Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
Did ye see that?
In amang the chefs, the sofas,
Weatherwummn an the fitba
Free-wheelin up yon street
Sharp left it went, slowed doun,
Sneaked in an open windae
Atween the purple curtains.
Bits o bristle there’ll be, babes’ airms,
’Mang sofas, chefs, weatherwummn,
A trousered leg, a heid or two,
Yon fat-bummed yankee doodle
Cruised in their windae, howdy-doo!
Blood and gore the kitchen wa,
A Jackson Pollock it’ll be.
The bus queue laughed at me,
A clip like that’s no real!
Stey cool, it’s just a pictur show,
Nae mair or less than a the rest.
A wawr? Can it really be?
’Mang a the weel-kent faces,
Chefs, sofas and weatherwummn.
by Rosie Jackson
In the second and final part of his article MIKE SCOTT posits that if we don’t control AI while we’ve got the chance, we could be signing the death warrant for our children and grandchildren
ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event
WILL STONE applauds a comprehensive survey of love in its many moods and musical forms


