That Came Later

It was not sudden

Or surprising

That came later

It was gradual

As erosion

Waves to shore

It did not happen

In an instant

Though some thought so

It grew

By quiet leaps

Then grew some more

It was not healthy

Or enhancing

In its charter

It was rancid

And despicable

With rot

Some said

As some will do

It did not matter

It would be

A policy that

Time forgot

It did not die

It hid, by turns

And simply festered

It passed

From flesh to flesh

And ate at core

It lived and grew

It thrived within

Corrupt as cancer

And radiated

Discharge

Ulcered sores

It did not happen

In a moment

Though it seemed so

It cherished

Space and time

To breathe again

It shook and took the world

But that came later

Wanton with desires of evil men

The Perfect Storm

clould_storm

(source)

Her certainties are vague and always fleeting, dissembled by a will that’s not her own, her thoughts, though rogue, are always so compliant, this the woman cast in role, she must atone, for something that she’s unaware of doing, for being just a woman here on earth, no ladette this, no bloke, no guy, no rugged master, simply born as female, lost, alone.

Watch her work it out that she’s done nothing, nothing more than black or white or gay, observe her as she claims her own potential, watch and wait, she’ll realise and have her say.

Biblically, she’ll clamour for the wild side, back to nature, earth and Gaia birthed, stand at ready, watch the elemental, working in the flesh and soil, rebirth.

See her rooted back to where she came from, note the stature, see the tree within, growing new limbs, sending where they’re willing, this is she, this is not a he or him.

Woman, by her very nature, growth and nourishment she will provide, intrinsic to her sex, and damn proud of it, watch and see her claim her wilder side.

Time was had and time was spent in waiting for hunter to provide the unit’s needs, they left, they fought, became distracted, forgot the reason why, the mouths to feed.

Woman waited, woman worried, wondered, what the fuck and why the hunter late, discovery of distraction, from the purpose, declared the hunter useless as a mate.

Hear the lioness, the mighty mother, hear the elephant, the whale, the mom, want to see a world in all its glory, give woman time, await the perfect storm.

 

The Horse’s Mouth

Your voice tells me

What I need to know

One among the many

Giving truths

Mainstream

Does not cut it

For me any more

I’d rather hear it

From the horse’s mouth.

I wanted to reblog this post here but I don’t know where the reblog buttons have been hidden on a number of sites now. WP glitch or me being thick?

Ashiakira writes beautiful haiku but today he steps out from that short form to write with the same truth and feeling on a situation of national and global importance.

I trust a man who has known the loss of war and desires peace. He speaks for his people even while his government rewrites their constitution. It is in posts such as this that I fully appreciate the real power and importance of blogging. Who else will tell us what we need to know with such honesty but a fellow human being living within the constraints of political machinations? We all know that place; the one where governments decide, press portrays its version but we don’t feel as they do. Please read these words from a beautiful soul.

Blips, You See

It’s just a blip you observe on the radar screen of life,

Blinking near, though far off, can be gauged,

Alerting with sound – a beep – nothing more,

Present but not central to the stage.

The battle is raged from a distance, you see,

No one’s hurt for no one sees the war,

Just a signal  or two between two or a few,

Pulsating but not revealing more.

It’s a secret, you see, though poorly concealed,

It’s written in the stars and in the clouds,

It’s written on the walls, messages revealed,

Interpreted by dreamers who’re allowed

To read what is there, discerning of eye,

Of their hearts and what’s etched upon their souls,

Magnifying bleeps, words and symbols so seen,

Directing them further towads their goals.

It’s the goals, can’t you see, that present so much strife,

Distorted in hist’ry and by lies,

Content unremembered, misinterpreted for aim,

Truth garnered only by the willing spies

And some who recall the way it once was

And some who believe how it should be,

It’s just a blip, can’t you see, in the passage of our time,

A different timepiece, ticking history.

Positive Power

Now, Jack and Jill provided stuff for scores and scores of kids.

Mrs Jones cooked ingredients in pots and pans with lids.

Mrs Jones, their mother, oversaw the plan,

Used profits for their holidays, made sure they had a tan.

She quite forgot reinvestment to keep business afloat

So sold the lot for little and let others in to gloat

At all the deals they offered kids, though none as good as hers,

But, what the heck, they had some choice or they could wrap up warm in furs.

Kids grew ill from poorer deals and begged for energy,

Mrs Jones just sighed and said, ‘It’s nought to do with me.’

 

Now parents who were watching this formed a cunning plan.

‘Let’s make our own and share it out, profit everyone.’

Mains suppliers grew quite cross and threatened retribution,

We’ll pull the plug, through others, prior to your distribution.

Some parents feared the threats they made and shunned alternate ways,

Gave license to the bully boys, regret would cloud their days

As pollutants poured in atmosphere from every kind of harm,

Couldn’t see the benefits of water or wind farms.

Instead they let a mighty few, fraught with greed and power,

Reclaim the day, the night, the world, the minutes and the hours.

 

It came to pass that wars were had to protect the source supply,

Kids sent out, on pretexts, to maintain, reclaim or die.

Some there were who saw the ill of world in domination

To power supplies and oil cartels and bankers, multination.

That such a plan so simple, though requiring thought and vision,

Should wrest their power political, their purpose, point and mission

Drove the owners crazy, lost to right and reason,

‘Lose revenue, supremacy, to whims of nature’s seasons!’

Scuttled to the bunkers and scarpered for the hills,

Parents, kids and governments sighed and swallowed pill.

Tholing status quo as if blinkered by deceit,

Change a liability, back falling at their feet.

 

Unless, of course, a chance should come to harness once again

The energy from better source, Mother Nature and Just Men,

To seize the wind and fly once more, to aid and water all,

Humility in simplicity, no pride before our fall.

Reduced imprint in ownership of Gaia and all nations,

Positive power in every way, no less than heaven’s creation.

 

 

I couldn’t figure out how to write this post. No poetry came to mind at first and I don’t know enough about the intricacies of certain subjects to speak on them without getting into a fankle.

So I figured I’d go for what I’d do with my class or my kids when I’m trying to explain a point where the concept is better served by analogy. I started a little story about Jack and Jill Jones, personifications of the two power companies that once existed in the UK under national ownership until, in its wisdom, the government headed up by one Mrs T (can’t really bear to say her name) decided to sell them off for a song to private ownership. This has happened with all major utilities once owned by the people, now serving shareholders first and ultimately corporate finance whose heavy hand wields the stick capable of influencing decision making in the corridors of power, rightfully belonging to the citizens of a country.

A few months ago I was an undecided voter in the referendum due to take place one week from today. I was waiting to hear something that would convince me. I knew what it was but no one had spoken about it that I was aware of. Then I saw and heard this. That was it for me. Someone else was speaking my vision for me.

This morning I saw and heard this. I thought about it all day and couldn’t shift the belief that with investment, foresight and autonomy to do what is right, the people of Scotland have within their grasp the potential not only to decide their own future but to influence the world in a more positive way. That is what this is about. Positive power.

 

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.

Xenophobia

Perpetuated myth

of stranger evil,

daggers drawn

for devils in

disguise.

Weird, lurking

creatures, strange of

habit, beware their styles,

their foods, their tongues that lie.

Remember to dissuade

all hope of union,

foreigners fierce,

fulsome

of eye.

Bewail

portents, signs,

curses may befall us,

enlist the guard, pogrom,

genocide. Ensure a culture dies.

Propaganda, stereotypical isolation,

belief that diverse

means

alien,

 spy.

Really?

Are we all so

very different?

Two legs, two arms,

One heart, we live, we die.

Valkyries, Vampires And Victims Of Vile Visions

Lay down, warriors, to demi-gods,

you are chosen.

Let virgins feed

all needs 

with meal and mead.

Valkyrie tapestry

depicts your future

while vampires

curse and urge

desire to bleed.

Victims of their visions,

you are welcome

in Valhalla’s halls

for dying

in the field.

Vile mastery,

treachery to living.

Lay down, now,

die,

display you yield.