Tuesday, 2 June 2020

The Murmur.

      As I have always said, nobody knows the spark that will ignite the fire. Police brutality goes on day and daily, in country after country, and there is an angry murmuring. George Floyd's public murder by the police, thanks to modern technology, circulated the world, that was the spark that ignited this fire. This was not a sudden and unexpected explosion, this is the release of decades of pent up discontent and anger, decades of having injustice heaped on you on a daily bases. George Floyd threw open a door through which our anger could run free and express itself and attack the causes of those decades of brutality and injustice. 
     Of course you'll get the so called voices of "reason" condemning the destruction and looting, but where were they when for centuries the wealth created by the many was continually being looted by the few, where were their voices when the few, through the state and corporate bodies heaped destruction on our home, the planet? In a society where the majority are continually being looted of the wealth they create, what the apologists for the state, the media, call "looting" is merely taking back some of what you created. The trillions paid to the corporate world as a "bailout", is nothing more than looting the public purse by the state to comfort the wealthy few. 
      Yes, this anger may subside, and authority take back control, if that happens, then the brutality, the plundering of public wealth, the gross inequality and injustice will return, and you will have to accept it, or ignite another fire. The state authority and its accompanying brutality will not melt away because you desire it to do so, it will require the full force of your anger to rid ourselves of that scourge. 
      This could be the birth pangs of a new world as it struggles to be born, trying to push its way from the darkness to a bright new future. The choice is ours.
The Murmer Of The Poor

Brokers, bankers, Earls, Dukes,
callous, mercenary, pirate crew
gasconading through the land
Bloated, pampered, privileged few.

Striding with selfish arrogance
plundering as you go
grasping at the fruits
the common people sow.

Take heed, you swaggering fat cats
in our world you don't belong,
that murmur you hear is the poor
rehearsing an angry song.

The day is fat approaching
when our chorus loud you'll hear,
then all your greed and treachery
will surely cost you dear.

A price you'll pay for being blind
to the hungry at your door,
oh, haste the day our angry chorus
becomes a mighty roar. 
Visit ann arky's home at https://radicalglasgow.me.uk

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