Tuesday 6 October 2015

The High And Mighty.


The High And Mighty.

Politicians, high priests of the holy church
of greed, 
Yours are the crimes from which the many
bleed.
See, vice and corruption make their
stand,
with brutal tyranny, walk hand
in hand;
your arrogant minds, lost in ambition's
cloud,
oblivious to the suffering of the humble
crowd.
When poverty's knife makes our people
bleed,
your cancerous power is all you ever
feed,
holding high some ego-inflating avaricious
plan
that divides, soon pits man against
man. 
Now, anguish and war mark your mad
career,
covering our world in the brume of
fear,
then shedding youth's blood by cruel 
deceit,
with spurious pomp, lay the guilt at
another's feet.
As we fall heir to a plunder
land,
you tyrants walk in manner
grand,
what must we do to make you
yield,
to see our children play in a bloodless
field?
Smash and crush your dark nefarious 
power,
allowing love and peace to freely
flower.  
Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk

5 comments:

  1. Verb

    I’m going to wrinkle this word,
    I’m going to twist it,
    yes,
    it is much too flat
    it is as if a great dog or great river
    had passed its tongue or water over it
    during many years.

    I want that in the word
    the roughness is seen
    the iron salt
    The de-fanged strength
    of the land,
    the blood
    of those who have spoken and those who have not spoken.

    I want to see the thirst
    Inside the syllables
    I want to touch the fire
    in the sound:
    I want to feel the darkness
    of the cry. I want
    words as rough
    as virgin rocks.

    Pablo Neruda

    Translated by T.M. Lauth

    ReplyDelete
  2. Like you

    Like you I
    love love, life, the sweet smell
    of things, the sky-blue
    landscape of January days.

    And my blood boils up
    and I laugh through eyes
    that have known the buds of tears.
    I believe the world is beautiful
    and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.

    And that my veins don’t end in me
    but in the unanimous blood
    of those who struggle for life,
    love,
    little things,
    landscape and bread,
    the poetry of everyone.

    Roque Dalton
    Translated by Jack Hirschman

    ReplyDelete
  3. The certainty

    After four hours of torture, the Apache and the other two cops threw a bucket of water at the prisoner to wake him up and said: "The Colonel has ordered us to tell you you're to be given a chance to save your skin. If you guess which of us has
    a glass eye, you'll be spared torture." After passing his gaze over the faces of his executioners, the prisoner pointed to one of them: "His. His right eye is glass."

    And the astonished cops said, "You're saved! But how did you guess? All your buddies missed because the eye is American, that is, perfect." "Very simple," said the prisoner, feeling he was going to faint again, "it was the only eye that looked at me without hatred."

    Roque Dalton

    ReplyDelete
  4. The lord of dollars

    Mother, unto gold I yield me,
    He and I are ardent lovers;
    Pure affection now discovers
    How his sunny rays shall shield me!
    For a trifle more or less
    All his power will confess,
    Over kings and priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    In the Indies did they nurse him,
    While the world stood round admiring;
    And in Spain was his expiring;
    And in Genoa did they hearse him;
    And the ugliest at his side
    Shines with all of beauty's pride;
    Over kings and priests awl scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    He's a gallant, he's a winner,
    Black or white be his complexion;
    He is brave without correction
    As a Moor or Christian sinner.
    He makes cross and medal bright,
    And he smashes laws of right,—
    Over kings and priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    Noble are his proud ancestors
    For his blood-veins are patrician;
    Royalties make the position
    Of his Orient investors;
    So they find themselves preferred
    To the duke or country herd,—
    Over kings and priests and scholars,
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars!

    Of his standing who can question
    When there yields unto his rank, a
    Hight-Castillian Doña Blanca,
    If you follow the suggestion?—
    He that crowns the lowest stool,
    And to hero turns the fool,—
    Over kings and priests and scholars,
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    On his shields are noble bearings;
    His emblazonments unfurling
    Show his arms of royal sterling
    All his high pretensions airing;
    And the credit of his miner
    Stands behind the proud refiner,
    Over kings and priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    Contracts, bonds, and bills to render,
    Like his counsels most excelling,
    Are esteemed within the dwelling
    Of the banker and the lender.
    So is prudence overthrown,
    And the judge complaisant grown,—
    Over kings and priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    Such indeed his sovereign standing
    (With some discount in the order),
    Spite the tax, the cash-recorder
    Still his value fixed is branding.
    He keeps rank significant
    To the prince or finn in want,—
    Over kings and Priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    Never meets he dames ungracious
    To his smiles or his attention,
    How they glow but at the mention
    Of his promises capacious!
    And how bare-faced they become
    To the coin beneath his thumb
    Over kings and Priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    Mightier in peaceful season
    (And in this his wisdom showeth)
    Are his standards, than when bloweth
    War his haughty blasts and breeze on;
    In all foreign lands at home,
    Equal e'en in pauper's loam,—
    Over kings and priests and scholars
    Rules the mighty Lord of Dollars.

    Francisco de Quevedo

    Translated by Thomas Walsh

    ReplyDelete
  5. Stick Boy and Match Girl in love
    Tim Burton (EEUU, 1958 - )

    Stick Boy liked Match Girl,
    He liked her a lot.
    He liked her cute figure,
    he thought she was hot.

    But could a flame ever burn
    for a match and a stick?
    It did quite literally;
    he burned up quick

    ReplyDelete