Mefus Meifod

http://www.dailypost.co.uk/news/north-wales-news/national-eisteddfod-obscene-novel-police-9765348

Mi roedd 'na gyfarfod o Gobra, ym mhle?

Yn Glwb Rygbi Cobra

i drafod croen tenau'r Beirniaid

'gwaith pornograffig, anifeilaidd' 

oedd wedi troi stumog y rhai a ddarllenodd

Dim mefus ym Meifod eleni, na, na dim ceirios chwaith

Wnewch yn siŵr fod chi ddim yn noethlymun

Neu bydd PCSO yn hebrwng yn syth fel saeth

Unrhyw beth all peri tramgwydd i'r Steddfod 

Fase hwn wedi digwydd yn Saesneg dweud?

Nabokov, DH Lawrence a Michel Houellebecq

yn cael ei stopio rhag mynd mewn i'r maes

Tybed pa awdur neu lenor fydd yn cael y cnoc ar y drws?

Gobeithio bydden nhw yn weddus

ai côc ddim mewn 'sbowt' tebot piws.

Pysgodyn Drewllyd yr Eisteddfod Genedlaethol

http://www.bbc.co.uk/cymrufyw/33735233

Doeddwn ni ddim am fynd i'r Eisteddfod eleni beth bynnag oherwydd ni allaf afforddi y tal mynediad fel Cymro di-waith ond ar ôl darllen tudalen blaen y Cymro bore mha teimlaf fel boycottio y Brifwyl bondigrybwyll am byth. Pam? Oherwydd yn fy marn i mae'r Cyfarwyddwr Elfed Roberts ac beirniaid Gwobr Goffa Daniel Owen eleni wedi tramgwyddo yn erbyn awdur gwaith ag anfonwyd atynt. Maen nhw wedi galw'r awdur yn 'ffiaidd', nid y gwaith ond yr awdur. Ffiaidd yn golygu abhorrent, abominable, detestable,disgusting, fulsome, gruesome, hateful, loathsome, nasty, noisome, obnoxious, odious,revolting, sordid, vile, offensive. Nawr i alw awdur ac nid ei waith yn ffiaidd yn swnio yn enllibus i mi! Mi roeddwn ni dan y cam argraff na beth bynnag sydd yn mynd ymlaen yn yr Eisteddfod yn aros yn yr Eisteddfod. Mi roeddwn ni'n meddwl ar ôl i chi talu eich siec am £5.00 fod popeth yn gyfrinachol ond na. Nid yn unig fod y beirniaid yn gallu 'snitcho' i'r  Prif Weithredwr ond mae'r caws mawr yna yn gallu mynd at ei gyfreithwyr ac yntau at yr Heddlu. Uurmm! "Esgusodwch fi ond dwi eisiau fy mhum punt yn ol" 
Yn wir roedd rhaid i mi checkio dyddiad y papur bore mha, y flwyddyn. Nid nol yn 1915 ydan ni rŵan. Mha oes 'Lady Chatterley' drosodd. 

"Ar ôl edrych am eiliadau ar y cynnyrch yma, o'n i'n sylweddoli fod y gwaith yma yn peri pryder" meddai Elfed Roberts,  gan gyfeirio at natur ffantasiau rhywiol yr awdur a'r ofn y gallai'r awdur geisio gwireddu rhai ohonyn nhw gyda phlant ac anifeiliaid". 

'Excuse Me', pwy ydy Cyfarwyddwr yr Eisteddfod i weud y fath beth? Ydy o yn arbenigwr mewn Seicoleg neu mewn Camdrin Rhywiol? Ac yn hynny o beth a ydy cyfreithwyr yr Eisteddfod?

Wel taswn ni'r awdur 'ffiaidd' yma faswn i ar y ffon i fy nghyfreithiwr i go handy! Darn o waith ffantasi roedd yr awdur wedi sgrifennu a dim ond eiliadau yn unig roedd y Prif Weithredwr wedi bod yn darllen. Y Prif Weithredwr nid y Beirniaid.

Ymateb gan Heddlu Gogledd Cymru

"Gallaf gadarnhau ein bod yn parhau i ymchwilio i atgyfeiriad a wnaed i ni ym Mis Mawrh eleni gan yr Eisteddfod Genedlaethol." meddai'r Ditectif Brif Arolygydd Iestyn Davies. " Mae'r gwyn a gafwyd yn ymwneud a chynnwys darn a gyflwynwyd ar gyfer Gwobr Goffa Daniel Owen.     

"Barnwyd fod y gwaith dan sylw o natur tramgwyddus ac anweddus, ac mae'n cael ei ymchwilio iddo fel trosedd dan y Ddeddf Cyfathrebiadau Anweddus."

Plaid Gogledd Cymru

I have been exiled in Cardiff, South Wales for 28 years, not quite as long as the Dalai Lama but long enough for me to be recognised as the Spiritual Leader of North Wales/Gogledd Cymru. All I've got from this wasteland is a Psychiatric Diagnosis. I am not a Manic Depressive. I am a Gog. Well it's the same thing really!

Although born in Bridgend, I was stolen by a Great White Eagle and dropped on Eryri to live in a cave on a diet of wimberries and wifi. Having been arrested for drink/driving on the Denbigh by-pass at the age of 21 I entered voluntary exile in South Wales, knowing that one day I would return and lead the North against the South in a very bloody civil war but one which was required to sort out who was 'boss' in the New Wales/Cymru Newydd.

Having lived in the ghetto/hovel of Grangetown for all this time I came to realise that Cardiff dislikes anything that isn't Cardiff. North Wales might as well be the North Pole. The Valleys are dismissed as an irrelevance to the Capital so you can only imagine how they feel about those North of the A44. I have decided that the road from Llangurig to Aberystwyth is the dividing line. I appreciate that Talybont and Bow Street are South Wales but I'm sure we can come to some accommodation when the war actually begins. General Dai will set up HQ in Machynlleth and our armoury will be in Holyhead. I hope that the people of North and South Wales understand that this war is necessary, a form of ethnic cleansing to re-educate the 'Hwntw' as to who is #Brenin round by ere.

The reason that Plaid Cymru has proved so ineffectual recently is that it insists that Wales is one nation, blatantly disregarding the differences between North and South so here I launch the Party that will be known as 'Plaid Gogledd Cymru' and here is the reason why

http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/north-south-wales-walians-as-8873341    

"We in the Gogledd have had enough of being second class citizens in our own country. No more the ugly sister. Just because you've got the Rugby and the Millennium Stadium doesn't mean you have any right to make jokes about #Gogs. " 

Royal Welsh Rant

I hates the Royal Welsh Show

cos I was a Security Guard there once

and then I worked for the Young Farmers' Clubs of Wales

and was required to undertake a tour of duty at the

 Young Peoples' Village.

Anything with the words Royal and Welsh next to each other should give you a clue.

Farmers on the Piss

Farmers on the Pull

The isolated life no more.

heading straight for the Stockmans' Bar

Human Car Crash

Pretentious Prats in Bowler Hats

Overpriced tat.

Creaking Caravans 

"How 'Fucking Much' to get in?"

Parking Pleasure

Piss Up

Did I mention the Piss Up?

Got to get out of my rural mind because

all those hours on the tractor

are giving me strange ideas.

At Arms Length

At Arms Length

I understand why you do it.

Not your circus, not your monkeys.

My Drama affected you

You were obliged to attend

Now everything is done 

through sanitised gloves

and clinical glasses

no raising voices, 

no emotion, 

no response  

I

call

you

selfish

you

do

not

respond

And why the hell should you?

I am not my brother's keeper

I just wish that he were normal

and conditioned and accepting of his lot

so that my life can be easier.

There are a lot of competing egos round here

I do not have time for this.

No time

In this Life

For

This

Love with Vengeance

https://www.createspace.com/5500215

As a 'Gangster'  Poet I don't write about love.

 I don't know what love is.

 Luke Austin Daugherty does.  

'Love as to war against

Your own frailty

Love as to seek revenge

Upon former occasions

When your love was not love

But a whim

And your passion

An impotent gesture'

This is an accomplished piece of work from a man who isn't scared to use the word and to show us what it means. Like a heart, I broke the book in two parts. The first part is a love letter to his wife and he is unashamedly verbose in this respect. 'No water in Venice' and 'In the Shadow of Vesuvius' are my personal favorite poems. It makes me think that there is hot Latin blood flowing through his veins. I cannot tell you more, you must find out for yourself. You must become explorers of Master Luke's Poetry. 

The second part blew me away because for him to be able to empathize and walk in Simon's shoes and with Simon's gait led me to believe that the love that he had discovered in Part 1 had not come so easy. It was hard won and hard fought for and all the stronger for that. The Poet like all men had experienced rejection but you MUST read the 'Chronicles of Simon the Lover' to discover whether he experiences redemption. Here was a Parable Poem and one that you are compelled to finish. An Iliad, an Odyssey, the Lovers' Journey. Carefully crafted and planned, this book of poetry is life and love affirming and has made me feel at my advanced gangster age, that if I could write Love Poetry like this, then Love too could be mine. 

For you to unlock the Treasure Chest of Love Poetry you must buy this edition.

https://www.createspace.com/5500215   

Testify

Nineteen years ago today, I had a Spiritual Breakthrough and it all began at a table outside the above coffee shop in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. A Rastafarian put his foot on the table and said 'Where you from man?" "Cardiff but I've been working in London for the last four years" "You?" "Kensington Man, Big Explosion, go look" he nodded his head towards the flickering images on the television screen in the Rasta Baby. I approached like a zombie in a trance. Stock footage, Police Library pictures. I shook my head, I knew it was bad and it was. I went back to sit down and with that the Rastafarian said "Hey, I got six toes",  he whipped his sock off. He did and all! I got up to go. I left my two travelling companions, an Ecuadorian from Stockholm and Dave from Manchester. I had only known them a short while but I was never to see them again. I was 'igh on de erb' and I was about to get much higher. I don't know how many days in to my Shamanic Trance Journey I started singing the song below but I know that I was singing it before I got assaulted by the Dutch Police. 

7/7/2005 happened on a Thursday and on 10/7/2005 I was assaulted by a Dutch Police Officer at the Politie Amsterdam-Amstelland, Marnixstraat 148, 1016 TE Amsterdam, 

I had gone inside to ask for directions to the British Embassy. I was told that it was shut on a Sunday. I raised my voice an octave and said "Gentlemen, I do not feel safe in your city" I was pushed out through the main door above, it took three of them mind. Just as they thought that they had got rid of me, I walked back in, put my hands together in a prayer like manner, bowed and said "God Bless You". 

One of them, the fat, asthmatic one was obviously not a believer, he pulled me in, pushed me to the floor and punched me to the back of the head. "Do you want to go to Prison, Do you want to got to Jail?" he wheezed. 
"Well you fat bastard, seeing as you asked, I think it should be you going to prison for assaulting a visitor to your city". 
I had a copy of the Sunday Independent in my hand with the pictures of the 52 people that had been murdered in London, the previous Thursday. Once again, ejected and dejected I started singing 'By the Rivers of Babylon'. Why this particular song? 
I can only surmise that I had a spiritual breakthrough on 07/07/2005. Nineteen years on, I am still trying to work out what I should do or where I should go to give service to a higher power. I cannot call myself a Christian but like Carl Jung, 'I don't need to believe in God, I know'

Cathays

Conditioned Clones

Driver less Drones

Sugar Cube Stones

Beer battered Bones

Traffic Cones

Disused Mobile Phones

Midnight Moans

Student Loans

Marmalade Blues

I told Father (Dad), 

as he dragged the laundry basket behind him, 

that he was in for a treat this morning.

'Toast & Marmalade'

but I also warned him that:

"If you drop marmalade on the table or the carpet, Mother (Mam) will kill you with her bare hands."

"That's Ok, I've had enough"

"Enough of what?"

"Enough of this old life, I'm 96 now,

my father was 61 when he went"

Not the response I had expected, 

"I will do my utmost not to spill marmalade,

I will be careful

not a drop shall fall"

but he thought that the threat was real 

and that Mother (Mam) would see through with the deed. 

I left him to his fate 

and went out to prune the Weigela.

(The above conversation occurred in the Welsh Language)