The Illusion

Below are the words I wrote to one of Johnny’s amazing tunes. It’s called, ‘The Illusion’.

It made me think of the circus (which I hate). And politics. And we, the people. This world of ours.

I hope you enjoy the results of this particular collaboration.

Some people may be offended by some of the images. What can I say? I’m offended by them too.

Here is the circus, here is the street,

Ringmaster has found the beat,

Try to keep up with his song,

Try to march in time along.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

See, look, the Big Top, there go the lions,

Whipped to submit, they stride in time,

Prancing ponies do their thing,

All well-trained for circus ring.

 

Fire-eaters and trapeze acts,

Contortionists, acrobats,

Bearded lady, strongman too,

A man who’ll throw sharp knives at you.

Elephants and dancing bears,

Chained and trained with treats and chairs,

Barking seals we’ll photograph,

Voyeuristic, look and laugh.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

Freaks, a frenzy, humankind,

All been hired, so we don’t mind,

Reassured by loud applause,

Menagerie all minus claws.

 

Unicycle, wheel on fire,

No safety net below the wire,

Seats aplenty, catch the thrills,

Captive held, donated will.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

Crocodiles that cry and smile,

Hoops and loops, a queued turnstile,

Welcome mat once bona fide

Shit and sawdust strewn inside

 

Red coattails and top hat guy,

Prices tickets, would he lie,

Roll on up for daring acts,

Roles by rote, learned down pat.

 

Calliope, glockenspiel,

Beating drums, can this be real,

Mesmerised by costumes grand,

Performances all out of hand.

 

Extravaganza, three-ring whip,

Drugged as mugs, all on this trip,

Flashing lights and strobes that blind,

Custard pies but we don’t mind.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

Disassembled, faded grass,

Circus moved, out on our arse,

Try to keep up with his song,

Ringmaster can do no wrong.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

Man Knows It

Old masters, new voices,

Same lyrics, fresh choices,

Classic music, innovative songs,

Yesterday’s kids and today’s belong.

Man knows it, present still,

Past, future colliding, always will.

 

How can you stand the silence
That pervades when we all cry?
How can you watch the violence
That erupts before your eyes?

How can you tell us something
Just to keep us hangin’ on?
Somethin’ that just don’t mean nothing
When we see it you are gone

Clinging to some other rainbow
While we’re standing, waiting in the cold
Tellin’ us the same old story
Knowin’ time is growin’ old

That was a wonderful remark
I had my eyes closed in the dark
I sighed a million sighs
I told a million lies to myself, to myself

How can we listen to you
When we know your talk is cheap?
How can we ever question
Why we give more and you keep?

How can your empty laughter
Fill a room like ours with joy
When you’re only playing with us
Like a child does with a toy?

How can we ever feel the freedom
Or the flame lit by the spark?
How can we ever come out even
When reality is stark?

That was a wonderful remark
I had my eyes closed in the dark, yeah
I sighed a million sighs
I told a million lies to myself, to myself

Baby, to myself
Baby, to myself
To myself, to myself
To myself

(Van Morrison, Wonderful Remark)

Brief Pause for Lost Cause

More care to give than I can give

I cannot,

A pause on lifeline of lost cause,

Regrets, mourned in passing

Demise, Ah poor fate,

Dead loss, god rest it, unpause.

Interred by own hand,

DNR’d, by request,

CPR, though offered, refused,

Cannot care more than dead loss for itself,

Paused briefly, now go on,

Cause choose.

Risk

In, through,

of time, we came,

legates from legions

by and gone,

across realms and empires

marched we, stolidly,

emblems held aloft,

heralding new dawns.


Eyes front, we stared,

saluted all

who primed

our noble task,

conquer, our mission,

advance, attack,

civilise,

plunder mask’d.


Frail force subservient,

power

to the proudest

in each land,

patrician rule,

plebeians cast

in roles,

as statues stand.


How the mighty fall,

destitute of grace

unclaimed

from distant shore,

hear our footesteps thump,  

old rules arise anew,

history repeated

evermore.


Harken

to the trumpets’ blast,

adversay

worthy of the name,

enlightened hosts

call forth conscious

liberation,

upend risk game.

Footprints

Reading some blogs I follow today I came across seven words from this one that jumped out at me. What follows is the result of those words.

Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Balletic strength in honed

resistance.

Rise high above 

the heavy hand,

Mother wreaks her own

persistence.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Tip-toe through glens

and glades.

Hold hands and soar above

unscorched,

Partner’d faith to light

and shade.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Inherent land mines 

lie

In fissures, faults and 

weaknesses,

She breathes 

a weary sigh.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Her balance guides

the day.

Her storm of fury

in excess

Demands

another way.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Night’s end should 

herald morn.

Tread lightly and lovingly 

upon the earth,

Erred footprints

trample dawn.

Heaven Forfend!

Heaven forfend!

gasped gaze to stuttered winks 

ruptured navy sky,

bombarded stars with accursed dimming dust,

acquainted light with shadowed

silhouettes,

merged eclipse to one darkness.

Heaven,  offended, blinked sad eyes,

dispelled day

and bowed.

May Music, Day 20 – One Among Many

Many years ago I studied the poem, ‘Icarus Allsorts’ by Roger McGough, as part of the war poems series my year group had to learn for a ‘major’ exam. I learned it by heart at the time. I think his poem is as valid today as it ever was although, back then, the preoccupation with impending nuclear war felt like a creepy necessity; a scary dystopia we more than imagined we had every chance of being part of sooner rather than later.

The last song, alphabetically, on my I-pod play list, as requested by Twindaddy, made me recollect this poem.  It is ’99 Red Balloons’ by Goldfinger.

It floats now,

 alone,

though one among many,

aspirationally buoyed

beyond the rest,

elevated,

tethered in hearts,

in words,

multi-threaded bytes

reaching

faster, higher, stronger.

Olympian endurance,

against

the  machine.

May Music, Day 15 – Yes! Perfectly Caledonian – with some Dignity

I’m one of these annoying buggers that sing along to a lot of songs. Sometimes even just the ones in my head.

But, singing along and singing along can mean quite different things depending on the occasion.

For this one, think party, people, alcohol imbibed in sufficient quantity to be somewhat reckless in demeanour (pished), end of the night, dj with a smart sense of how to wrap up an evening. Everybody loves everybody else. Oh, yes, everybody loves everybody else. (Except for that wee shite over there that’s asking for a belt in the mush.) Arms around shoulders, linking one to another. Think, swaying in time with stupid grins plastered. Think, starting slowly and then trying to keep up, arms and legs flailing while singing (shouting) along. Timing becomes nothing. Participation is all. Ach, you’d have to be there. And we have, Runrig with ‘Loch Lomond’.

Quieten down for a more melancholy sort of pished and we have, Dougie MacLean with ‘Caledonia’.

Speaking of pished. Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve) and we have, Eddi Reader with ‘Auld Lang Syne’.

And I can’t include Eddi Reader here without including one of my favourites of hers from when she sang with Fairground Attraction. And it’s a different sort of pishing down here. ‘Perfect’.

I had no idea when I began Twindaddy’s 25 days of music challenge how difficult it would prove to be. For a number of reasons. Nor that it would create a monster. I am currently incapable of choosing one song only. But, if you all only listen to one, listen to Dougie MacLean singing ‘Caledonia’. It’s perfect. Yes, for home.

And maybe some ‘Dignity’. Because the two of them kinda go hand in hand.

There’s more to Scotland than all portrayals. Including mine.

 

 

 

Plutocracy or Pissed At Politics….take your pick

This is my offering for mythological P today. I was going to do Prometheus. You know the guy. A big dude who stole fire from heaven and had his insides plucked out daily by the eagle for helping mankind. Definitely not a politician.

Then I did some more reading today. I know. It should be housework. But . Well, just but.

Speaking of butts…

I kept hearing the national anthem when I was writing this. Hum along now.

 

Mythological democracy

A legend once believed.

Plutocracy is now the way.

How ill, this child conceived.

OR

Dump democracy,

Plutocracy rules the way!

Every one of us

is now its slave.

 

Kinda catchy don’t you think?

Check out this for democracy that’s lost the way. And whatever you do, try to ignore the face. It induces vomit. Just sayin’. No need to make ourselves more sick than we have to.

http://johnnyvoid.wordpress.com/2014/04/16/dwp-block-report-to-cover-up-work-programme/

 

 

Freedom

Freedom! he cried,

Or so the film said.

In legends and myths

Our heroes are made.

And they die.

 

By peace and resistance,

Gandhi’s evocation.

In love and by actions,

Recreate nation.

And we live.

 

By power and mistrust,

Dictators’ lips spoke such words.

Vilify, conquer,

Hand to the sword.

And we hate.

 

Love one another

As I have loved you,

Messianic message.

Nothing more true.

And we love.

 

What lives on in legend

And myths we espouse

Are the ideas and concepts

That build each new house.

We create.

 

Freedom, no myth,

For with free will we’re born

Tho’ in life, servitude

Snips until shorn.

But we hope.

 

Hope in our freedom,

A liberty voice,

Our actions, our words,

Heroic choice.

For we are.