Democracy??

 

 

Image courtesy of The Independent.

 

Representative Democracy?

Day in day out without a doubt there they yelp

Inside their privileged Hallowed Halls of pomp

safe in their protective bubble of lavish pensions

extravagant expenses fat salary and backhanded perks

with theatrics, arguing nuances of deprivation and poverty

with straight faced skill weaving illusions to fool the populace

using genocide and ethnic cleansing for scoring party points

ignoring the blood of innocents that is a land’s poison

with composure complicit in the slaughter of a population

Right Honourable Gentlemen, Members of Parliament

“Representative Democracy” truly a misnomer ,so please,

spare us your devious vacuous fanciful platitudes

self indulgent arse licking pimps of pomp and power. 

 

Image courtesy of The Independent. 

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info

Pope Fred.

 

We should always remember our own.

From slackbastard
October 5, 2023

        

            I recently learned that a local (Naarm) anarchist called ‘Pope Fred’ has died. I’ve no doubt others will have reflections, but to mark his passing from this realm to the next, it seemed appropriate to make a blogpost.    

           Assuming the mantle of a Pope was Fred’s tribute to organised religion, and he further distinguished himself by way of his distinctly un-gaudy, proletarian uniform of white overalls, often accompanied by a black balaclava when performing poetry or weaving a magickal spell. Fred had strong opinions, especially about anarchism. When not being delivered in person or on stage, these were often expressed in short, poetik pamphlets, of which he produced many over the decades. I remember him being especially delighted upon discovering that ‘Oppositional defiant disorder’ (ODD) had been diagnosed as an illness by other men-in-white-lab-coats, ODD becoming one of many signals the universe sent him in order to better prompt his subversive imagination. Despite having a sometimes prickly disposition, I always found Fred to be at heart a friendly indeed jovial fellow, eager to talk creative theory and unruly practice, and to share gossip and stories. I’m sure others will have their own stories of His Holiness, but in the meantime:

Hail Eris!

see / hear also:
Pope Fred, Radical Australia, 3CR, April 7, 2021
Pope Fred 2012 performance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=1XRXnAopCmg
Pope Fred's poetry website: plastique
Fred (aka Ric) was a collective member of the IRL Infoshop in Melbourne, where a celebration of his life was held on November 3. A recording of the event is available: https://www.facebook.com/IRLinfoshop

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info  

Failing.

 

         For how long will humanity accept the pimps and gods of war to dominate our lives. Slaughter in the name of power, wealth and domination over others has plagued humanity for centuries and we seem to have learned nothing. The following poem could have been written yesterday but sadly it was written circa 2285-2250 BCE by the first ever named woman poet Enheduanna and still the Gods of war are "raging like thunderstorms" when will we turn in our millions against the rising wings of war, once and for all.

Image courtesy of Canadian Dimension.

Lament to the Spirit of War

by Enheduanna

loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You hack down everything you see, War God!

Rising on fearsome wings
you rush to destroy our land:
raging like thunderstorms,
howling like hurricanes,
screaming like tempests,
thundering, raging, ranting, drumming,
whiplashing whirlwinds!

Men falter at your approaching footsteps.

Tortured dirges scream on your lyre of despair.

Like a fiery Salamander you poison the land:
growling over the earth like thunder,
vegetation collapsing before you,
blood gushing down mountainsides.

Spirit of hatred, greed and vengeance!

Dominatrix of heaven and earth!

Your ferocious fire consumes our land.
Whipping your stallion
with furious commands,
you impose our fates.
You triumph over all human rites and prayers.

Who can explain your tirade,

why you carry on so?

                                          Image courtesy of Peace & Planet News.

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info   

Unstable.

 

Image courtesy of Refinery 29.

          We live in a very unequal society, a world of inequality that stretches across the planet with its ensuing misery and deprivation for the majority. What our plunderers and pillagers of the corporate parasite class and their state bed companions should do well to remember is that an unequal world is an unstable world. Fractures are already appearing and the anger is simmering just beneath the surface, occasionally bursting forth in riots, insurrection and resistance, built on a shared burden of struggle. As the capitalist system is utterly incapable of creating an equal society as it is based on profit from exploitation, it is also incapable of creating a stable and fair society. It becomes ever more obvious that if we want a fair and just society we will have to dismantle the present economic system of profit which is driven by greed and self interest. There is no magic wand, nor will the change come from above with a bunch of roses. The change we want will have to be wrestled from the hands of the plundering capitalist system we must replace. Banners and polite marches with snap slogans will not force the plunderers to relinquish their opulent lifestyles in favour of equality and fairness. It will take the mass of the population to rise up and in solidarity state that enough is enough, we will be free and live in a fair society that sees to the needs of all our people.

 The Invisible.

We live there— yes— there
A little bit above the dead
But quite a bit below the living
Where poverty is a dream
Deprivation a reality
Our daily bread an illusion
We sigh--we weep—
As ruthless poverty
With its cold claws
Tears the heart from our children
We ask—WHY?
Surrounded by opulence
Invisible to arrogant greed
Anger simmers beneath the surface
We seek equality
We will have justice
If blood is the price
So be it. 

 

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info    

Revolting Art.

 

             I posted this piece back on the 7th July, but thought it worth while to remind people of this exhibition by Eaun Sutherland, a long time active comrade.

          We live in a world of chaos, pillage and plunder, all managed and manipulated by powerful and rich individuals and corporations, aided and abetted by the various states. All to their advantage at the expense of the lives of ordinary people, the ones who actually produce all that wealth. Wars, ecological disasters, mass poverty, gross injustice and inequality is the norm produced by this economic system of insanity and greed.
          However, below the surface there is always a rumbling of anger and an army of people working hard at trying to change this mayhem to a fairer and sustainable system, a system freed from the profit motive, that sees to the needs of all our people built on mutual aid and co-operation.
          That underground army must use every means at its disposal from literature on the streets, autonomous spaces, community based mutual aid groups, workplace organisations that build solidarity, mass protests, direct action, strikes and reminding everybody of the history of this economic system of greed and exploitation.
         We also should never forget the part art and poetry can make to this struggle for justice. Both these mediums can inspire, point a direction, awaken those feelings of desire for freedom and explain the basic injustices of the present economic system. 

          So, not to be missed is an exhibition of art works by Euan Sutherland, Portraits of Power. This will run from Tuesday 1st to Saturday 12th. August and will be held in The Deep End 21 Nithsdale Street G41 2PZ This exhibition will be part of the Govanhill International Festival here is a copy of the festival program

 

 

Between Dignity and Poverty

In this metropolis of wealth with its fountains of opulence
We are the excluded army that walks that tightrope
Between dignity and poverty.
The excluded, the marginalised, the forgotten,
Regulated by mercenaries, some with guns, others with pens.
They know not, we are their brothers and sisters.
Nor do they know,
Our strength is forged in the humiliation of the bread line
Our daily question, will there be food,
Or will the pangs of hunger stay.
We exist in a system of numbers and balance sheets,
Our lives, dehumanised statistics,
Catalogued and filed by a blind accountant.
When asked to count our dead, do we count the living dead?
Will this tightrope be the inheritance to our children
Or shall our tortured journey lead us from anxiety to revolt
Will the anguish of our children feed our righteous anger
Causing us to tear asunder this fabricated web of injustice 

 

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info  

Dark Times.

Image courtesy of UN News. 

 

TODAY

In these mad times where cluster bombs are OK
where shattered limbs an acceptable price to pay
crumpled buildings cratered streets where people stay
cities of weeping children who forgot how to play
Our modern power driven world in rapid decay
we can but hope that soon sanity will have its say

 

Image courtesy of Hi.Org.

 

        In these dark days when pimps of war seem to hold the upper hand and bosses of the capitalist juggernaut grow fat on the bloody proceeds of those wars, I thought it world be fitting to post one of  Theodore Roethke poems, In A Dark Time.

 

IN A DARK TIME

 

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,

I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;   

I hear my echo in the echoing wood—

A lord of nature weeping to a tree.

I live between the heron and the wren,   

Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What’s madness but nobility of soul

At odds with circumstance? The day’s on fire!   

I know the purity of pure despair,

My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.   

That place among the rocks—is it a cave,   

Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!

A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,   

And in broad day the midnight come again!   

A man goes far to find out what he is—

Death of the self in a long, tearless night,   

All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.   

My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,   

Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?

A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.   

The mind enters itself, and God the mind,   

And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

  

 By Theodore Roethke

 

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info 

Fires.

Image courtesy of Euro News.

FIRES OF THE FUTURE.

 
I am fire,
I surge, I hiss,
sometimes bursting forth in a flame
that lights up the world
illuminating unimagined dreams.
Then the black cloak
blankets out the glow.
Again all is dark,
but, still
beneath the surface
I surge, I hiss,
I endure, waiting, seeking,
building up pressure.
One day I will explode
destroying forever
the Tartarean crust of oppression.
I am fire,
I am the people.

           The foundations of the capitalist society are built on bricks made of the work and exploitation of the ordinary people. These foundations are very weak, as pillage and plunder rampages across humanity and injustice roars with laughter. There is always a simmering anger just below the surface, and sometimes it explodes through the chimera of stability and lets the dream of freedom and justice run free scattering the seeds of hope. It always takes the state's full exercise of power and brutality to quell and control this explosion, but it can never extinguish that simmering anger and desire for justice and freedom.
          One such explosion was recently plainly visible in France, where anger burst forth and claimed the streets and displayed what it thought of this subservient exploitative and brutal system. The anger was plain to see as the state's brutal apparatus tried to stem the flow of that desire for freedom and justice. 

           The following extract is from an article that documents the physical result of the explosion of anger but can't detail the feelings that started it and the feelings that it has lit in the hearts and minds of so many. Long live anarchy, which will blow like a breath of fresh air through the decaying pungent smell of exploitation and injustice. 

Image courtesy of Daily Mail.

Today’s Figures on the Riots

 In total, between the night of June 27 to 28 and July 2 to 3, there were officially 12 031 vehicles burned, 2 508 buildings burned down or damaged, including 273 police and gendarmerie premises, 105 town halls burnt or damaged, 168 schools were attacked. 722 law enforcement personnel were injured.

3,625 people were taken into custody throughout the territory (1,124 of whom are minors). Among all those arrested, « the average age is between 17 and 18 (…) the youngest is 11 years old and the oldest 59 years old, one third are minors”, “60% of the total have no criminal record”, «10% of the people arrested are non-French and there have been 40 placements in administrative detention centres» according to the Minister of Interior. Of the detained persons, 990 of the age of majority and 253 minors were referred to the prosecutor’s office, and 480 of the age of majority were referred to the court for immediate appearance. To date, 380 people have been sent to prison, whether they have been sentenced or placed in pre-trial detention pending trial.

Continue READING 

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info     

Revolting Art

          We live in a world of chaos, pillage and plunder, all managed and manipulated by powerful and rich individuals and corporations, aided and abetted by the various states. All to their advantage at the expense of the lives of ordinary people, the ones who actually produce all that wealth. Wars, ecological disasters, mass poverty, gross injustice and inequality is the norm produced by this economic system of insanity and greed.
          However, below the surface there is always a rumbling of anger and an army of people working hard at trying to change this mayhem to a fairer and sustainable system, a system freed from the profit motive, that sees to the needs of all our people built on mutual aid and co-operation.
          That underground army must use every means at its disposal from literature on the streets, autonomous spaces, community based mutual aid groups, workplace organisations that build solidarity, mass protests, direct action, strikes and reminding everybody of the history of this economic system of greed and exploitation.
         We also should never forget the part art and poetry can make to this struggle for justice. Both these mediums can inspire, point a direction, awaken those feelings of desire for freedom and explain the basic injustices of the present economic system. 

          So, not to be missed is an exhibition of art works by Euan Sutherland, Portraits of Power. This will run from Tuesday 1st to Saturday 12th. August and will be held in The Deep End 21 Nithsdale Street G41 2PZ This exhibition will be part of the Govanhill International Festival here is a copy of the festival program

 

 

Between Dignity and Poverty

In this metropolis of wealth with its fountains of opulence
We are the excluded army that walks that tightrope
Between dignity and poverty.
The excluded, the marginalised, the forgotten,
Regulated by mercenaries, some with guns, others with pens.
They know not, we are their brothers and sisters.
Nor do they know,
Our strength is forged in the humiliation of the bread line
Our daily question, will there be food,
Or will the pangs of hunger stay.
We exist in a system of numbers and balance sheets,
Our lives, dehumanised statistics,
Catalogued and filed by a blind accountant.
When asked to count our dead, do we count the living dead?
Will this tightrope be the inheritance to our children
Or shall our tortured journey lead us from anxiety to revolt
Will the anguish of our children feed our righteous anger
Causing us to tear asunder this fabricated web of injustice 

 

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info  

Rebel.

                  The state relies on a submissive population, one of its tools to engender this submissiveness is the virus of patriotism. It needs you to feel you owe an allegiance to the state and its flag, so that you can be used as cannon fodder in its many power driven wars. They attempt to create the illusion that the state is there for you, where as they have created a society where, in actual fact, we are there for them. To be used as tools for creating wealth for the few and dying to protect their power, wealth and privileges. Our submissiveness to this arrangement makes us complicit in our own slavery, and in prolonging our world of broken dreams and hollow promises. Our placid acceptance of this hollowed out world is entirely up to us, we have the numbers, the imagination, power and ability to end this insanity and create that better world free from profit, greed and exploitation.

 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.

 The following extract from the magazine, The Local Kids.

     

        The initial shock of a new war in Europe has provoked the tired argument that an exceptional event merits an exceptional response. Nevertheless, many before us have been confronted with unprecedented events and have found their anarchist position. Anti-patriotism isn’t an unrealistic position: the discussion of taking sides between warring states is deceitful even in its most pragmatic form. War doesn’t turn authoritarians into humanitarians. On the contrary, strategic calculations become more ruthless. A victorious state will not be generous to anti-authoritarians even if they temporarily ally themselves with the armed forces. On the contrary, the state thrives and is emboldened by patriotic fervour. We should refuse the blackmail of kill or be killed but that doesn’t mean that we should march with the opportunists who now claim pacifism. Although the world doesn’t come back as it was before, anarchists do not start from nothing in finding our way through the perennial challenges of our days. Our hearts still beat for direct actions against war mobilization because there’s nothing liberating in being soldiers and fighting their wars.
          Take care and greetings to everyone out there taking advantage of the interruptions!

PDF on thelocalkids.noblogs.org

Visit ann arky at https://spiritofrevolt.info

HMP.

            I reproduce this poem here as I think it is important to remind the general public that His Majesty's Prisons house human beings with talent and creative and independent minds and a desire for love and peace.
            It is taken from the book Independent Minds, New Poetry from HMP Kilmarnock, edited by Kevin Williamson and published by Luath Press, Edinburgh, ISBN 978-1-910021-00-2

Forgive and Forget,

Can we now forgive humanity
For all its abuse and brutality?
Wars in the east; wars in the west
For politicians, 'cause they know best.

It's in our interest or so they say
Those power games they make us play.
Fight and kill in the Lord God's name
So who is guilty and who's to blame?

Be it opium, gold, diamonds or oil
There's been so much blood soaked into the soil
And brain washed minds now rotten to the core,
So how can mankind take much more?

It's time to forgive, but do we forget
Or forever live in the shadow of threat?
So Mother, Father, Sister and Brother
Live now in peace and love one another.

David. 

 

Visit ann arky's home at https://spiritofrevolt.info      

Caged.

 

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

                                            Image courtesy of Brtiannica.

             Do you "stand on the grave of dreams" long for "Things unknown but longed for still" Do you sing of freedom and a desire to break free from your cage of conventions?
            We all have that burning desire to be free, yet most accept to be caged in the strict confines and dictates of a human devised system of greed and selfishness, shackled to the confines of the financial markets and the parasite class that owns it and controls it to their own advantage. Why?
          That cage can be broken, its bars torn asunder, and that better world for all created. It is up to us, our solidarity and determination to be free to come together in communities and workplaces and take control of our lives and the society in which we live. We are the creators of all the riches of this world, we can and should take control of all those riches to see to the needs of all our people. Let's break that cage of conventions, grasp our freedom and create that better world for all. We owe it to our children and our grandchildren. 

 

Visit ann arky's home at https://spiritofrevolt.info    

Thoughts.

  Thoughts.

Image courtesy of Do Something

WAKE-UP CALL.

As the West grows fat
the Third World squirms and dies,
poverty devours their tomorrows
while the West swims in a sea of lies.
Look,   see their lacerated lives,
their pot bellies and spindle limbs
with hands stretching out towards you?
They’re not begging,
they’ve earned the right to demand.
Their poverty has kept us fat and warm
as we shaded our eyes from the light of reality,
well,    now they’re demanding.
Demanding we wake from our soft slumber
see their suffering,   grasp their hand,
 pull them from the blood sucking morass of poverty
inflicted on them by our sightless greed.
Our blindness stole their dad’s bowl of rice
our lassitude slew their brother
our flights of fashion starved their sister
our arrogance maimed their mother.

Image courtesy of Quora

 

FIRES OF THE FUTURE.

I am fire,
I surge, I hiss,
sometimes bursting forth in a flame
that lights up the world
illuminating unimagined dreams.
Then the black cloak
blankets out the glow.
Again all is dark,
but, still


beneath the surface
I surge, I hiss,
I endure, waiting, seeking,
building up pressure.
One day I will explode
destroying forever
the Tartarean crust of oppression.
I am fire,
I am the people. 

Visit ann arky's home at https://spiritofrevolt.info  

Personal

                                

              Continuing the theme of poetry and personal thoughts, a couple more personal views.

Image courtesy of Design You Trust.

 

Who Am I. 

Who am I
This son of a waitress
son of a miner
statistic from a Glasgow slum
digit in a National Health Service
walking in a fog
endeavouring to separate heaven from hell
reaching out to hands that aren’t there
sailing in the wrecked hull of hope
seeking a safe harbour
a soft beach to land
trying to forget yesterday
hoping too fashion tomorrow
who am I
I am a camera with ears
seeking a voice
wanting to be heard
in this tower of Babel

Image courtesy of Independent
 

Compassion.

Sometimes our strength breaks
not because of the burdens in our life
but because of our compassion
As year in year out we bear witness
to the savage claws of poverty
rip into the hearts of a legion of children
watch our green Earth stained red
with the blood of innocents in endless wars
standing silently by an see the young and old
die slowly from avoidable disease
and tragedy of human created disasters
compassion a necessary component
of that better world we all crave
but a crushing burden in this world
fashioned by greed power and privilege.

 

Visit ann arky's home at https://spiritofrevolt.info 

Poetry.

    

           March 21st, International Poetry day, as usual I missed it by a day. Never the less I think I should still celebrate that day, better late than never.

Image courtesy of Lithub.

Tinsel Cities.

In the city of tinsel and bright lights
midst the playthings of the rich
just beyond the champagne bubble
out of earshot of the butterfly people
in the dark shadows where no one looks
there you’ll find poverty and destitution
dance a macabre dance of survival.
In Mammon’s city of grand illusions
where rivers of wealth feed frivolity
in its twisting dark and musty lanes
where the light of hope seldom shines
an army of the living dead sweat and toil
polishing the tinsel, changing light bulbs
refilling the champagne bottles
nothing must stop the flow of frivolity
or the butterfly people will die.

Image courtesy of LSE Blog.

The Invisible.        

We live there— yes— there
A little bit above the dead
But quite a bit below the living
Where poverty is a dream
Deprivation a reality
Our daily bread an illusion
We sigh--we weep—
As ruthless poverty
With its cold claws
Tears the heart from our children
We ask—WHY?
Surrounded by opulence
Invisible to arrogant greed
Anger simmers beneath the surface
We seek equality
We will have justice
If blood is the price
So be it.

 

Visit ann arky's home at https://spiritofrevolt.info