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Earlier this week, we published our review of WTF Is Normal Anyway? – the new collection by Aberdeen-based, spoken word artist and writer, Jo Gilbert.

Our reviewer, John Bolland, said it was:

“a brilliant sequence of poems which map a life-journey from childhood through love, loss & recovery to feisty self-definition”.

Wouldn’t it be great (he also said), to see original writing in Scots (like Jo’s) recognised more widely as deserving of acclaim and promotion. You can read John’s full review here – while today, we are also pleased to publish another of our selections, by the author, of poems from their book. 

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This is how it feels

Perfect. Perfectly perfect. Perfectly perfect in Paco sweater, pleated skirt, perfect perms, no curl dares stray out of place. Perfect pan-stick, pale pink perfect pouts poised to plant pecks on perfect pink cheeks.

Nae me. Nae Us.

We are thunderstruck storms, raging against Stepford social norms, stomping our ground with Dr Marten souls. Red or Dead rubber jackets purple velvet flares so wide you can hardly see our feet sent home from school in our Inspiral Carpets ‘Cool as F**k’ hoodies. Kohl clarted eyes gaze through pale blue moon shades framed by Janis Joplin dirty blonde waves, unruly, parted like the red sea, wild as a country hedge, growing where we feel like it, thriving, raving, little fish, big fish, outside the box.

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Hankerin

I’ve a hankerin.

A recht hankerin

for french toast,

the wye you makk it.

Mines aye turnt oot spongy,

owerdeen, nae sae guid

nae metter ma method –

usin butter or olive oil,

time soakin the breid,

experimintin wae pans an heats,

bit nivver recreatin yours.

Aa shut ma een, aa smell it,

aa the chef’s kissies, crisp edges, jist perfect.

Picter ma mou openin tae ate it, slaverin,

watchin you, watchin me,

waitin for ma question

‘Babe, how dae ye mak it sae fine?’

Yer best Elvis replies,

‘Made wae a spoonfulla lurve Momma’

ye wink

oot o existence.

As aa open ma een, ma hert catches up.

I’ve a hankerin,

a recht hankerin,

for you.

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The incredible thinking person

For Scott

The incredible thinking person
is super skilled at blowing up
thoughts & feelings to ridiculous proportions, 
to the point where there’s a danger
their head may actually burst.
Thought follows thought after thought eating those 
thoughts and fucking every thought in the skull
breeds more thoughts ties insecurities to childhood memories
and what that cunt said twenty years ago
knots them tight makes them true
until the mind is a scrambled ball of wool 
clawed by an evil kitten into a pile of goo.
Kaboom!
Brain matter splatters over shocked strangers
faces frozen in wide o’s,
unable to believe what they’ve seen.
The incredible thinking person
has finally kaput, packed in, overloaded,
spurted their mountains made from molehills
over the general population.
Trillions of thoughts flop like goldfish, 
twitching, mouths open, close, open
gasping to be fed.

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About the Author

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