Calling A Spade A Feckin’ Big Shovel

As some of you may know Scotland will have, on 18th September this year, the opportunity to vote for Independence from the UK. I have been mulling over the pros and cons. And I have been waiting for someone to say some of the things I feel and think about many different aspects of it.

In this video I heard it.

Not my most favourite person in the world but someone who calls a spade a feckin’ big shovel and is not afraid to do so.

Someone also who has long fought the corner of the ordinary person and has been vociferous in doing so.

The bigger picture though is that:-

Many of the issues I have with politics and those who claim to represent us were answered in this speech.

Many of the issues that affect us nationally and globally were addressed in this speech.

Many of the attitudes and greed and corruption, not to mention blindness and ignorance, that pervade politics were identified in this speech.

You may not agree with everything he says. I don’t either. But, by god, I agree with a lot of it.

A wake up call for Scotland. but perhaps also a wake up call for a wider audience.

I think I may have made my mind up at last.

Time yet for greater reflection. But who else will call the ‘tools’ into question with clarity so in your face. I need a dose of this in my politics and politicians.

 

Forgiven Not Forgotten

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/12/21/prompt-forgive/

Maggie really messed my mind

I couldn’t focus, couldn’t find

She played with my full deck

The eighties were a nightmare ’cause

I hated all she said, no pause

In drivel. Flippin’ heck!

 

Such a feeling in my heart!

My first to loathe, an awful start

To hate another person

Hearing her on my TV

Could fill my soul with misery

I had to stop from listening

 

If only just to stop the tide

Of hatred that I felt inside

So angry at her reason

How could she quote St. Francis when

Her charity was stripped barren

All I felt was treason

 

That such a one should preach to us

Say she knew because she was

A simple grocer’s daughter

Stripped industry, denationalised,

So many hated and despised

When her minions said all ought to

 

‘Get on your bikes! Go find the work!’

‘No shysters here! Don’t try to shirk!

There’s work for those that matter.’

Of course, the truth was underplayed

Really it was not relayed

That employment was all scattered

 

Across the country far and wide

Leave family and home to find

Or else you get no dole

Humble men with working pride

In earnest, they began to fight

To make themselves feel whole

 

For ethic of the working man

Is so important in their plan

To feed and house those closest

Being called a layabout or worse

Felt like Tories had all cursed

Those who work the most

 

In Scottish land the hate was great

We felt it. God, we filled with hate

At woman and her peers

I shouted and I walked the streets

Demonstrated, fought for weeks

And months and many years

 

Eventually I tired of

The hatred fuelled by her because

It drained my spirit so

I stood at last in public forum

Relinquished feelings of all harm

I really let it go

 

Repentance, no, well not as such,

More preservation for self, so much

Hatred breaks a heart

I let it be and fought with might

Focused on a better fight

We got our brand new start

The Polis

Quite distressing,

Watching news,

So many different

Points of views,

Seeking all to

Contradict,

Never missing

Any trick

To overthrow

Or undermine

Credibility.

 

Lying or being

Colourful with truth,

Quite a message

For our youth.

Give us your vote

On ballot paper,

Won’t screw you now,

We’ll wait till later.

Once confidence

And seats

Are ours.

Now we’re in

A Celebration!

We’ll fix this lot

The whole damn nation.

We’ve got a plan

Just wait and see

We like to call it

Policy.

It’s changed a bit

From just before

Election.

 

The trouble is

Now that we’re in,

We have to deal;

We call it spin.

Shaving truth

From here and there.

We’re cuddly still,

A hairless bear,

With claws

And teeth

That bite.

But, worry not,

We won’t bite you,

You’re one of us.

Well ain’t that true?

I voted, yes,

I put my mark,

My little cross,

My vital spark

Believing,

Trusting in

Democracy.

I feel though, that

I’m standing by

While you get rich

And pass us by,

Pissing up against

Our legs,

Doling out to us

The dregs.

While bankers

Wanked

And walked.

 

Strange, misplaced,

This trust you urged.

Some view the process

As absurd,

When what is said

And what appears

Mismatch. The policy

Disappears.

There’s egg

On all

Our faces.

 

Still, better than

Dictatorship

Or feudal lords

Who, fortune stripped

From workers

Ploughing in the field

Theirs the effort

Yours, the yield.

Oh, wait, that

Seems quite

Similar.

 

A paper mark

Means nothing more

If once you’re in

You shut the door

On faces who

Extolled your worth.

Who’s laughing now?

Oh, you. Such mirth.

You’ve conned

Us all

Again.

 

Honesty?,

I’m so naïve.

I listen and

Sometimes, believe

The shit you say,

You pose and preach.

We are all

Just out of reach

Of mattering

To you.

And other you.

 

Not much to choose from

I see that clear,

With clarity

Not dowsed in beer

That’s taxed

To death

Like everything

That’s left.

Which is

Not much

At all.

 

So, what’s my choice?

Should I abstain?

Refuse to take part

Once again?

Or trust that one day,

Maybe soon,

An upright man

Will fly from moon

And work

To serve

The job and people.

 

Excuse me if I don’t

Hold my breath,

Not ready yet

For certain death.

Is this what Aristotle

Meant

When speaking

Of a government?

I don’t

Think so.

 

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