Thursday, 20 July 2017

Capitalism, The Devourer Of Everything.

         We view the Earth past and present, and try to see the future, and in our vision stretches a sea of concrete and tarmac, forests laid waste, seas polluted, rivers poisoned and a multitude of hungry pleading for survival. The monster that is capitalism has rained destruction on our planet, endless wars, and the plunder and rape of our planet’s finite resources will continue as long as that beast survives. The insane dream of eternal growth of capitalism is the harbinger of death for our home, the Earth, and all its wondrous and varied life. Look around and see the death throes of a living planet, brought about, not by accident, but by the deliberate actions of a man made system of greed, inequality, injustice and brutality, capitalism is a system of planetary suicide. If it is not already too late, the rescue of the planet must come through the total destruction of this madness of capitalism that devours all before it, in a pointless worship of greed. 
          Only the will of the people will kill the ravenous beast of capitalism, we have in all our hearts that dream of a better, fairer world for all, we have the ability, imagination and resources to turn that dream into reality, but first we must realise that the prime and most important task, is the destruction of beast that is capitalism.
          Man stands atop the ruins of the world, the Nietzschean prophecy of man become a god unto himself seemingly complete. Wherever modern man looks he sees only himself. Reflected everywhere in the animated corpses of his dead creations living only on the power of his dream-magic. The gods no longer find a place suitable to dwell within the great panoplies of mechanical monstrosities. All around the gods seem to have withdrawn, and the manifold masks of the ineffable torn from the skulls of the gods, their naked bodies dissected and discarded. Everywhere in great pools of blood man sees only his own reflection, and is happy. The vast pantheon, the million faces of the earth laid to waste in the ascension of one arrogant ape. It is true, one could perhaps be forgiven in believing that men have succeeded in defeating the gods and taking the throne of creation for themselves.
           But the gods were and are not dead, and they do not rest in idleness. They persist within the dark places. They ready themselves, they lurk, they hunt, and they haunt from the shadows of the world. They no longer dwell on the earth, and we cannot speak of the gods in the old ways. The great and noble lands which they once presided over have been abandoned, left in ruin as the houses of the gods were ravaged for the self-serving ape. Thus we can no longer think of the gods as the old bringers of life, their only task now much more terrible. The vengeful destruction of a great chaos which has spread under heaven. The great pantheon of the gods become a pantheon of world-eaters. Noble and monstrous. Glorious and terrible. They ready themselves in the darkness, striking from out of the shadows of the world. While the masses of men continue to kneel blindly before their fickle, petty, and self-made idols the gods continue to ready themselves, and wage their endless war. Every earthquake which splits the gray concrete strangling the soft earth, every sea-front town swallowed by the rising seas reminding men of the power of water, every tornado which rips apart the decadent dwellings of the arrogant ape with the fury of air, every sinkhole that opens the jaws of the earth to swallow up the world of men is a victory for the ever-wild gods of the earth.
Read the full article HERE
Crazy Ape On Stage.

"All the world is a stage",
so said the ancient sage.
Behold hunger seize life's tender age,
sadly, dying children cause no rage.
Poverty's claws, hard and cold
strip the pride from the old,
once society's pillars  of gold
now broken, their dignity sold.
See our leaders stand aloof
proclaiming war a brand of truth,
draining blood from our proudest youth
sacrificed on greed's ugly tooth.
The crazy ape descends still lower,
death oozing from ever pore
crawls across the earth's floor
turning our planet into a festering sore.
"All the world is a stage",
so said the ancient sage.
Can the crazy ape come of age,
act out a more caring page?

To date,
the crazy ape has written brutal stories
tales of cruelty, of hunger,
painted pictures of appalling wars,
shoddily scribbled trite poetry of criticism.
One day
when he flicks back a page of history
reads with compassion,
asks why?
Perhaps then we can write beautiful poetry
causing a hurricane of love
to sweep across this world.  
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