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The Scum Gentry Alternative Arts and Media
The Scum Gentry New Poetry Magazine, dark poems and poetry online.

Galloglaich - poem by Daniel Wade

Wealth of my wayfaring and mud-smeared,
The halberd slashes off necks at the root
For mounting over hearths; blood rinses my beard


Of the day’s trudge. Breathing hard, I slog about
This field, corpse-carpeted, air smudged in silence,
Lifting keepsakes from pockets, flames put out


Of my sword’s iron lightning, brandished headlong
And notched. The sun sinks to its nightly grave
As crows swoop down on haggard wing


To munch eye, gnaw jowl; heaven’s amber glows
A still-warm breastplate, as bodies burn on-site.
Why do I no longer flinch from decomposition’s fizz


On each dead, staring face? Indifferent to frostbite
I’ve had the run of ditch, glen, valley, borough;
No enemy may slip from my smell or sight,


Lying in ambush at Antrim, charging Knockdoe
Hillocks, limbs sweat-sopped. Their anthems whirl
In my ear, their pyres conjure up ashen shadow.


I won’t be swayed by priestly pleas for my soul,
Nor fall at the feet of some perfumed pontiff
To beg clemency, yank at God’s apron-string. I’ll


Sleep through a drab sermon, that dives like a dove
To catch in the bishop’s craw, to persuade
Me to defect from my warring self.


Because, from what do I need salving? The road
Where the death blow misses me by inches?
The yesterdays, the tomorrows? Yoked neither to God


Nor home soil but a chieftain’s bidding, I am
Scriptured in this life of palisade and charge,
Ground-holding and glassy rock to dam


Fords in hurdle. As for the cavalry, they call
My name as if I were commonage to rack or rent,
Or one of their hunting bitches called to heel


While I cut and run across their continent;
Repeated axe-bashings splinter apart
Meadows of frozen water and the dent


In my skull taps bone like a glass clinked
To health. Price my loyalty. I flee from no
War-heat; better always to die in the face


Of a javelin’s lunging hiss, or retreat through
Underbush where armoured horse can’t follow,
Than kneel before a blood-blind banner.


Hoist no monument for me. Let my grave vanish
Under the steepened sky. Hold my name from ever


Passing your lips. Let my bones sink back to ash.



*meaning ‘foreign warrior’, anglised as ‘galloglass’.


Albrecht Durer's drawing of a gallowglass and kerne, circa 1521.

Albrecht Durer’s drawing of a gallowglass and kerne, circa 1521.



Daniel Wade is a poet and playwright from Dublin. In January 2017, his play The Collector opened the 20th anniversary season of the New Theatre, Dublin. His spoken word album Embers and Earth, available for download on iTunes and Spotify, launched the previous October at the National Concert Hall. A prolific performer, Daniel has featured in festivals including Electric Picnic, Body and Soul, Culture Night and the West Belfast Festival. Daniel was the Hennessy New Irish Writing winner for April 2015 in The Irish Times, and his poetry has appeared in over two dozen publications since 2012.

Website http://danielwadeauthor.com/
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/dan_wade_91/
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?i...
Spotify https://open.spotify.com/album/1c9AbP...
Youtube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCk2n...
Apple Music https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/emb...



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Half-Dressed - poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Half-dressed, walking in traffic
and talking to herself. She danced
and sang as the authorities arrived.
She was close to being roadkill.


Sitting half-naked in the squad car
she gestures with her hands and
fingers as if shooting a small gun.
She screams out with pleasure.


“Bang, bang, I shoot you.”
She was a little drunk.
Smiling to herself, she
exposed one breast.


She kissed the squad car window.
She laughed out loud to herself.
She was a little high.
She was in a lot of trouble.


She had only one shoe on her feet.
Her left barefoot was bruised.
She called the authorities pigs.
Her eyes filled with tears.


Her half-naked body was covered
with a blanket. She was trembling
in the back of the squad car.
She asked, “Where are we going?”


She said she would not listen to
what they had to say. She formed
a kiss with her lips and then she
started to laugh. “Bang, bang”


Half-dressed, she could not recall
how she got so indiscreet.
So out of reality, she was taken
to the psych ward and held there.



Bio:


Luis was born in Cuernavaca, Mexico, He lives in Southern California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles CA. His first book of poetry, Raw Materials, was published by Pygmy Forest Press. His other poetry books and chapbooks have been published by Alternating Current Press, Deadbeat Press, Kendra Steiner Editions, New Polish Beat, Poet's Democracy, and Ten Pages Press (e-poetry book).


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The Goddess of Pill and Plug - poem by Harley Claes

She wore metal draped upon her visage with a bullet born personality and a pocket full of religion. We worshipped her sin and posted dutifully as saints. As we were given by god our daily pay, for our loyalty. We paraded ourselves on the sexual horizon, and got so high on the divine we reeked eternally of celestial vomit. In the castle of god we ate macaroons with cannabutter and bathed in murky rosewater to cleanse our self of the day’s dealings. Kicking craving after craving till it expired on the tongue in the form of a tab. We preached fuck the feds like testimonial and got on our knees for a handful of capsules. Knowing nothing of the other than the holy mother Mary Jane and the devil China White pickin’ blossoms of blood. She snickers, ‘Welcome to the Junkie Manor, and have fun finding your way out.’



Harley Claes is a poet and novelist from Detroit, Michigan. The first publication by Harley Claes is a Poetry and Short Story anthology titled ‘Pity the Poetics.’ You can find some of her other work in Terse Journal and Anti-Heroin Chic. Her alternate ego, Lourdes Vega, has no birthplace. She was borne of the dirt and grime that is derived from experimenting with a little thing called trauma. They share no similarities. 

Twitter: @sunkissedgodles
Tumblr: @harley-claes
Instagram: @babybodhiisattva
Website: https://www.harleyclaes.com/



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