Robert Newman- History of Oil.

     This is a few years old, but I still think it is worthwhile repeating.First published on Mar 6, 2012, Robert Newman gets to grips with the wars and politics of the last hundred years - but rather than adhering to the history we were fed at school, he places oil centre stage as the cause of all the commotion.

      As remembrance day approaches, this is one way of bring home the truth about the carnage of imperialist continuous wars for resources. Humour is a wonderful way of spreading truth. Well worth viewing the entire piece.

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National Poetry Day.

      Today, Thursday 6th. October, is National Poetry Day, so let's enjoy.

        This one is by Claude McKay, Black American poet, 1890-1948. It grasps a brutal scene form a not too distant America, and an aspect of society which here and elsewhere is once again on the rise, "racism"

The Lynching.

His spirit in smoke ascended to heave,
His father, by the cruellest way of pain,
Had bidden him to his bosom once again,
The awful sin remained still unforgiven.
All night a bright and solitary star
(perchance the one that ever guided him,
Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim),
Hung pitifully o'er the swinging chair,
Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowd came to view
The ghostly body swaying in the sun:
The women thronged to look, but never a one
Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue;
And little lads, lynchers that were to be,
Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.

 

       This one, from much further back, speaks a truth that has been known by some for centuries. It is by Tommaso Campanella, Italian Philosopher, 1568-1639, translated by John Addington Symonds.

The People.
 

The people is a beast of muddy brian
That knows not its own strength, and therefore stands
Loaded with wood and stone: the powerless hands
Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein;
One kick would be enough to break the chain,
But the beast fears, and what the child demands
It does; nor its own terror understands,
Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain.
Most wonderful! With its own hand is ties
And gags itself- gives itself death and war
For pence doled out by kings from its own store.
Its own are all things between earth and heaven;
But this it knows not; and if one arise
To tell this truth, it kills him unforgiven. 

One from the first world war, by an American poet, Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933.

"There Will Come Soft Rains"

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows calling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in pools signing at night,
And wild-plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done,

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she awoke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

This one with a little hope, perhaps, this time, we will get it right.

FROM GEORGE SQUARE TO TAHRIR SQUARE. 

In a global square, in a global village the people are gathering,
They want to sort out their village once and for all.
They have had enough of wild beasts stealing their chickens,
Of war lords pillaging and plundering their crops.
Though they labour hard, they live poor
While the wild beasts and war lords grow fat.
This time they will take the time and do it right,
This time they will finally and forever banish,
Wild beasts and war lords from their village.
This time all our chickens will feed all the children of the village
This time our crops will see all our people through the winter,
This time, all the fruits of our labour will be ours.

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Colonial Butcher Kitchener.

       Well friends and comrades,  it's a new year, will it be a new year's resolution, or will it be a new year's revolution? Will there be the great awakening, will there be that revolution of consciousness when we see the world differently? Will we follow our imagination, and grasp our dreams? Will we realise that power we have through solidarity, and shape the world to all our needs? After generations of being exploited, will we finally stand up and screw the bastards, once and for all. All the best.

           This image, one from those brutal days of empire, must be the biggest insult of the last century, to the ordinary people. Field Marshal Horatio Herbert Kitchener, 1st Earl Kitchener, KG, KP, GCB, OM, GCSI, GCMG, GCIE, ADC, PC.

was a famed butcher of the colonies, in the peak days of Empire. As colonial administrator, he was responsible for many ruthless campaigns to keep the colonies under the yoke of the British Crown. He was also the imperialists recruiting sergeant for that swamp of death, that is referred to as The First World War. Why would the people of this country and those of the former British colonies wish to see this man honoured? Why should we feel any affinity to this butcher?

     We are in for a year of patriotic pish being poured over us, in an attempt to turn the stupidity and the pointless carnage of that blood bath of 1914/18 into a glorious event. An avoidable event, when parasitic imperialists decided to settle their greedy squabbling by shedding the blood of millions of ordinary people. People who had nothing to gain from the slaughter, People who left poverty to enter that hell on earth, and, if the did come back, they returned to even greater poverty and hardship, while their imperial lords and masters wallowed  in glory and wealth.

    There was nothing in the "Great War" for the ordinary people except endless, pointless killing and suffering. Rather than follow the flag waving triumphalism of that pampered parasitic class of imperialist dinosaurs, who would willingly send another generation into the "valley of death", for their own gain, we should be getting very angry. We the people bore the brunt of all the bloodshed, death and misery, while they, the ruling parasites gained all the spoils.

    The First World War, like most wars, was a public display of our lords and masters' greedy squabbling, to further their own wealth and power. It should be remembered as such, and the finger should be pointed at those responsible for all that death and suffering. 

Patriotism

No, I shall not die for the fluttering flag,

if truth be known, ’tis nothing but a multi-coloured rag

held aloft by some foolish hand

inciting worker and peasant to kill

on some green and wooded hill,

peasant and worker from some other land.

Nor shall I shed blood for the fluttering rag

that brings out fools to stand and brag

of brutal deeds painted grand,

deeds where rustic and craftsman lie so still

killed by my brothers' misguided hand.

No allegiance have I for the Nation

this man made autocratic creation

that divides my brothers in a world so small,

binds us to a country's cause, right or wrong,

bids us follow its drum, sing its song,

then sheds our blood in some border brawl.

No, I'll be no slave to flag or nation,

have no ear for power oration,

though its iron heel is on my breast,

my back feels its leather thong,

at patriotism's barracoon, I'll be no guest.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk

WORKERS KNOW YOUR HISTORY - THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION.

   
     In spite of the way that Russia end up after the revolution, we should not forget that it started as a social revolution and was hi-jacked by the bureaucratic Bolsheviks. There are lessons to be learnt, the revolution must stay with the people and not be allowed to be controlled by a bureaucratic party mechanism under the control of a handful of party hacks. Horizontal organisation, not hierarchic.



More workers history  films HERE.

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