Poetry by Jo Gilbert

​Joe Lodge CC



Serenity

She’s never known air like it
filling her lungs with its potency
she hoovers up the natural beauty
contented, for the first time

The green in leaves, sweet birdsong
inner quiet, the blue of the sky
billowing clouds white as new washing
fresh from the line
white washing
white
fresh from the line
the line
white line
she could just have one line
have one line
go and score

Her peace shatters
flies off in fragments
this is rehab
and she has a long way to go.





Set the Scene
 
Let me set the scene:
wee tyke, berry-red cheeks, peppered freckles,
neglected, less respected, fettered.
She grew deterred, pre-teen rebel rejects precepts.
She felt pretend, never pretty, never perfect.
Gents v femmes? She settles between them,
hence defy the herd--get elsewhere, sheep!
 
Cement-grey sky, tenements edge the scheme.
We’re spry, keen mystery jets, perched fleets, fresh n’ zesty,
replete energy, shyness recedes--c’mere! Get wrecked!
Tennents, enmeshed exes,    weed          greener         spew everywhere
Creeps detect her, expect sex.
She repels them, yet they embezzle her flesh, shelled by three never gentle men.
 
We defend them
shh never tell
She regresses, keeps secrets twenty feet deep
              —delete scene.
 
Next she enters messy demented eves,
Men? Get! Bell-ends, leches, hedge every bet,
yesss, weekend bender let’s get e’s, speed,
sell few, spend plenty, then exceed every check.
Hyped jesters revel, we rhyme, we reel, we yell
HERE WE HERE WE HERE WE F BLEEP
flex step flex feet veer left melded by tech sets reverb
let’s see yer steel wheels DJ mm chh mm chh mm chh mm chh mm chh mm chh mm chh
 
Nether the sheen, her etched pelt frets,
stretched extremes emerge, they’re relentless.
Entrenched endless excess,
get sleep pellets, meds meze,
these severe cycles stem her reverses.
Self-esteem lessens, depressed spells lengthen.
 
Then she belts Led Zep, The Verve, My Chem,
screeches, vents her spleen, vehemence frenzy,
she expels the event, kneejerk beer sesh,
yesss these these them them, neck the dregs,
feed her, render her legless speechless less less
                —delete her, she pled.
 
Tense, terse, get the teenth, needle, meth
melted every sec, delve the depths, welter,
swelter, restless legs, neglect self,
fester, ebb, extended sentence,
she wept her eyes desert dry.
Her peeps deem--get expert help.
 
She flees the scene, perseveres,
rests, reflects, benches her meds,
defects the trenches, petty resentments, neggy effects,
leeches, the serpent spectres.
Feck dependence, she sets defences,
centres, gets better,
pens verse, lets secrets fly, she’ll never deny herself.
She deserves respect, feels effervescent:
she bested the system, hell ended,
she’s redeemed, she’s free
                 —scene ends.





Woke up this mornin

Woke up this mornin 
didn’t get myself a beer
or a bottle of vodka
or pills or a gun
or any other destructive substance.

Woke up this mornin
and I had a cup of tea,
the future’s uncertain
and the end is always near
but I don’t burst my head
worrying about it anymore.

Down at the Roadhouse,
they’ve got some bungalows,
but I no longer frequent roadhouses
or suffer hangovers.
I still love the Doors and their music,
but don’t want to end up like Jim.




​Jo Gilbert is a spoken word artist and writer based in Aberdeen, Scotland who writes in Doric and English. Jo has won multiple slams, performed all over Scotland and has been widely published in magazines and anthologies - Northwords Now, Causeway Magazine, Dreich and Beyond the Swelkie.

Jo’s work has featured on BBC Radio 4 show Tongue and Talk, Edinburgh International Book Festival 2022, and in several art exhibitions and short films. Past commissions and projects include Look Again Festival, StAnza Poetry Festival, Loud Poets, Ten Feet Tall Theatre Company, (un)mother project, Aberdeen Performing Arts and Across the Grain Festival.



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