For Anna & Louise, Laura & Mark – Gen Zers Who Rock

I know my kids have no filter when it comes to conversations. Our topics at dinner are often of their making and Frank and I are about choking some of the time. They are opinionated but their arguments are rational and backed up with evidence and strong feelings.

My niece and nephew came over with my sister the other night and, apparently, her two youngest are the same.

We all ended up chatting together and, by the gods, watch out for this generation. They are nobody’s fools and I welcome their vision and passion.

The song at the end is particularly for my Anna who just loves Marina and relates so much to her songs and themes. This is my favourite of Marina’s.

Ears inside the ceiling hear our anguish, hear our pleading

Eyes that are the windows see our shame

Space we think is fine with privacy entwined

Is a park of public traffic where we’re blamed

https://www.simocowirelesssolutions.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/Technology-Trends.jpg

Monotonous tones of grey tell us what to press and say

While the minutes of a phone call turn to hours

Our data, so unique, while we type or save or speak

Is for sale to highest bidder for its power

Gaslight is fixed on high, set to boiling, we comply

While we go about the daily tasks and grind

Bit players in a scene, merely cogs in their machine

Insignificant in the roles we’ve been assigned

Trapped in ’84, not a novel anymore

Animal Farm is caging us with rats

Poverty and fear, tools of despots far and near

Ermine-clad ambitious think we’re prats

Too late for us, it seems, to fulfil all of our dreams

But the young are not as dumb as some would think

They will not be forgotten though the system stinks, is rotten,

They are hovering right now upon the brink

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a5/39/16/a539166d39c5c4c1452ab044491c657f.jpg

No subject is taboo, what we fear they will pursue

While we cover mouths with hands and show our age

Revolution will be theirs while we gawp in scare

Gen Z will free the future from its cage

Evolving Seed

Virtuality,

New earthbound dream,  

Nothing quite as it would seem,

No one seen quite who they are,

Virtual reason, virtual stars,

Pictures painted,

Landscapes viewed,

Ungestured words believed, imbued,

Compelling world of make-believe,

Open, honest or deceive.

Venture where

Once footsteps trod,

Meet your nemesis or your god,

Faith in all enacted there,

Hidden ascension excluding stair.

No eyes to search

Nor touch convey

Friend or enemy, predator or prey.

World where judgement matters most,

Five senses voided, sooner lost.

Uploaded sixth,

Evolving seed,

Certified at point of need.

Embrace, escape, first sanctify

With power disclosed from inner eye.

Connect the bytes,

The matrix really,

See the feel, virtually.

A Play Wot I Huvnae Writ Yet

A wee play format. Tell me what you think.

Ok, I want to update you on the current political position here in Scotland and have to look at England too to do that. I know, hellish, isn’t it?

But, it gets a wee bit confusing, especially for folk not familiar with the parties here.

So, I’ll do my best.

In power we have the Conservatives/Tories – let’s call them Henry.

They didn’t have a majority at the last election so –

Liberal Democrats/LibDems got into bed with them – let’s call that shagging. The Lib/Dems can be Sally or Paul, if you like. I’m very open-minded.

The Labour Party –once renowned as the voice of the people are now called bastards by most of us here in Scotland. That would be because big Gordy – Gordon Brown to you – worked us over (allegedly, wink, wink) to save his own party/the union/the gravy train. The jury’s out on that one. He’s not as dense as he looks so what the hell exactly he was thinking is anyone’s guess. I have mine. Now big Gordy used to be the Prime Minister after he shafted Tony Blair who shafted other folk. What goes around and all that.

Ed Milliband – poor, helpless bugger that he is – well, have you seen him? Have you heard him? Yeah, ‘nuff said. He’s actually the leader of the Labour Party…..

…sorry, choked on my own spit there. All better.

Well, I would be if I didn’t feel so betrayed by a party that I have voted for all my life, feckin’ canvassed for years ago, paid my dues! So, traitors to the cause in my book. Done. Dusted. Never again. I’m usually very forgiving too. I don’t know what’s come over me. Lol!

So, um who else is there?

Oh, yeah. There’s a crew on the rise called UKIP – United Kingdom Independence Party. I don’t know that anyone ever calls them that. Helluva mouthful. Very hard to swallow. Just like them. Some very dubious words spurt forth from their leader – one Nigel Farage – fuck, you couldn’t make these names up!

He’s basically a plank. But a dangerous one. (Ever been hit over the head with a two by four? Exactly.) All the more so because he doesn’t have policies per se. Just ideas about stuff like immigration and the European Union. Stuff that you can use as a scapegoat for what is going wrong at a local or national level. (Nothing to do with government policies, you see.) It’s all everybody else. Foreigners and all that. You know them. Different coloured folk, folk that talk different languages and have a strange accent. Fuck! That’s us up here in Scotia. Yup, he doesn’t much like us. Fair do’s. I don’t like him. 🙂

Can we call them the Nigels? Nah, that doesn’t do them justice. Can I call them Ali or something? Something that would really piss them off? Yeah. Ali. That’s them. Oh, I want to post this to them!

There’s also the Green Party which kinda does what it says on the tin.

There will be other independents and so on but that’s the gist of the English crew.

Up here, in the thinner air where we breathe and see a bit clearer there are a few other options.

There is, of course, Scottish Henry, Scottish George and Scottish Sally/Paul. There’s even a Scottish Nigel Ali (stick that in your pipe, Nige!) much to my everlasting shame.

Henry’s been dying for a long time – pretty much rotting in the ground truth be told.

Nobody talks about the Scottish Sally/Paul any more. Because we’re too kind to say really awful things about people that can’t help themselves. Really, we are. Most of the time.

George has always done well here, sending a fair few MPs (Members of Parliament) to Westminster (in London/England – not Scotland – whole other country, fyi) But he’s gonna die now too. Mainly because he tried to commit suicide. Normally I would save folk like that from themselves. But, this time, I’m supplying pills/rope/ a big shove/ banana skin. Take your pick. I’m doing it with my next vote. So are thousands and thousands of us – millions actually. So, yeah. Deid! RIP. He once was a fine, upstanding man. I’ll mourn his loss. Long live the king, SNP/Greens/SSP. (Scottish Nationalist Party/Greens(duh)/Scottish Socialist Party.)

We’ll call the SNP, Eck or Nicola because they deserve a mention being as how one has just resigned to make room for the new young face of his then depute.

The Greens we’ll call Patrick because they have an MSP (Member of Scottish Parliament) called that. That’s nice.

The SSP we’ll call Colin because that’s the name of one of their spokesmen. .

I’ll insert here a political compass overview of the parties because it’s very useful. And I like inserting media. 🙂

Political compass uk

(http://politicalcompass.org/test)

International?

internationalchart pol compass

And mine?

pol compass mine

Yeah, me and the Dalai Lama. Best buds! I didn’t even know I was that Green.

I’ve lost the plot of this play! This is why I haven’t finished that bloody book, Mark!

I get sidetracked. But I do enjoy the journey.

So, now that that’s all as clear as mud to you, I’ll head back to the drawing board, Twitter, Facebook.…..aw, damn it to hell, Mark! I’m doing it!

Just not in play format. I can’t cope with so many characters.

traps and trains

…g…o…t…t…a…

 keep it steamin’ on all fronts

– chugga, chugga, chugga –

engine shunts

— coasting on the flat —

/and down the slopes \

\struggling up the mountains/

how it copes

incredulous to see

although horrific

balletic in display

!!!!! so goddamned specific !!!!!

enemies around

trains on the track

no diversions here

‘we’ve got your back’

– choo-choo, choo-choo, choo-choo –

what a pain

gotta win our cause

what? fuck! again?

got…ta…got…ta…got…ta

keep right on

knowing, even while

those days are gone

knackered at the yard

rusted, forlorn

pistons straining

empire days long gone

where’s the change

 in terminology

…locomotive, train…

‘psychology’

wanton in excess

(on all the sides)

aggression wins

oh yeah? hist’ry decides

no worries, folks

Casey’s on the whistle

humming tune, new

 apostolic epistle

***shunty***shunty*** shunty ***

gasp (O) and groan 😦

passengers resigned

shrug shoulders, moan….bugger, shit, feck, fuck!

destination’s further

 down the line

worry not, guys

future’s lookin’ fine 🙂

just around next bend 🙂 🙂

a few more miles 🙂 🙂 🙂

slightly further on 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 (sweat hope!)

we’ll all have smiles 😉

at reaching place

we took the journey to

I’m getting off this train

don’t know ‘bout you.

lookin’ for the trap

by horses led

simplistic conveyance

or just lay abed.

The Ripple Club

There is a world fast awakening to political intrigue,

To the boys in the backroom, the power clubs of greed.

There’s a world beyond Scotland who know and who care

That what’s done in their name is right, just and fair.

There’s a world that I’ve read of in the pages of here,

Shared by citizens of lands and nations held dear.


I’ve read of Canadian, a mayor of shame,

Of senate and congress, American in name.

I’ve read from the pages of patriots wide,

From countries all over, heads hung where once pride.

I’ve read and imbibed all with wonder and awe

That so many are seeing what lies in the raw.


I’ve speculated reasons for going it alone,

The fears and the hopes in this land of my own.

I’ve reflected on words long held dear in my heart,

‘I was not born for one corner of this globe ,

The whole world is my native land’

And realised we, the people, need a fresh start


From those who decree how our story is told,

Inked, printed, pressed, as all stories of old,

Repeated interminably, rehashed as the new,

Emperor’s apparel hailed as if true,

Till child, though small and dismissed as naïve,

Shouts, ‘Naked! Look! Visible! See and believe!’


Far bigger this picture, from nation to world,

I see a new flag, unveiled and unfurled.

Carried by people, the grassroots with aim,

Acting with courage, no longer the lame,

Beginning at home, as all we must try,

Passed one to another, a relay or die


At what passes for policy, legislation corrupt,

It’s the voice of the masses, disgusted, fed up.

Membership of these ‘riot clubs‘, however manifest,

Cannot serve the populace, how could they know what’s best

If blinded by self-interest and lost to cause and reason?

When held to account by Everyman, let no one say, ‘it’s treason’.


It’s the ripples in the waters from the stone that’s cast therein

That make the biggest differences in a world of sink or swim.

I want to be a ripple with the pebble I’ll soon cast,

A vote that makes a difference for a future built to last,

A willingness to face what’s wrong, to look with hope not gloom,

To be the change in stagnant ponds that will let our desert bloom.

High Noon

They’re struttin’ in the media,

A swagger to their hips,

Totin’ power like marshall law,

Twistin’ lies and lips.

They’re chewin’ gum imagin’ry,

Pretendin’ to be cool,

Wouldn’t hold a candle to

Most kids we’ve met in school.

Except, p’rhaps, like teenagers,

They’re mostly bluff and bumph,

I’ve sympathy for evolvin’ youth

But the others get my humph.

Agreements tacit – purposed point –

Parties merge for aim,

Shoot the outlaws, hang ’em high,

Scupper cowboy game.

I’d rather be the native

Or the bountied head – no liar –

Than opportune for photo pose

Captioned, ‘Guns for Hire’.

No slickness here, no brylcremed wave,

No texture to their smooth,

Slippy, slidy, greasy-poled,

Slinkng, cannot prove

A single point, so just pretend,

Repeat prophetic rote,

Fingers crossed behind their backs,

Prepare the new scapegoat.

Run it into wilderness

To carry off their sins,

Load it high with guilt complex.

We’d better bloody win!

 

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.

 

 

 

May Music, Day 14 – ‘Damn Right I Support It’

Pick a song, says Twindaddy, that reminds you of your boyfriend/girlfriend, for day 14 of his 25 days of music challenge.

It’s been a long time since hubby or I could be described as boyfriend/girlfriend. Or boy and girl, for that matter.

So, I’m going with the prompt as a reminder that love knows no distinctions. In honour of all my children. And everyone else’s. Love is love.

boyfriend/girlfriend

boyfriend/boyfriend

girlfriend/boyfriend

girlfriend/girlfriend

All bases covered here. And it still looks and feels like love to me. It takes love to know love. Same Love, Macklemore.

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/