Straight To Hell

Straight To Hell

Johnny was a good boy
He just didn't stop to think
The night he flipped his T-Bird
After thirteen rounds of drink
The girl he hit was ten
Her life gone when she fell
Then God took her to Heaven
But Johnny went straight to Hell

Sherri had a problem
And she tried to run from it
She bought a bottle of floor wax
And drank up every bit
They thought she was a good girl
But who can really tell
Her mom went to God for answers
But Sherri went straight to Hell

Billy was a nice boy
Except he was a liar
They put him away when the Andersons died
He liked to play with fire
They did an operation
Said his brain was well
Thirty years later via heart attack
Billy went straight to Hell

We think we are good
You know everybody does
But not a day goes by
We don't break some natural laws
We think we're living right
But who can really tell
Until they're with God in Heaven
Or going straight to Hell

-G. Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Toads That Scream - One for the kids

My friend Scott is a wrestler and an artist and he's also a teacher. He might know someone who will enjoy this poem...

Toads That Scream

Toads that scream

Live by the stream

In the forest deep.

They scream so loud

That all around

No one gets to sleep.

Screaming toads

Make screaming calls.

They drown out other animals.

Screaming toads

Scream out their words.

They even drown out singing birds.

Screaming toads

Go for a swim,

Screaming as the all jump in.

All the forest creatures heard

The screaming toads final words

"We've got to get back out!

Here comes a speckled trout!"

Then there was a splash

And the screaming stopped.

Everything was quiet

Where the toads had hopped.

Now everyone could get some sleep

In the quiet forest deep.

Suddenly toads that scream

Surfaced in the forest stream.

They hopped out on the forest floor

Screaming louder than before.

Toads that scream

Jumped in the stream

Got eaten by a trout.

Toads that scream

Taste way too green

So he spit them out.

Now all around

The forest grounds

No one gets to sleep

Because toads that scream

Live by the stream

In the forest deep.

- G. Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Dance Of The Butterfly

Dance Of The Butterfly

I walked out to the meadow,

Sat beside the hedgerow,

To watch the butterflies

Dance across the endless sky.

Gleaming blade in sweating fist,

Drained the will from ravaged wrist...

Drifted to an empty space,

Met the Mutant face to face.

Surrounded by a ring of black

The final stop, no turning back.

He said I'm just another one

Unaware of what he's done.

Fingered beads strung through his hair.

Fixed me with a mutant stare.

Scratched his nose and shook his head

Stoked the fire, in a whisper said:

"Behold the Monarch Butterfly,

Dancing cross the endless sky.

Behold the Monarch Butterfly,

Searching for a place to die."

Then he stirred the sands

With gnarled hands

Passed a feather cross the fire.

With long dead things conspired

To cleave my tainted heart.

The Mutant smiled a mutant smile

And tore my life apart.

Senses reeling I staggered back,

Swallowed by a ring of black.

Thought I heard my own voice scream

When he unveiled the Monarch's dream.

Heard his voice - "What will you do

When the Monarch's dream is through?"

On the run...

Butterfly.

Into the sun...

Butterfried.

What have I done...

Suicide.

- G. Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission

FREAK OUT (Standing In The Rain)

I'm standing in the rain
And I haven't got a coat
Someone took my sun away
Someone stole my boat
Someone turned my fan up high
And blew away my notes


That's when I freaked out
I got a little strange
No doubt I freaked out
Now I'm standing in the rain


And I cry


I'm standing here in horns
And they haven't got my size
Someone said I love you
Someone told me lies
Someone revved my motor up
Then went with other guys


You know I freaked out
Freaked out


Someone made a dope deal
Someone killed a dream
Someone got wet in the rain one night
And that someone was me


Cause I freaked out
Freaked out


I did some of this did some of that
You know I wanted to belong
I didn't figure once would hurt
But man was I proved wrong
I guess my watch must have stopped
Where have those years all gone


Must have freaked out
Cause I'm standing in the rain
Today Tomorrow Yesterday
Somehow they're all the same
Cause when you're freaked out
Freaked out
And you're standing in the rain
You have to admit there's no dodging it
Your brain's the one to blame


FREAK OUT
FREAK OUT
FREAK OUT


There's pain in the rain
There's rain in the pain
There's blame in the brain
And there's shame in the blame


So I cry


I'm standing in the rain
And I just can't catch the tide
Thought I had it all worked out
Thought I had it locked inside
But it all went to hell in a glass-bottomed boat
The day John Lennon died


That's when I freaked out
Turned upside down inside out
That's when I freaked out
Freaked out


Someone pulled the plug out
Cause I'm standing in the rain
Yes I'm standing in the rain again
And I'm getting wet


So I cry

- G Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission

The Author's Introduction to "FREAK OUT"

"FREAK OUT came out of nowhere. Usually I get a precognitive sense that a poem is getting close, usually just a feel of its basic emotional direction but sometimes a couple words or lines will rise high enough to recognize what they are but vanish too quickly to recall them even seconds later.

These types of 'thoughts' (for lack of a better word)are a constant companion, awake or asleep. They are always there, always bubbling and moving just below the surface of my consciousness controlled thought process. I would describe them visually as not unlike the refracted dapples of light on the bottom of a swimming pool... able to be seen but impossible to grasp.

When these subsurface thoughts enter my conscious mind they change into something more akin to the blotches and spots of light seen when closing the eyes after staring into a bright light. I'm not 'thinking' anything, not 'creating'. I'm waiting for that shape of light to break to see what spills out and sometimes I attempt to write it down.

Anyway, my miserable attempt to describe the 'process of poetry' (at least for me) is more to illustrate that there is a process of sorts even though the poetry is spontaneously 'birthed' (but fully developed) from a blotch of color in my head AND I can usually tell they're coming.

FREAK OUT came right out of the blue. No warning. A fast rising mahogany and gray amoebic shape eclipsing all other thoughts. I was fortunate to be sitting with paper and pen handy but even then barely had time or ability to scribe the words spilling into my brain. It was as visceral a process as projectile vomiting except it was the Under World part of my brain doing the spewing and my conscious mind was the bowl. (A 'freak out' indeed.)

Many times the poems that pour into my head are accompanied by colors, scents, images of various clarity and even music. Not FREAK OUT. It came with a roar of freight trains, thunder and chainsaws. So tangible was this auditory hallucination that I sat dazed (and convinced my ears were actually ringing) for some minutes after I'd stopped scribbling lines.

I dreaded reading FREAK OUT for the first time because I feared feeding the words back into my head would again unleash the maelstrom that begot it, even though at that time I had no clear idea what the words even were, let alone what they said. I won't share what FREAK OUT means to me. There's no point. No one sees things the same way. Whether it's poetry, sunrise or roadkill everyone's experience is unique to themselves.

If the choice was mine, FREAK OUT wouldn't exist. None of them would."

- G Laidlaw

What I Is - A study of fear

"Be afraid"

If ever there was a blueprint for the root cause of everything we do, "be afraid" is it. Fear is the base motivator for all human thought, action and ultimately survival as a species.

Fear lurks behind everything we do, dominates our lives, fuels our decision processes and rules our existence. To believe otherwise is folly. The evidence is all around us and everywhere inside us... if one is not too afraid to see it.

To live is to fear.

The following original poem by G. Laidlaw is one of a continuing series exploring the fear / human dynamic...

What I Is

I ain't Jesus

I ain't the Devil

I dig my graves

With a golden shovel

That I stole from a beggar-man

Scratching life from poverty sand

Eyes raised to the skies

Dark brilliance inside

I dig a hole

'Cause your cancer's alive

You've heard all about me

I'm all that and more

An' you know what I is

'Cause we've met before

I'm the acid rain that ruins a perfect day

I'm the cold sore on your lip that just won't go away

I'm the dark stretch of highway when you run out of gas

I'm the rings left on the bar by the alcoholic's glass

That's what I is

I ain't Ozzy

An' I ain't Alice

I drink my poison

From a silver chalice

That I stole from a little fag

Sniffing glue from a paper bag

Eyes filled to the brim

Cold misery within

I drink a toast

To your nightmares and sin

You've heard all about me

I'm all that and more

An' you know what I is

'Cause we've met before

I'm the unknown soldier with a drumbeat all my own

I'm the tiny click you hear when you pick up the phone

I'm the lights in your vision when you stand up too fast

I'm the heat in the shock wave of a nuclear blast

That's what I is

I ain't just me

I ain't you either

I spin my webs

With black widow spiders

That I stole from a gutterfly

A ripped up pissed on butterfly

Eyes numbering eight

Hold violence and hate

I cast a strand

And thus seal your fate

You've heard all about me

I'm all that and more

An' you know what I is

'Cause we've met before

I'm the ember in the fire that falls onto the rug

I'm the number you can't find when Junior eats the drugs

I'm the knot in your gut when you fold and lose the game

I'm the million cells that die every time you snort cocaine

That's what I is

I ain't finished

I ain't yet begun

To shoot these bullets

From this golden gun

That I stole from your unborn son

Destined to be deaf blind and dumb

Eyes centuries old

Vile horrors untold

I'll fire a shot

Through your heart and your soul

You've heard all about me

I'm all that and more

An' you know what I is

'Cause we've met before

I'm the odor in the air that calls the flies to feast

I'm the evil in Man and the number of the Beast

I'm the pain in your head when the truth is shown to you

I'm the empty void that's waiting when your life is through

That's what I is

- G. Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Just Another Freak - A study in confronting reality

People have a seemingly compulsive need to create a mental/emotional picture of the world, their worth, social status and their own self image. People believe this creation of their own mind is reality. Sometimes, they find out how wrong they are when confronted with what is real. Sometimes, when that mental safety net rips and they plummet from the security of their mistaken belief of what's real they never stop falling into a horror they cannot fathom because it IS reality.

Everyone of us walks a tightrope between what we think and believe is real and what really is.

The following original poem by G. Laidlaw is about one person falling off that tightrope...

Just Another Freak

Your mind is on your image as you leave the office tower.

You join the throng of puppets on the street.

He is just another piece of stinking human flotsam.

No more alive than the filthy sidewalk underneath.

You might have seen him (and ignored him) many times before,

Or maybe you disdainfully stepped past others of his kind.

Tied securely to your puppet strings until you meet his gaze.

You've seen him with your eyes before but never with your mind.

He cuts your strings with a glance. You fall crying to the ground.

No longer as a puppet are you so cleverly disguised.

Your insulating plastic bubble shatters with the weight

Of the truth you see dancing in his eyes.

He licks the foam of madness from his lips,

Pulls a greasy knot of hair from his brow.

His eyes burn fever red as he rapes you with his gaze.

Every dog has his day and his is now.

The scrape on your knee burns with the memory of nylon.

You kiss the dirty sidewalk with your cheek.

Crowds of plastoid people pass by but they don't help you.

When you fall you're just another freak.

He sniffs at the hint of fear, escaping past the perfume

You sprayed on your neck a thousand years ago.

His snot encrusted nostrils flare in eager hunger.

His euphoric state of madness makes him glow.

You cannot reconcile this harsh reality,

With what you thought was real just before

You met the rabid gaze of an honest man,

And for the first time in your life found out the score.

He ripped away the plastic persona

That you carried like a shield everywhere.

He exposed you to yourself and you crumpled.

Fear and loathing of yourself too much to bear.

He moves like a snake through the layers of your aura.

His rancid breath burns like hot wax on your cheek.

Cry out if you want to but the puppets will not hear you.

You've fallen now you're just another freak.

When his scabby hand touches you it burns your skin like fire.

You lay there paralyzed in a spreading pool of piss.

You spent your life planning all the things that you would do.

Never for a moment thinking it would come to this.

Your reality was smoke and mirrors, it will not save you now.

Hiding from the truth has made you weak.

He is from the real world, come to claim your ass

For you, my fallen puppet, are just another freak.

He's ripped away your plastic shield.

Your inner self is not concealed.

Your destiny has been revealed.

Your fate it seems is truly sealed.

A life of truth with no appeals.

Honesty accepts no deals.

Now you know how it feels

To be just another freak

- G. Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission

When Bowie Sings

When Bowie Sings

Behold the girl dancing lightly 'cross the broken glass

Clutching tightly to her bosom a key of golden brass

Does she dance to drive away the cancer deep inside her

Does she know we watch her dance and Death dances beside her

Her mind is like the sunset it changes every night

Her eye are full of long dead candles never showing light

She's imprisoned by the mirror crack and the horror that it brings

But oh what a rush she gets when she hears Bowie sing

When Bowie sings it changes things

His voice

It sets her free

Sometimes it seems when I want to scream

It does

The same for me

Behold the boy painting pictures crayons and Vaseline

Clutching tightly in his fingers a tale of Dragon dreams

Does he paint a portrait of the Demon come to blind him

Does he know we watch him paint and Death watches behind him

His mind is like a blackboard that's never been erased

His eyes are full of tortured screams that never left his face

He's imprisoned by the Scorpion and the horror of its sting

But oh what a rush he gets when he hears Bowie sing

When Bowie sings it changes things

His voice

It sets him free

Sometimes it seems when I want to scream

It does

The same for me

Behold the children running 'round 'neath the darkened sky

Clutching tightly to a daydream they were born to fly

Do they run to the future and its hint of certain doom

Do they know we watch them run and Death will arrive too soon

Their minds are like the sunrise that hasn't happened yet

Their eyes are full of perfect odds but they're too young to bet

They're imprisoned by Human Instinct and the horror that it brings

But oh what a rush they get when they hear Bowie sing

When Bowie sings it changes things

His voice

It sets them free

Sometimes it seems when I want to scream

It does

The same for me

- G Laidlaw

© Copyright by the Author. All rights reserved. Used with permission.