Septic Isle.

 

          I couldn't help re-posting this comment left by Loam on my article on the Cop-Out-26 Carnival of Illusions. Thanks Loam.

THIS SEPTIC ISLE – by Mike Cashman, inspired by the work of William Shakespeare

This sorry state of things, this septic isle,
This den of crony works, this dreadful mess,
This other pigsty, this great fest’ring pile,
This coven of the knaves that won’t confess.

I speak not of the land and people fine,
But government that’s in place by deceit
That’s had so many reasons to resign
But sent integrity into retreat.

This open flouting of all moral rules
For profit and backhanders they call fees,
This treatment of us as so many fools
They think won’t see the wickedness and sleaze,
Or else will brush it off as “All act thus”,
And tolerate wrongdoing with no qualms,
As p’litical manoeuvres on a bus,
Ignoring all the consequential harms.

This focus just on how much cash they hoard,
With ethical good standards in the bin;
That Ministerial code that’s just ignored,
With blind eye simply turned on any sin.

Determination that there’ll be no lessons learned;
This attitude that rules are not for them,
That if you break the rules they’re overturned,
That no wrongdoing will they e’er condemn.

This land with better past, this much loved land,
That had good reputation far and wide,
Is now leased out, by dirty oft bribed hand,
Like to a criminal that does not hide.

Britain, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Is falling fast and left its soul behind
Contaminated now; as PPE
Has dodgy deals and crony contract signed.

That Britain, with ambitions global claimed,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
And never will the Government be blamed
For damage they have done to wealth and health;
Integrity’s another empty shelf.

….with thanks and apologies to William Shakespeare.

Visit ann arky's home at https;//radicalglasgow.me.uk  

To Weather Seasons Such As These.

      Two very recent reported incidents from within our very rich country that should make us all rise up and  crush this pitiless economic system of greed and inequality.

    One is the recent case of a man dying in a carpark in Glasgow in sub-zero temperatures, the other a man dies in the job centre after being told he is fit for work. What kind of society can tolerate this inhumanity? these are not isolated cases. Deaths from the cruelty of the universal credit system runs into thousands, deaths among the homeless runs into hundreds. These are not accidents, these are the result of deliberate policies legislated by people with lots of money and in most cases at least two homes, our political ballerinas. all of them well shielded from the ravages of their ideological policies.

     William Shakespeare's words from "Seasons Such As These" are probably very apt for our times as they were in his:

Poor naked wretches, wherese're you are
that hide the pelting of this pityless storm,
how shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
from seasons such as these.

 

       Homelessness is not a failing of the individual, it is the abject failure of the system we tolerate, but for how much longer, for how many more avoidable deaths?

The Warmth Of A dream. 

He lay in a dark doorway, dreamed of home,
night frost locked his joints
morning rain chilled the marrow of his bone.
In the dream there was a sister,
a pram in a garden, a crowd of youngsters
who called him “mister”, a time of little pain.
Are these youngsters the same young men, who
now laugh at him, throw beer cans,
piss on him as he lies drunk in some dark lane?
When was that first step down this slippery slope,
when was that first step to no forgiveness.
No will to rise to beg for food,
numbness kills the pain.
The dream brings a warmth that feels good,
dark fog shades out consciousness,
an ambulance carries off a body washed in rain.

Visit ann arky's home at https://radicalglasgow.me.uk