Showing posts with label illusions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illusions. Show all posts

Friday 6 May 2022

Illusions?

           As is usual in this world of illusions, we in the West are always on the side of good, freedom and democracy. So any conflict the West indulges in must be for the good and those who oppose this are obviously on the side of evil. So in the Ukrainian situation we are expected to take the side of the righteous good West and stand against the evil that is Russia. If only it was that simple. The West lead by the self righteous U$A, has achieved the decimation of more countries than Russia can ever hope to achieve. The Western nation states, like Russia, are power mongers, all vying for control of the world's resources, all attempting to seize the largest market share, and all ready to spill the blood of their respective populations to defend or expand their dominance in the field of resources and market share. They will gladly go to war and shed the blood of millions if they feel their dominance is threatened or they believe they can gain an advantage over the other. They consider that your blood is a price worth paying for their advantage. I don't recall a war ever starting because bus drivers of one country wanted to kill plumbers in an other country, or shop workers from one country wanting to kill teachers from another country. It is always the rich and powerful that call for war when they think that their wealth and power might be threatened, full well aware that they will not be on the killing fields, that's up to the bus drivers, teachers, plumbers and shop workers, who will gain nothing from this insanity.

The following from Act for Freedom Now:


SABOTAGE
          The way in which events in Ukraine are presented can deceive us. They call it a war of democracy and freedom on the one hand, with dictatorship and oppression on the other. It is supposed to be the time to stand as one, on the ‘right’ side of the barricade, in this battle between good and evil. But if we look behind the lines of spectacle, we see propaganda from all sides to enlist our bodies and minds for another round of geopolitical chess. The presented juxtaposition between freedom and oppression is false. Every country is at war in one way or another.
        Through military operations outside its borders. By driving refugees to their borders to their death. By manufacturing weapons systems or technologies for military use and selling them to anyone who buys them. Every State oppresses. By imposing its dominant system on its population and punishing its dissenters in an exemplary manner. We can fight the war. Not by being soldiers, but by being saboteurs. Directly, by attacking the war industry that makes war possible.
More broadly, by breaking the social peace on which every State depends for its continued existence.
 
Visit ann arky's home at https://spiritofrevolt.info    

Sunday 2 August 2020

Quiet Bye-way.


     We live in a world where Covid19 casts a dark and frightening shadow, where the blood of imperial conflicts colour the seas and stain the land, where armies of innocent flee across man made borders to be greeted with cruelty and humiliation, where hunger's cruel claws tear at the young and the old. It is our world, a world we can't escape from but can try to alter. However from time to time I take a walk down another bye-way and seek a little respite in the land of poetry. Today I'll take that stroll.
     Though I like a laugh and a giggle, most of you who have read anything I have written will realise that those features seldom, if ever, find their way in to my written word. 
    The following poems are all from a wee book called, "They say I'm Crazy."

A couple on my mother's death:
The Lonely Wynd.

At the bed, death's waiting room,
the family muster,
with empty words wrapped in thoughts of death,
gaily chatter.
Outside, hungry birds feed, sing and fly,
their chirpy songs seem to call her death a lie,
but summer's sun
reaching through the window pane
sadly smiles,
knowing they'll never meet again.
I wonder,
in coma wrapped, what were your thoughts.
Pleasure,
looking back at what used to be?
Pride,
at how, to this life happiness you brought?
Perhaps it was a welcome rest from pain
a just pause in your long struggle,
alas too late, this enigma with me remains.
So rest, in your rest peace be your gain
for you dear mother, an end to trouble
as love's boundless force could not break
death's firm grasp upon your heart,
passionless devouring cancer 
unmoved by prayer on our part, 
took your hand along that lonely wynd,
death took time
fused the moment on our mind.
In the midst of family
alone dear mother you had to die.

That Part Of My Life.

Everywhere I walk,
she dies.
I walk the leaf covered park alone,
she dies.
In each glen, by each loch,
she dies.
In the midst of each merry throng,
she dies.
With everyone I meet,
she dies.
each time I think of times gone by,
she dies.
When the future I try to grasp,
she dies.
There is no place  can hide from
her death.
There is no act that can obscure
her death.
My life is now marked by
her death.
Her death now shapes my life.

On Western imperialism.
Remember Iraq.

Mammon, God of the New World Order
has spoken:
Any nation who blasphemes 
against the scriptures
of the Holy Free Market economy
shall find its people scorched by fires
that rain out of the western skies
and the people shall suffer perdition
through all eternity. 
All the world shall see
Mammon's hi-tec retribution.

A couple of personal views.
The Illusion.

How frail we are
how tenuous our hold,
what a strange trick of nature
that we should feel so bold.
To life tied by a silken thread
burning youth,
a new world vows to mould,
oblivious, as fate blindly cuts the thread,
without a sigh,    leaves sweet youth so cold.

Middle age with confidence comes,
experience expands the illusion.
We cover the world in words of wisdom
believing we
lead nature to the right conclusion,
but she with ease, a beauty all her own,
shows our naive plans as utter confusion.
At what age will we realise,
we always pay for our arrogant intrusion.

In old age we accept the fact
our time in nature's span is small.
How rich, life in nature's domain could be
if to foul greed we refuse to fall.
Accept, we as beggars in her presence stand,
man can flourish and grow tall,
act as her lord and master,
she'll cast man aside like a cheap rag doll. 

Buried Treasure.

Rich,    man I'm rich,
this life, this treasure chest of mine,
crammed full.
Those moments of ecstasy with forgotten names,
burning loves that broke the rules,
quiet meetings that burst into flames,
short lived loves
sealed with brittle vows.
Passions that sparkled and flashed
bringing warmth,     even now.
Ruby red anguish that shaped my heart,
diamond friendships this world can't part,
a son that changed this world to gold
adding pride to my treasure chest.
A daughter brought radiance beyond compare,
of precious gems,     they gave the best.
These jewels, these precious stones
this bounty beyond belief
all mine,
outshines a prince's throne.

A couple on the death of my dad.
Ten Years.

It's been ten years since, dad,
do you still remember,
how your coaldust cover body
clawed in that dark abyss
for your share of sixpence
to feed your hungry kids?

I do.

Do you still remember,
how each day you descended into
that dark hell, laid your life
on the line, just to clothe
your family and your wife? 

I do.

Do you still remember,
how throwing crumbs from the window,
with skill the blackie's song you imitated;
settling down with a smile,
the humble comforts of our home appreciated?

I do.

Well dad,
it's been ten years since you died,
I still remember this and much more.

Then I always will ------- for a portrait
of your humble courage
hangs on a wall,
somewhere in my heart.

The Gift.

You promised me Jerusalem
a socialist paradise,
I have world
of greed,
brutality and lies.

You promised me Jerusalem
a land of hope and plenty.
I have a world
of want,
fear and envy.

Still,
from the bottom of my heart
I thank you for your gift,
a precious dream. I thank you dad,
for all your life you tried. 

Just a thought:
The Seasons.

When you look, it's plain to see,
spring has crossed these mountains,
--------------many years before;
kissed their slopes, with shoots of hope,
promised so much more.

Then sweeping in, in a blaze of life,
summer saw the promises bloom,
---------------many years before;
bathed the dreams, in bounteous streams,
birds began to soar.

So with stealth, and deceptive charm,
autumn cooled the gurgling streams,
-----------------many years before;
slowed their pace, to one of grace,
quietly closed a door.

Now with vulgar haste, and callous force,
winter assaults those mighty peaks,
----------------of many years before;
as gathering clouds, spread their shroud,
memories start to pour.  

       I hope my little wander down that bye-way brought something to you, and prodded you mind away, for a while, from our Covid19 plagued and trouble strewn world.
Visit ann arky's home at https://radicalglasgow.me.uk

Monday 10 October 2011

CELEBRITIES, SEX AND SLEAZE.


           The Occupy Wall St. movement in America just keeps growing and growing but the media coverage is minimal. How can they ignore such a vast event in their own back yard yet claim to be bring you the news as it happens? They will give you lots of details of celebrities, sex and sleaze and bring you the latest sports results, but on no account bring you information that might help you to sort out the problems in this type of society. Gather your information from the mainstream media and you will be blind and impotent, they are a tool of the corporate fascist system that we live under. They do a wonderful job of creating illusions, of weaving impossible dreams before your eyes, they legitimise greed and excess, they glorify war, they bury reality beneath a sludge of pointless drivel. This is their job and they are very good at it, the world they portray is never the real world where we the real people live.


@OccupyTheHood, Occupy Wall Street from adele pham on Vimeo.


ENDLESS BABBLE.

The questions arise. Why war and hunger?
Why does poverty continue to linger?
Why such need in a world of wealth?
Why put a price on a child’s health?
Confused and angry the public stand
gazing in disbelief at this pathetic band.
Those shiney politicians designed by spin
their street credibility paper thin,
the great persuaders looking the mood
struggling so hard just for our good!
Masters of the art of wheeling and dealing
exceptional experts at legal stealing.
Enter the Media, drowning us all in trivial text,
everything you need know
of scandal and sport, crime and sex.
Together they create a world of confusion
all fashion and style, a vicious illusion.
So no matter how often we point at need,
we always drown in a sea of greed,
no debate entered into, no answers found,
the waffle the babble goes round and round.






ann arky's home.



Thursday 13 May 2010

AREN'T ELECTIONS WONDERFUL!!

        
        Comment on that “coalition” government from the pillar of the Tory party the Telegraph which states in its leading article;
         “They [Cameron/Clegg] may be making a virtue out of a necessity, but they are doing it with brio... Such starry-eyed optimism is engaging, but should be treated with caution, particularly given the inexperience of the new administration...”
           While Benedict Brogan in the same paper states;
           "The danger is that an exhausted nation will believe its new leaders, and be sorely disappointed when their brave new world turns out to be a mirage."
           Of course you and I know that these two public school boys will indulge in the same old cuddly up to the rich and powerful, their group, and make the ordinary people pay the price.
           The smiling made up faces of the new kids in town will not make the cuts any easier on us, nor will it do anything for those joining the rising dole queue. We have been to the theatre, we've seen the show, it is now over. Time to go home and face reality and think how to survive the coming onslaught to be delivered by the smiling faces and well manicured hands of those who are immune to such ravages.
 
ann arky's home.