by Marc Gunn, April 25, 2005

Like many, I feel like it is very rare to meet someone who understands the gibberish we speak. We cling to the desire to be unique and mysterious and different. Perhaps none of us are Really all that different, but this poem attempts to shed light on my own challenges in finding someone who speaks my language.

To the Untuned Ear,

I speak a strange language.

It's like something out of "Blade Runner"

      or Babylon.

It's a mixelplit of languages
    dialects and slang.

Part English and Italian, but also,
 Part Celt and Texan,
  Part Venetian and Elvish,
   Part Cat and Prince Edwardian,
    Part Languid and part Love.

It's not a language any Normal person speaks.
   Even fewer comprehend.

To the Untuned Ear,

It can sound like madness,
 The swatherings and flailings of a deranged mind.

 But

     The rare blessed few
     Can slice away the misgivings
     And misunderstandings.

     The rare blessed few
     Can splinter the sounderings
     And the flounderings.

     The rare blessed few
     Can close the dictionary
     And still translate the graffiti

That floats lovingly around and
 above my
 beating heart.

Yes, it is a strange language.

I won't folly to say
You will ever or never disect it.

But I will speak
 as I was born to speak
  and pray my words will not
   fall on deaf ears.

by Marc Gunn, May 6, 2004

On April 16, 1746, the rightful heir to throne of England, The Bonnie Prince Charles Edward Stewart's army was defeated at Culloden Moor by the Duke of Cumberland. This single battle wiped out the traditional clan system that had been a part of the Highland culture for centuries. It also marked the beginning of one of the most dreadful periods of ethnic cleansing in Scotland that became known as The Highland Clearances.

The Duke of Cumberland gave no quarter to the Highlanders at Culloden. Every last one was executed. Then Cumberland began sweeping the country and executing Highlanders. Those who were not executed fled to Ireland and America. The bagpipes and wearing the tartan were banned as part of 'Proscription Act' (also known as the 'Black Act') of 1746.

The Proscription Act was repealed in 1782 thanks in part to books in the people like Sir Walter Scott who romanticized the Highland tradition. Many of the Lowlanders began tracing their Highland ancestry.

Then on May 6, 1805, a small group of Scots in Glasow rose up against the English oppression and declared May 6th as No Troosers Day. They cast off their pants, donned their kilts, and rewrote an old Scottish drinking song to celebrate this day.

Like many such rebellions, it was quickly defeated. All remnants of this tragic No Troosers Day Clearance were obliterated from history. Only a single broadsheet, located in the home of Angus MacDonald of Glasgow, remains that testifies to the horrible atrocities endured and the fact that Scotland was in actuality the originator of the No Pants Day celebration.

Oh my name is Jock Stuart, I´m a trooser-less man
And my roving young fellows move freely

--chorus--
So be easy and free in nae boxers or briefs
I´m a man who wears a kilt every day.

I´m Highlander made and a piper to trade
And the tartan is me flag that I wear.

I go out with my gun and my dog for to hunt
Try to make me wear troosers, and you'll pay.

I´ve got acres of land, I´ve got ships to command
So burn your pants on No Troosers Day

So come fill up my glass with whiskey or rum
Then send o'er your lass and you'll see.

--last chorus--
It's better easy and free in nae boxers or briefs
I´m a man who wears a kilt every day.

by Marc Gunn, April 18, 2005

I remember watching The Mission back in high school. It was one of the most-powerful movies to me as Jeremy Irons' character explores sacrificial, Godly love. I would hope no one would have to endure such challenges, yet many do with less bloodshed. For the followers of Christ, Love is a powerful term that is the way of God first and foremost. This poem reflects on the concept of love despite our intellectual and religious differences.

I believe in love.
The love that lasts.
It's much biggger than desires
Of an empty flask.

It burrows itself deep with the soul
It is the goal,
A reflection of the divine,
Of Jesus in the mind,
Of distant romance
And a courageous stance
For what matters most
To the humanely host.

I believe in love before books,
Or money or knowledge.
But not blinded
By what I learned in college.
A million heartbeats
And a poignant zing
The kind that makes an angel
Grab a guitar and sing.

I believe in love,
Though differences exist.
Though our Gods may differ,
Our faiths persist.
A God of love
Does not grudge against race.
My God is love
For all the human race.

I believe in love.
And God believes in me.
A love this strong
Is the reason I am me.

by Pam Owens, August 12, 2004

Another submission by Mother Pockets for my Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers CD. This song is set to the tune of "Gypsy Rover" and tells the story of how kittens are born.

A yowling kitty came over my fence
In from the alley so shady
He whimpered and he howled til I threw a rock,
But he won the heart of my Lady---

--chorus--
Tom cats roam in the dark of night
To that I have no objection
But if you come courting at my house,
I wish you'd use some protection!

The tom cat came to my back porch door
Sat on the steps so gaily
He called and he sniffed and he was quite bold
For he knew inside was my Lady!

My pretty Lady went to the back door
Scratched at the screen so plainly
They hissed and they spit but it was quite clear
That he'd won the heart of my Lady!

At last my Lady could take no more
She threw herself through the screen door
The two ran off and I feared the worst
For she had no sense of demeanor!

The next day Lady came skulking home
She looked all ragged and bitten.
But as I feared, after two more months,
She blessed me with 5 little kittens.

And now you've heard of my plight so wrong,
For tips I'll not be hittin'
But if there's one here who liked my song,
Won't you help me by taking a kitten?

by Cat Barson, December 2, 2004

Cat is fun songwriter out of Atlanta, Georgia who had to submit a nice English parody of "Scarborough Faire" for my cat lovers CD.

Why is my house is full of Cat Hair?
Meow mix, litter, catnip, and fur
Cat hair is now my favorite thing to wear
Since my cat wants me to only love her.

If I tell her I'm going away
Meow mix, litter, catnip, and fur
She'll tear up the house within a day
Since my cat wants me to only love her.

And when I let her outside for to stray
Meow mix, litter, catnip, and fur
She brings back squirrels, mice, and blue jays.
Since my cat wants me to only love her.

Then when I take her to the vet
Meow mix, litter, catnip, and fur
My health insurance rates can pay the national debt
Yet through this all, I only love her.

So now that my house is full of cat hair
Meow mix, litter, catnip, and fur
I can kiss farewell to my leather chair
Since my cat wants me to only love her.