we are but ghosts in the machine…


beneath a sky of molten lead

my footfalls resonate

with flashes of joy

amid the daily dread

as i breathe in the salty air.

i visit the heart vvitch ♥

and leave,

with leaves

of sage

tied tight with twine

for it’s time to cleanse

– to exorcise these demons

that wake you

and try

to suffocate you

and subjugate you

while you dream.

a bus ride to another

coastal town

where the people, also, frown.

it’s all the same –  same sea,  same litter

the same bitter

taste in

the mouths of many

who voted for a better

fucking way of living,

not existing.

it’s all the same

another reminder

of Scotland’s shame.

it’s all the same

and if it’s all the same to you

i will sit next to the

emergency exit

as i am sick and tired

of Trump and Brexit.

the system is broken,

the world is fucked and

i can’t remember when i last saw blue skies.

if God does not play dice

then he, or she, is colder

and more calculating

than i could ever imagine.

if He, or She, made man and woman

in His, or Her, image then

God is a

master of puppets; a despot

for destruction; a mastermind

of genocide

and yet inside the church with blue doors

the people kneel

and pray…

Hell, they even pay!

i watch the corvids forage

in furrows of fields freshly

ploughed; soil

turned over and


fresh graves, carved out from clay.

i counted four,

in the cemetery today.

how long will it be

until they, too, are forgotten?

(c) Kat McDonald 2017

<< click here >> for more info on ‘smudging’ or cleansing your aura or your home from negative energies.


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