Thought for the Day #7

Thought for the Day #6

Plasma Dreams

Floodlit in the orange glow
Of neon streetlights
And exploding in the burnt out embers
Of wished upon stars
Dreams that didn’t make it
Beyond a passing thought
Are scattered across the skyline
And lost forever
In the background noise
Of broken lives
That stream between the gaps
Where the flickering light
Bleeds into the night
And passes over this idle earth

From The Mouths of Bankers......

As spoken by Josiah Stamp, former President of the Bank of England in the 1920's and at the time the second richest man in Britain.

"Banking was conceived in iniquity and was born in sin. The Bankers own the earth. Take it away from them, but leave them the power to create deposits, and with the flick of the pen they will create enough deposits to buy it back again.However, take it away from them, and all the great fortunes like mine will disappear and they ought to disappear, for this would be a happier and better world to live in. But, if you wish to remain the slaves of Bankers and pay the cost of your own slavery, let them continue to create deposits."

Anarchism = Rioting?

An interesting read:

We are here/ we are everywhere/ we are an image from the future

If I do not burn

If you do not burn

If we do not burn

How will darkness come to light?

(Nazim Hikmet, “Like Kerem”)

Clenching fear in their teeth the dogs howl: Return to normality – the fools’ feast is over. The philologists of assimilation have already started digging up their cut-sharp caresses: “We are ready to forget, to understand, to exchange the promiscuity of these few days, but now behave or we shall bring over our sociologists, our anthropologists, our psychiatrists! Like good fathers we have tolerated with restraint your emotional eruption – now look at how desks, offices and shop windows gape empty! The time has come for a return, and whoever refuses this holy duty shall be hit hard, shall be sociologised, shall be psychiatrised. An injunction hovers over the city: “Are you at your post?” Democracy, social harmony, national unity and all the other big hearths stinking of death have already stretched out their morbid arms...

Thought for The Day #5

"On Monday night, protesters set ablaze the city’s huge Christmas tree, which had only just been installed in the central square. Some of the protesters sang carols as they watched it burn."

Thought For The Day #4

"The strongest weapon in the police arsenal is not CS gas or plastic bullets, the deployment of which causes some public concern, but effective control of a willing and uncritical press which causes none."

Bless this Child

the boy was too young to walk
too young to talk
too young to know the evil that men do
and too young to know the beauty of a breaking sunrise
or an act of kindness.
he sat gingerly and looked around
his eyes glistening with life
in the way only a child's eyes can do.
I smiled and he gurgled back at me
his mother ruffled his hair and wiped his chin
i only hope
he's an improvement on the rest of us.

Life

Laying back, staring up at the clear blue summer sky,
Laughing and smiling
the long summer grass,
secretly enclosing your first kiss,
your first touch of female skin,
your first crush, first love,
and your first broken heart.
Then fast forward….

Start taking exams, lectures,
courses you don’t need.
x=y?
'Study Hard'
'Study harder!'
'Do your best', no, 'Do better!'.
Now get a job,
Buy a suit and tie,
the corporate noose hanging around your neck.
Go for an interview.
Be yourself,
If that doesn’t work be someone else,
and if that doesn’t work, lie.
And lie some more.
So find a woman and
make her believe in you.
Tell her lies,
small insignificant white coloured ones.
Drink yourself stupid,
take drugs,
take a risk.
Fuck anything after 10 pints,
blank minds and nights danced away in dark clubs
and darker corners.
Tripping then staggering,
she takes you home,
out of your tree,
out of your mind,
out of love and desperation.
Falling into her arms
falling into bed,
falling inside her,
then falling in love,
Falling for 'The One'.
Eat, drink and think her.
Let her swallow you whole,
every last piece of your soul.
Worship her like you'd worship a God you'd believe in,
like a God you want to believe in.
Then smell her,
touch her,
Remember how she walks,
How she talks,
How she breathes as she lays beside you.
Watch her sleep.
Remember how she touches you and
how you thought it was the truth when you uttered,
'I Love You'.
Stay in, go out,
be together,
joined at the hip.
Forget your friends,
and ignore your family.
Then when you run out of things to say try:
'Will you marry me?'
Twelve months of dresses, churches, paige boys, alter boys,
best men, worst men, flowers, speeches, and a last stag night fuck.
Till death us do part?
'I do'
Lie again.
'I now pronounce you man and wife'
Now buy a house,
a mortgage,
and keep that shitty job you don’t like.
A 40-year prison sentence shuffling papers for some rich prick.
9 while 5,
Eat, sleep, drink and shit.
Find you’ve got nothing left to say to each other and argue.
Need more money?
Get another job,
a better job,
tell more lies,
buy a better suit.
Talk less and argue over money,
Fuck sex.
Work harder, work longer.
Office parties,
Christmas parties,
sex with the girl from accounts.
A ripped shirt,
torn blouse,
lipstick on your collar,
guilt on your lips,
her dress high around stocking clad thighs,
underwear stretched and twisted,
alcohol fuelled sex,
pressed together in desperation.
Then a wave of truth amongst a sea of lies,
'I wanted you to fuck me', she moans.
Now look in her in the eyes and remember your wedding vows,
'I do' ?
Do you fuck.
So fuck her.
get another wife,
another life.
Sleep in late on Sundays,
clean the car,
cut the grass,
read the Sunday papers,
and forget about those
Lying politicians, cheating wives and husbands, Drugs, Wars, Murder One, Murder Two, Prison, Death, Rape, Lies and thanks god for Justice?
Alcoholics, chocoholics, fuckoholics.
Drugged up popstars, moaning soapstars, cheating filmstars.
They’ve got it tough.
Cars, pollution, holes in the o-zone layer, recycle this, recycle that. More death, less marriage. Funerals, divorce, broken homes, broken children, broken lives.
Football scores, scoring with whores, chemicals in the water, homeless people and genetically engineered food.
Take a sip of bottled water while Africa drowns in its own thirst.
Taste good?
Sit back and judge everyone and anyone.
Turn the page.
Car crashes,
Plane crashes,
Train crashes.
Die from cancer, cigarettes, heroin, alcohol, overdoses, Aids, Ebola,
too much vitamin A, vitamin B, too much red meat, not enough red meat, mad cows, dead cows and fat cows.
Too much of this
too much of that.
It all kills you in the end.
Feeling down?
Then go buy a new car, a faster car, a redder car, a better car. A new video, tv, hi-fi, tables & chairs, cookers, computers, irons, washing machines, radios.
It all makes you a better person.
It must be true,
the adverts say so.
Flick the channel over and listen to the politicians:
'Vote for ME not Him!'
'He's the liar!',
'No HE'S the liar'.
Fuck it we're all living one big lie.
Stick your cross in the box,
sit back and watch whilst nothing changes.
The rich get richer,
and the poor scramble over what everyone else has left behind.
Now there's a crime!
Police, Stop!
Want children?
Have children.
Blue eyes, blonde hair, the perfect child.
If you don’t want it, abort it.
What’s life got to do with it?
Bring it up, teach it right from wrong.
Teach it everything you’ve been taught.
Lie to it without realising,
Teach it all your prejudices and
leave the truth behind.
Clothe it,
Feed it,
Mould it,
send it to school.
'Study Hard',
'Study Harder',
'Do your best',
NO!
'Do Better!'
'And don’t do drugs, they’ll kill you'
Hear but don’t listen.
Carry on working until they find no use for you,
now fuck off and die.
Become old and
lose the fire,
lose the fight,
And if it’s possible, care even less.
The government screw you over,
40 years of work so you can sit and waste away.
Rocking chair blues.
Be old,
be bitter.
Sit and mumble, 'What if..', 'If only...' and ‘When I was younger…’
Lose your marbles,
lose your mind.
Be thrown in a home,
a loveless home,
get a visit from a 'loved one'
and forget.
Forget some more,
forget the lies, death, pain, anguish, murder, cheating, deception and then remember....

Laying back staring up at the clear blue summer sky,
Laughing and smiling in the long summer grass,
secretly enclosing your first kiss,
the first touch of female skin,
your first crush, your first love
and your first broken heart.
Then stop.

Forever.

A *cough* optimistic little ditty originally written way back in the foul year of our lord, 2000.

Rich Man's Blues

Song lyrics...

I got a twenty room mansion with my own drinks bar
and a private pool with a dozen sports cars
but see my life's all empty and I'm all confused
'cos i don't know why I got these rich man's blues

I own a yacht in Bermuda and a private jet
and I once lost a million in a racehorse bet
I throw expensive parties to dine and shmooze
but I just can't stop these rich man's blues

I drink pink champagne and snort some coke
from a crystal goblet and a fifty pound note
I'm as high as a kite but I ain't got not clues
as to why i've still got these rich man's blues

Now my gal's eighteen and a beauty queen
she ain't got no brains but she sure is keen
to max out my cards on clothes and shoes
maybe this's why I got the rich man's blues?

See I got everything I want but nothing I need
just addicted to spending I can't stop this greed
so I took me a holiday and flew to Santa Cruz
but even that couldn't shake my rich man's blues

When I got back home I found a note on the floor
from the bank sayin' I couldn't spend no more
'cos my card they said had been way over used
'n this they said would end my rich man's blues

So they repossessed my home 'n took back my yacht
and the shirt on my back was all i'd got
then my gal she left when I told her the news
so now im poor but happy without those rich man's blues

Thought For The Day #3

Way Out West

Song lyrics..

A cowboy came riding from out of the west
with a posse of men and a loaded war chest
thro' valley's then hills and mountain up high
they rode thro' the dusk under a blood coloured sky
now some say he was heading to settle a score
to a gold town ruled over by a no good outlaw
others that the fortune was to be made in this town
was an excuse to cry "Freedom!" and gun people down

Now the towns cruel outlaw ruled with a fist full of steel
with his men hanging traitors with a psychotic zeal
and he forced the people down the rivers and mines
to haul him out gold for just a handful of dimes
both the young and the old, the strong 'n the weak
all beaten by guards and too frightened to speak
and those that broke rank were thrown behind bars
then tortured and buried in the old church graveyard

But the people kept praying for freedom and peace
for the violence to stop and the killing to cease
'cos one day it was said they'd be freed of their chains
by a cowboy who'd come riding from over the plains
he'd give them back their lives and their lost liberty
put a stop to the killing and set them all free
so they carried their faith and lived on in hope
that the outlaw one day'd swing on the end of a rope

Then on a cold autumn morn with rain in the air
the cowboy appeared to answer their prayer
for pinned around town in the fullness of night
'Dead or Alive' posters promised 'n end to their plight
they demanded the outlaw lay down all his guns
and give up his town or spend his life on the run
But the outlaw sent word he'd rather die on his feet
than let some son of a bitch rule over his streets

So the guns they were drawn and the killing began
as the bullets they flew and the people they ran
shot dead in the streets and then out on the plains
their bodies fell limped washed away by the rain
with the last bullet fired and the final breath drawn
a silence descended and the people the mourned
as the church bells rang out a mournful death knell
dead bodies were lifted from the places they fell

And the outlaw he died as he'd lived, by the gun
out of bullets and men he'd turned tail and run
but the cowboy's men went and rode him on down
then hung him on high in the centre of town
so with mission accomplished 'n a glint in his eye
the cowboy aid freedom meant that no more'd die
but as the vicar held mass and buried the dead
their river of gold still ran a blood coloured red

As the killing continued a vengeance was planned
the people sought justice for those killed by his hand
but who they did ask would bring them their freedom 'n peace
as they looked to the elders, the women and priests
then a man did rise up and asked they do as he said
for he promised an end to their bloody rivers of red
for his new laws decreed that no more would die
and with guns locked and loaded they prayed to the sky...

Thought for The Day #2

Quote of The Day #2

"In all history there is no war which was not hatched by the governments, the governments alone, independent of the interests of the people, to whom war is always pernicious even when successful." - Leo Tolstoy

Consumerism Blues

I woke up one morning with a man in my head
he said you drunk too much now get out a bed
so i put on my pants and walked into town
but drunk or not i couldn't see no one around
cos all the streets were empty and the shops bulldozed
the only one standing had a sign that read 'Closed'
so i took a look round and kicked open the door
and strode on it the a department store

Now the isles were empty but the shelves were full
so i took me a trolley and decided to get my fill
I took me some coats and hats 'n socks 'n shoes
just making the most of my consumerism blues
i put my new threads on and dressed from head to toe
all suited and booted but not a place to go
then wearing my sneakers and my retro flares
i took a ride in the lift and went upstairs

First floor stationary and all your kitchen wares
second floor BBQ's and summer garden chairs
i didn't need one but i took one for no good reason
see it was winter outside, right on out of season
third floor TV's and your mobile phones
I tried to call my friends but there was no-one home
so i turned on a tele to catch my favourite show
but i got no picture just some falling snow

fourth floor skirts 'n sexy underwear
i saw me some hold-ups so i took me a pair
thought they'd look good on my girl back home
'fore I remembered that i was all on my own
so i went to the changing tooms to try them on
with some red stilleto's and a lacy thong
i tried to walk but i just couldn't stand
broke a heel, fell over, and hurt my hand

put my sneakers back on 'n took the lift downstairs
all my spending done just trying to ease my cares
but when i got to the till there was no one there
so I passed right on through without a care
and as I pushed my trolley home on up the hill
my goods got heavy and they lost their thrill
so i let go of my trolley and set them loose
'n said goodbye to those consumerism blues

One Eye Blind

You've got a strange way of seeing all the killing in your name
and a funny way of ignoring all the murder and the pain
'cos whilst those bombs are falling and you're off a waging war
it's your blind eye that's turning from the dying and the poor

So don't pretend that you can't see whilst you look the other way
as you talk in double standards whilst you're playing god all day
'cos you won't see the dead and buried deep beneath the ground
'cos your blind eye's a turning whilst you kick the truth around

Then claiming faith in Jesus you jumped aboard a ship of fools
saying you fought for freedom but went breaking all his rules
so as you sing for love of country then bow down before the flag
it's your blind eye not seeing all the dead in body bags

And those beliefs you have are phoney when you say to God they're tied
and so are those you're fighting, would JC have taken sides?
So don't waste you're time a preaching all your claims of right 'n wrong
'cos we don't need your false ideals or your party's to belong

You try to preach that freedom falls through bomb filled skies
whilst the 24 hour news don't hear the people as they cry
and tho' you say it like you mean it's just propaganda in our heads
as the TV tells us what to think 'n your thoughts are all they said

But just one look inside the system and it's all to plain to see
that our rulers sit on blood stained thrones just killers running free
so take a look beneath their veil and we'll see their one eye blind
and we'll know the time has come to pull down their grand design

Do we need a flag to define us and show us how to be?
and do we need these politicians to tell us that we're free?
so let's forget our false religions 'n leave behind our nation states
let's remove the puppet masters and end the killing and the rape

See it's time we came together 'n stopped the murder and the pain
yes it's time we came together and removed these ball 'n chains
but we've not time to wait for prophets like Ghandi and Luther King
we've got to stand and speak for peace and let the change begin.

Thought For The Day #1

The 380

The homeless man makes the bus shelter
his nomadic home
he sleeps where people would sit
on the peeling green wooden slats

His thick grey beard and dark
bushy eyebrows hide his face
creased and worn by the passing years

His white t-shirt is holier than any church
his jeans faded and torn
shoes worn, marked and scuffed

On the wooden ledge above him
he keeps his store of food
1 loaf of bread
1 apple
1 muffin.

He leaves them there all day
and they are still there when he returns
after all,
who is going to steal from the homeless?

He doesn't sleep there every night
sometimes he sleeps in the shelters
along my bus route
i see him on occasion sprawled out
as the bus pulls up.

I often wonder his name
and what he did before sleeping rough
A banker?
A father?
A builder?

He must gave grown up with friends
family,
laughing and joking
enjoying the summer sun
splashing in the sea
laying on the beach.

Someone must have loved him
but now it appears
like many others he has no one
and it would appear no one
wants him

Originally written, 29th November 2000

Mad?

In the rain I stood at the bus stop
droplets of water chasing down my head and neck
cars splashed by as across the road he stood.
A velvetine purple coat
cordaroy beige pants
and a pair of battered white shoes.
His hair frizzy brown
dampened only by the persistant splash
splash,
splash,
of raindrops.
He wore a beard, Merlin like
jutting out in bizarre directions,
his blue eyes swivelling inside his head
in a strange majestic fashion.
He stood upright
looking down at his feet
his hands on his hips.
On the ground lay six clear bags
each the size of a house brick
filled with a white substance.
Raising an arm he thrust his index finger
sternly in their direction
wagging it,
furiously.
Cars splashed by and a bus stopped between us
passengers heads turned in his direction.
When it pulled away he was swivelled at the hips
finger and arm pointing down the road.
His voice was intermittently
loud then incoherent
between the passing cars.
A grey man with a red brolley
sauntered toward him
but on seeing him veered away
crossing the road
casting a suspicious glance
over his shoulder.
Merlin bent down and picked up a bag
looked to his left
and held a conversation
with a man
who wasn't there.
He talked calmly at first
then raised his voice.
Shouting, screaming, whaling.
A girl with no brolley but a large
floppy hat walked by
giving him a wide berth
looking straight ahead
as if there was nothing there
but a large hole
ready to fall in to.
Merlin held the bag in front of his eyes
and stared hard at it.
He threw it in the direction
of the man who wasn't there
and it broke next to his feet
the contents clutching the wet pavement.
Merlin pointed at the broken bag
a finger jabbing in its direction
whilst shouting at the man
who still wasn't there.
My bus pulled up and I left them,
arguing.

Originally written, 16th November 2000

Afterglow

Traces of your afterglow
still mark the places we used to go
I sit in rooms like you're still there
in the flat on that old torn chair
and in the afterglow of day
slivers of light flash back
to Elizabeth Bay.
A long walk then we sit and lay
by the boats and by the shore
I look back and still
I miss you more

Originally written in 2000