuck all the pensioners, the sick and the destitute

Fling all the foreigners out

Used to have a conscience but that’s over now

I’ve shifted sides to get a better deal

Man mind thyself is an awesome creed

Not rational, who cares, it’s what I feel

Won’t have need for hospital, I’m healthy, see

I’m never getting old so that’s okay

No family to care for and even if I did

I’d do it all myself for that’s my way

Theresa speaks my language now in trite soundbites

She’s closer to the cause I cannot name

Hallelujah, peace on earth, I’m Tory now

May god forgive my choice, I have no shame

 

He doesn’t. And neither do I.

 

If you’ve ever had a conscience or cared enough

Tell me why you now believe the right

Have they ever fought for you or your family

Have they ever even had you in their sight

Don’t tell me, like it’s easy

If you’ve ever thought of anyone but you

Vote for that party and take the pain

Society depends on what you do

Devil’s In The Detail

When I said I’d have a party

I sure meant it

Ain’t no one throws a party like I do

Devil’s in the detail

Entertainment

Mind-altered states

My guests know what to do

No need to lift a finger

Mere suggestions

Hordes they come

To thrash the night away

Shoehorn in as many

Pun intended

Then watch as all invited

Play or pray

Ain’t nothing like my parties

They are legend

Men they come and go

But all the same

Good and evil vying

In an orgy

Pointing fingers

Doling out the blame

Aspersions cast

It gives me so much pleasure

My nature, see

What can a devil do

But party on

And plan a new dominion

Premises worldwide

More than a few

Not my fault

I’m only party planner

Devil’s in the detail

As I said

Up to you lot

Invitation only

I’m just the maggot

Worming in your head

Justifying

Parties that deliver

Worst excesses

Esteemed, by me

The best

Received your invitation?

Hocus pocus

Cast my spell

Now you can do the rest

Ain’t no party

Like a devil’s

When delivered

What I do

It’s only in my name

See you on the 8th

I hope you’ll be there

Kiss it once

Then you must take all blame