International Marxist Group Archive

Magazines, bulletins and booklets of the IMG and its forerunners, 1961–1984

Two Poems

· Scottish Socialist No. 4, April 1977 · p. 15 of the scan · 318 words

The scan is held in the Red Mole archive (not online).

Uncorrected machine reading. This text was read by machine (Apple Vision OCR) from the scan and has not been corrected. Its title and byline were read from the scan. Expect misread words. Quote from the scan, not from this page.
How this article was cut and titled: article areas, title and byline read from the scan (scottish-socialist/regions/ss-no4-1977-04.tsv); uncorrected Apple Vision OCR; scan supplied by the user from their own collection (Scottish Socialist.zip, 28 Oct 2026), not online.

[page 15]

Free Speech The audience take their scats. "Communism Should be Taught in Schools Is the subject for debate. All right. Why not. The children as they have been Taught exercise the right of free spooch. After all it's part of growing up. Later It will stop. And sce how the headmaster's Gaze is cool and clear. I have assured him There are no baby Marxists here. *Madam Chairman ....' a speaker says. I fcel proud, my conscience clear. We are a clean co-ducated comprehensive Planner's dream and vet they will shove their Tampax down the bogs and cut swastikus on The milk machine. .... and if you don't like it here Why don't you go and live in Russia!" There is applause. The evening is drawing To a close. The votes are taken. How clever T have been at knowing what is best. Later I Shall compose next week's motion when I'm alone in bed. *THIS HOUSE BELIEVES IT IS IN CONSTANT CONTACT WITH THE DEAD".

15

Hobbies Like a whale in a block of ice The Otis T. Peabody sits sub-arctic. Today T-bone steak and french fries: film of the week is Lassic Come Home that frockie faced kid has seen it twice and cried. Nuclear motors pulse gently. The smell of fresh clorophyll fills the air. Once they surfaced to look around. Fog and ice. Saw a polar bear on a floe like Frankenstein's creature drift slowly past its breuth hanging in the air. Deep beneath the Pole there is a bridge class Somcone reads Defoc. Another keeps up with the latest bascball scores: Others play miniature pool or go on quictly leaming classical guilar. Deep beneath the ice passing time with hobbies an unknown man in a locked room paints a picture by numbers: a landscape with trees and green mountains and in the bright blue sky he carefully arranges birds.

JAMES RANKIN

← Building Cathedrals in the DesertLetters →

Something wrong on this page?