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Butterflies On A Buttercup
Today, I danced and touched myself
Left the groceries to them self
I left the wolves in their cave
And spread my wings to find the ocean
I found the ocean like a potion
As the sun danced down on ripples
As warmth cradled clouds
I could feel my nipples
,rise
Then waves and a thousand horses ran
over me
To fields of barley in the sand
A rainbow took my hand
And left me where I longed to be
Within my mind of you
A mirrored reflection came to me
Droplets of water married me
The way this life used to be
I swam where dolphins engulfed my soul
And loved me for my very goal
,In life
I tasted the salt in the wind
And heard the sound of a mandarin
As I danced and flirted with the air
Pan pipes played without a care
Let the wind blow through my dress
And show my thighs in all digress
I’m still as sensual in this, my jest
To what will bring, or follow
I placed a lily in my hair
To the child with this inquisitive stare
But today I dance without a care
I will kiss her heart tomorrow
I read a book and lazed around
I drank some wine and heard some sound
Today the sound came once around
,again
Never give in, and never give up
We are butterflies, on a buttercup
© Robert Anderson 2011
A little foreword and insight into what makes me tick?
I was born in ,“The Gorbals, Glasgow” in 1965 and living in a, “single end” tenement flat on Old Rutherglen Road. This I shared with my parents, two older brothers and a mouse called Jeremy. The term, “single end” for the ignorant or snob, derives from Glasgow slang wording for a one room apartment with an, “in-shot” that would be curtained off for a double bed, “if you were lucky”. With all this luxury you also had the use of an outside, “close toilet” which you shared with either six or eight other families in the close. We were lucky and must have been the richest in the close, as we bought our apartment for the extravagant sum of twenty one pounds and twenty one shillings, ”twenty one guineas”. Looking back now, our mouse must have had delusions of grandeur as it mingled with the lesser class of mouse. It seemed to have a richer pallet and would only nibble on the best of crumbs with it’s cheese treats, that we would take from the mouse trap when mum and dad were sleeping. Mum would always swear that Jeremy was the smartest mouse that she had ever come across.
The Moose In The Hoose
Come here ye we creation of natures blessing
Yer timid and scurry within my addressing
Ah think yer missing and lost in ma dwelling
If only you spoke, then that would be telling
Well you seem at lodging here, in this hoose
Ma wee furry, four legged, long tailed moose
Aye, yer happy to eat ma scraps, and tuck ma breed
But I wonder what goes on, inside that wee heed
While yer sniffing here, and sniffing there
Is it a lass that ye seek, or are ye hiding her?
Hiv ye got her hidden, under the stair?
Or in ma pantry, where the pantries bare?
Is it the wind that ye smell, and want to be free?
Hiv you an abode, ower, under the old birch tree?
Hiv ye a family oot there, that hiv to be fed?
And a wifey tucked up, and heating the bed?
So yer married then, but playing the field?
If she catches ye, yer fate is sealed
But somehow I think yer no the type
To rush willy, nilly, and act like tripe
Ye see for all ye are, and the size of ye
It's all and to me, one big mystery
We moved with Jeremy to, “7 Zena Place, Barmulloch, Glasgow” at the age of four after our apartment was deemed for demolition. We were given a brand new house with two bedrooms, kitchen and inside, “toilet“ which was now termed as a bathroom, as it had a large steel bath against the, “tiled” wall. Things were looking up for me and Jeremy and I was to spend my youthful years in this house. My teenage years were influence mainly around the gang culture, inescapable and predominant in the significance of urban survival at the time. Although never a member of, “the gangs of Glasgow” I was often caught up in their conflicts and learned at an early age how to take care of myself and try to stay clear of trouble.
The Gangs Of GlasgowAdrenalin flows through snake skin shoes
As the razor sparks from baton blows
The beast within the heart to choose
This way of life he walks and knows
Our games to win and talk tomorrow
And walk within the elite with honour
To bear our scars without the sorrow
For our blood will win where badges cower
This blood that spills from every wound
Will generate a new beginning
They will fear our names when homeward bound
With their faces slashed and stinging
We will send a message where justice lye's
The poor are within our shielded layer
They fear not under our watchful eyes
And chant our names when we are there
The glint of razor and tempered edge
Will leave you open like gutted fish
Then watch your faces drain with age
As your insides spill over your piss
Prologue:
Now scars have faded to indentations
I’m none the wiser for my failings
The world still turns and wolfs do prowl
But all has changed on gang lands soil
The gun replaces the weapon of choice
Where drugs have silenced honoured voice
And friendships beware the Golden Fleece
Now greed infests where loyalty ceased
Once we bled in this no mean city
Warriors of choice we asked no pity
We fought and loved to live with passion
And picked which day to be our last one
Now all is silent with most you gone
And memories fade but linger on
In legends tails that sons admire
That night as one we lit the fire
Hating my violent surroundings, I would escape into another word with the help of an old bakelite record on a highly polished and much cherished radiogram. The record title was,
“The Life And Times Of Lloyd George” later to be recorded by Ennio Morricone as, “Chi Mai”. This to me was a thing of beauty where I could close my eyes and fly with one hundred wild geese over the African planes or catapult myself to the horrors of the trenches on the Somme. I was hooked on classical music and the arts by the age of 12 and winning competitions for my school at various venues that cropped up in and around the schools fraternity.If I was ever to be asked to write down what writer or poet has been an inspiration to me? I would have to be honest and say none. My thoughts on, art, poetry and the inspiration behind them come from the very edges of human existence and the darkness of death, seen from a child
’s journey through to adulthood, on all it‘s raw and apocalyptic course. I have a never ending story to tell as I have seen it in a world surrounding me. My poetry, art, photography and articles; reflect around the scope of my universe, capturing love, life and death through frosted eyes. I feel, laugh and cry every word as I see it through my eyes and mind, but I do try and have a good laugh along the way.
The Katyn Forests
The word, 'holocaust' comes from the ancient Greek word for, 'sacrifice by fire'. In the 19th century it was used to refer to mass slaughter, “especially by fire“. In 1938 Hitler predicts that if there is a war in Europe, the Jews will be exterminated. Poland at the time was known to harbour more than 3,000,000 Jews. Hitler swiftly draws up a plan to invade Poland. but fearing, “on the advise of his generals” Russia would see this as an act of aggression against the Soviet claimed territories in eastern Poland. Hitler at this point was not ready to go to war with Russia. He knew that opening a second front before they were fully ready would be futile. With this in mind, Hitler ponders with great thought on the situation at hand and decides to dangle a carrot in the face of Russia. He will use Starling for his own purpose of eradicating the Jewish and Polish problem once and for all. In 1939 a secret pact with Russia is drawn up to invade and split Poland in half. On the eve of this invasion, Hitler, (who regarded Poles as, 'primitive, subhuman') is reported by one of his generals to say, 'Genghis Khan had millions killed, and history sees him only as a great state-builder. I have sent my Death's Head units to the East in order to kill without mercy men, women and children of the Polish race or language. Only in such a way will we win the lebensraum that we need'. On September 1st 1939, Germany invades and occupies western Poland as the USSR invades and occupies eastern Poland. German troops and SS units take every opportunity to torment, beat or kill Polish Jews. All Polish Jews are ordered to wear identification armbands showing the, ”Star of David” emblem. The first ghettos are set up in Poland, and Jews along with the other judged undesirables are forcibly brought in from town, country and abroad to endure the overcrowded and unsanitary conditions. The ghettos are walled and locked, to isolate Jews from the rest of the population. A concentration camp is opened at Ravensbruck. On the Russian side, Polish soldiers along with civilian men, woman and children are rounded up and sent by train or forcibly marched into the heart of Russia, where the ones that made the trip were confined to a number of camps. One such camp was near a tranquil and leafy wooded area, just a short distance from Gneizdovo village near Smolensk. Here in 1940 and under Stalin's orders, the NKVD shot and buried over 4000 Polish service personnel that had been taken prisoner. In 1943 the Nazis uncovered the graves of the dead when the German invasion of Russia was in full swing. Starling of course blamed the Nazi's and Hitler blamed the Russians.
In 1989, “after the collapse of the Soviet union“ Russian president,” Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev” admitted that the Russian NKVD were in fact the culprits of the massacres that took place in the Katyn forest. With this new found revelation he also unfolded another two such sites in the area. No one knows for sure the exact amount of victims that met there fate in the Katyn forest and the surrounding areas.
[NKVD- Narodny Kommisariat Vnutrennikh Del.If you are Polish, NKVD means, "Nie wiadomo kiedy wroce do domu. (Impossible to tell when I will return home).
The Final Solution at Katyn Forest
Oh! how they lined in timeless falter
Within the heat of furnace swelter
No ashes but lime for them this day
As the furnaces were full at play
On the other side of day, they say
And stoking up well for tally made
From empty yards where children played
As showers silence from beastly cries
How fallen the fickle from guarded lies
And history will try to hide it's eyes
For truth be made from mans own bark
In human nature sense will lack
As comprehension blinds equation
We look within all hopes redemption
To make us seek another reason
And humanize with tortured treason
We spill your names in mud's frustration
With much this self abided thought
We lose all sense where guilt is fraught
And change of mind and heart beset
As is easier on the conscience met
Where swastika lays with shredded thread
Besides hammer and sickle, but know no bed
Within these compounds of silent dead
For they tell all too late
To the dead when read
Keeping within the theme of the holocaust, I wrote this next poem around this subject and back to back with the, “Katyn Forest“. I simply could not let this subject rest. The research and stories began to haunt my conscience and I felt that I could not free myself from this until I had written it down and released this from my heart and mind.
But I have to do it with diligence and justice?
During the 1930s and 1940s, German Nazi leaders established 22 concentration camps where Jews, along with Roma (Gypsies), homosexuals, Communists, Slavs, and other judged undesirable, were imprisoned. Many prisoners were worked to death, shot, gassed, or given lethal injections. By the end of the war, more than six million people had died in concentration camps. All the major extermination camps were set up in Germany and Poland. And were used with one purpose and ambition in mind. To come up with ," The Final Solution".
"The Holocaust “, A Story Of Genocide
Barb wire reflects
, through the eyes that survived
The squalor and hunger
, where others thrived
No dementia can erase
, the tears and cries
From my memory of Auschwitz
, before my demise
And the pity for those
, who’ll tell you it’s lies
Smoke stacked chimney’s
, with clouds of death
The loved ones I swallowed
, with every breath
Leaving a smell on my clothes
, that will never digress
As I was too scared to help them
, I must confess
But to stay alive, and tell through my eyes
, as best
Before I concede to lay my head down
, and rest
Smiling guards with snarling dogs
, over pits of lime
Those terrified faces with gentles colour
, as they stood in line
No diary of hope or umbilical cord
, as all is severed from the minds sublime
Before falling in layers
, to the laughter of guards taking their time
And then I shovel
, the next layer of lime
Whilst butted and kicked
, come the next batch of swine
They never ran out of lime
Void of all sense of reason
, whilst lost to any season
The furnaces seemed to burn forever
And the crackling of bones
, would never waver
Nor did the line of the children and mothers
, awaiting the showers
Shaving and stripped of clothing and cold
The deception of the warmth of the shower
, about to unfold
And across the yard were children at play
, on swings and bars awaiting their day
To fill the air with children’s clouds
In mothers arms they swirl in darkness
, and sting my eyes with tears
, a shade of grey
We would enter the showers after the screams
, had faded to all , but my dreams
The old and infirm all lying around
And the children so cold
, as they blanket the old
, who cradled the children, so cold
A bravery in death, that has to be told
In pyramid form the others stacked high
The weak at the bottom
, as the stronger would try
To climb to the top
, and breath clean air
Only to find
, there was no air there
This last ray of hope
, reflects from their stare
And the children I carried
, now peaceful in rest
Away from these horrors at best
But so limp and frail with looks of confusion
Their thoughts and dreams
, were just an illusion
And the fairy tails were all but true
, within a life, that they once new
As fairies and teddies never threw
, you into a burning furnace
With all this hatred harnessed
I place you gently on the tray
, I think of words I dare not say
Goodbye my children as I must stay
And tell a world of the horrors
, of this day
As I closed my eyes
, and wheel them away
Into the darkened cloud
, they fade
All these photographs are in my head
They swirl with the clouds
,of the so many dead
In negative form ,
, and needing exposure
Again I must say
, there can never be closure
There must never be composure
, for time elapsed
And pray to god where answer’s lye
We never again see a darkened sky
We never see our loved ones cry
, or have to watch, our children die
Prologue:
Rest in the thought of justice, but cry in the minds of the blind
I wanted to write a story about the land mine and what it has become in modern day warfare but I thought I would cut it short and tell it through my poem, rather simply written but explains it all. I will start first of all by giving you a little insight into what the land mine is, and around it's functionality. Land mines have two main uses, to create tactical barriers and to act as," area denial" weapons. The latter use seeks to deny access to land areas by military and civilian traffic. When used as a tactical barrier, they serve to deter direct attack from or over a defined and marked area. Without land mines in the demilitarised zones,"DMZ’s" of hot spots such as Cyprus and Korea. It would be conceivable that small raiding parties could cross these zones, since simple physical barriers such as barbed wire may be more easily penetrated. Anti-personnel land mines are widely considered to be unethical weapons when used in the area-denial role. This is because their victims are commonly civilians, who are often killed or maimed long after a war has ended.
According to anti-land mine campaigners, in Cambodia alone, area-denial mines have resulted in 35,000 amputees after the cessation of hostilities. Removal of land mines is dangerous, slow and costly, however, some countries still maintain that land mines are necessary to protect their soldiers in times of war and to suppress hostilities across demilitarised zones.
It does exactly what it says on the tin
Either kills and maims but takes a limb
Destroys your dreams and devastates kin
Advertising in zones where shelves are thin
And comes in two colours of hatred and sin
Plants well it in pathways or baron fields
As it needs no sunlight where sunlight yields
To activate the flower and see how it feels
You will need your foot or a set of wheels
This springs it to life then watch what it steels
As you fall to the ground and the pain now reels
A global weed that needs no rain
It simply functions from causing pain
To this the soldier it is all the same
Accepted within any battles terrain
To the limb maker another source to gain
For the innocent child it holds the blame
As to why the cripple now plays with a cane
Their darkened eyes where once was bright
For futures to hold and adventures in sight
Now stolen too quickly in abundant plight
By a world of greed for power and might
From minds of the scientists blinded to light
Working themselves throughout the night
On this man made evil from Satan’s bite
When will we learn of responsibility
If man makes war and all it’s reality
Then bear the shoulder and take legality
Of banning these weapons of longevity
Don’t push it aside and hide from morality
As history will class you amongst this insanity
Robert Anderson 25/03/2008
All the written material, within these pages are the sole works and property of Robert Anderson. The photograph of atificial limbs was borrowed from a source off the Internet, All other images are the sole property of Robert Anderson
© Robert Anderson 2008You can see more of my work by joining the following free forum for interactive artists, writers and photographers at
