Wars.

          The following poem was taken from Direct Action summer 1999, author unknown. It refers to different war, in another time, but war is war, no matter the time or the nation, it is the innocent that suffer, and the perpetrators, though they never pull a trigger nor shed any of their blood, are the ones who gain. When will we ever learn.

Image courtesy of Institute of Policy Studies.

All In The Name Of democracy.

From the height of 60,000 feet
you can't see the bombs hit the street
can't see the terror in their eyes
as death rains down from the skies
can't hear the shrieks and groans
as we burn their flesh and mangle bones
Milosoviv and his cronies safe below
deep in shelters where our bombs can't go.
We punish the people on the ground
Leaving devastation all around
you feel the excitement and the thrill
when "our" government says "go out and kill".
But when alone, I think " how insane
the Serbian people are not to blame
it's the politicians again - as before
and they never fight the bloody wars.
One day maybe we'll get it right
when workers of all nations refuse to fight
when all races, brothers and sisters can be
joined in human solidarity.

 

                                           Image courtesy of Stimson.org

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

Shirkers!

 

        For our “Read of the Month”  February 2023, Spirit of Revolt brings you a magazine from May 1992, Armchair No.2, Shirkers of the World Unite. It is from our KM collection, T SOR 3-56-61. Well worth a wee read, articles and cartoons aimed at the duplicity of the capitalist system. While on the site why not have a browse through our multitude of  papers, magazines, pamphlets, letters, photos, poetry, banners and other memorabilia,  all part of Glasgow Clydeside, and further afield, anarchist and libertarian socialist history and the struggles of the ordinary people for that better world for all. Probably the largest anarchist archive in Scotland.

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

Why Not?

  Well, why not?

Why Not?

I see hungry children crying beside warehouses of food

I see the elderly cold hungry alone in an ocean of plenty

I feel anger when caskets draped in that coloured rag

carried home with military pomp weeping families

another causality of greed privilege power

Day and daily I see greed praised as success

rich as celebrities poor as failures

I swim in a sea of fabricated illusions where privilege is progress

where truth dies a lonely death somewhere in a corner of our heart

Yet within my heart I have millions of seeds of love

I know I must plant and let grow

So why shouldn’t I be an anarchist?

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

Quiet.

           Though we have millions of people who take their anger on to the streets and show it in other very visible means, direct action etc., we should not forget that quiet multitude. Their silence does not equate with acceptance of this unjust capitalist system. They are aware that their lives are not what they could be, they are aware of the inequality. These are the people we have to convince that we can build a better world for all, without that quiet majority we are going nowhere. They want a better world, we have to raise their anger, so that they will join us on the streets, in strikes, in solidarity with all those in open struggle against this festering greed driven capitalist system. 

                                             Image courtesy of Kids Creative Chaos.

Another wee gem of a poem from the Chinese poet Xu Lizhi.

"Conflict"

They all say
I'm a child of few words
This I don't deny
But actually
Whether I speak or not
With this society I'll still
Conflict

 

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Power.

     

                                                                                                                                        

                                       Image courtesy of 38 Degrees.                                                                                                                                                                                                  With the savage attack on our living standards by the wealthy parasite class and workers striking to defend the living standards of all ordinary people, we would do well to remember, we hold all the power, all we have to do is use it to bring down this festering greed driven system of capitalism. 

We Have The Power.

Empty streets,with empty shops,
queues forming at the job centre,
doorway beds and hungry children,
watched over by mean eyed cops,
foodbanks growing by the hour.
City razzle-dazzle just rusty remnants,
shopping malls now empty caverns,
home to starlings, pigeons, magpies,
zero hours, part-time workers live in,
homes where ambition fails to flower.
Shiny politicians peddling illusions,
grin and bear it, there’s pie in the sky,
follow the Messiah, he’ll get you there,
quietly swallow their empty promises,
so they can live in their ivory towers.
This world exists by our acceptance,
blindly following their biased rulebook,
failing to realise that we the people,
builders of the world by sweat and pain,
are the ones who really hold the power. 

 

         Bearing in mind what this savage attack on our living standards is doing to the health and well being of our kids and elderly, we must be prepared to bring about justice and fairness by any means possible. We owe that much to the next generation. We can stop them laughing at us by acting on our righteous anger.

Image courtesy of Real Movement.

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   

Emotions.

          I love poetry, some more than others, there can be so much emotion encapsulated in a few lines, a vid picture can appear in a verse. I find Xu Lizhi's poems very moving. "I Fall Asleep, Just Standing Like That" is a poem that I'm sure those who work at boring repetitive jobs can identify with the words and emotions.
        Xu Lizhi a young Chinese poet who took his own life on 30 September 2014, at the age of 24, in Shenzhen, China.

"I Fall Asleep, Just Standing Like That"


The paper before my eyes fades yellow
With a steel pen I chisel on it uneven black
Full of working words
Workshop, assembly line, machine, work card, overtime, wages...
They've trained me to become docile
Don't know how to shout or rebel
How to complain or denounce
Only how to silently suffer exhaustion
When I first set foot in this place
I hoped only for that grey pay slip on the tenth of each month
To grant me some belated solace
For this I had to grind away my corners, grind away my words
Refuse to skip work, refuse sick leave, refuse leave for private reasons
Refuse to be late, refuse to leave early
By the assembly line I stood straight like iron, hands like flight,
How many days, how many nights
Did I - just like that - standing fall asleep?

-- 20 August 2011

 

Shy, quiet, introverted, solitary

In 2010, Xu Lizhi went [from his home in rural Jieyang, Guangdong] to work at [a] Foxconn [electronics factory in Shenzhen], beginning life on the assembly line. From 2012 until February of this year [2014], over 30 of his writings were published in Foxconn’s internal newspaper Foxconn People (富士康人), including poems, essays, film reviews, and news commentaries {…} Xu posted the titles of these writings on his blog in a post called “The Maturation Given to Me by a Newspaper,” indicating his gratitude for this platform for his literary aspirations. The first time his friend Zheng (pseudonym) read Xu’s poetry, he was astonished to discover that this young man could be so talented. Henceforth, Zheng always looked for Xu’s writings in the newspaper.
           Zheng’s impression was that Xu was a shy boy, “of few words, but not silent.” “Xu asserted his convictions, but he seemed quite solitary – very much the air of a poet.” When Zheng heard of Xu’s suicide, his entire [week-long] break for [China’s] National Day was shrouded in grief. He could not go outside for days.

          Turning feelings into poems; fearing they be read by family

          Most of Xu’s early poems were descriptions of life on the assembly line. In “Workshop, My Youth Was Stranded Here,” he described his conditions at the time: “Beside the assembly line, tens of thousands of workers [dagongzhe]1 line up like words on a page/ 'Faster, hurry up!'/ Standing among them, I hear the supervisor bark.” He felt that “Once you’ve entered the workshop/ The only choice is submission,” and that his youth was coldly slipping away, so he could only “Watch it being ground away day and night/ Pressed, polished, molded/ Into a few measly bills, so-called wages.”

Readthe full article HERE.

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

masses.

                                           Image courtesy of We Are In The Crowd.

      Listening to the venom spewing from the mouths of our lords and masters that frequent The Westminster Houses of Hypocrisy and Corruption, at those on strike for a decent life, such as holding the country to ransom, playing into Putin's hands. We should perhaps remind them of the irrefutable truth. Those on strike and all other workers built this world by sweat and blood, theirs and the forbearers. It's time we took it back.

image courtesy of The Manchester Evening News.

 

 WE THE LABOURING MASSES.

We the people have, every brick laid,
have fed the world with sweat and spade,
every instrument played in every band
created by the skill of the craftsman's hand.
We made every truck and every load,
our toil our effort every winding road,
every ship that ever sailed the sea,
our power our imagination made it be.
Cities and towns large and small,
our labouring hands fashioned them all,
every home, every spire,
luxury mansion or humble byre.
No matter what dreams the mind might spawn
without labour's hand, never see the light of dawn,
without labour's strength and labour's skill,
we would be foraging beasts in a jungle still. 

Image courtesy of The Guardian. 

 

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

Rising??

  Food for thought as we face a winter of cold and hunger, midst abundant wealth.

 “Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerors
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture...
Pity the nation oh pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away...”- 

 Lawrence Ferlinghetti, poet

 

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

Victory.

 

          I often loose my self in poetry, that wonderful world of expression, somewhere between singing and conversation. A place to let your thoughts run wild, say what your heart feels. Today October the 6th is National Poetry Day, the theme is the environment, so I thought I would say my tuppence worth.

Victory.

Nature recoiled from the savage beast
A beast so fierce on its warhorse of progress
Sweeping aside all that was natural and beautiful
This blind beast conquered meadow and stream
Banished the fish from the seas
Left a trail of barren concrete and tarmac
Filled the air with odious gases
Eventually the beast conquered the Earth
Now master of a dead planet
A world that nature, maimed and bleeding
finally abandoned, to allow the beast to slowly die.

 

Image courtesy of Envirotec.

 

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

Patriotism!

            I couldn’t escape some of the media’s deluge of patriotic nonsense at the loss of one of their imperial figureheads. What shocked me most about this outpouring was a clip on TV of young woman crying because the Queen had died. This young woman of what looked like ordinary working class family, crying at the death of a woman who lived in a world of obscene opulence, so divorced for her own working class standards, she would be unable to comprehend that lavish privileged world, a women she in all probability had never met, but somehow swallowed the patriotic fabricated rubbish that surrounds that whole family and missing what they stand for, privilege, wealth and power. Monarchy is an anathema to democracy and yet vast numbers of ordinary people fall for the illusion that they, the royal family are part and parcel of life with us. The peasant and the lord are never partners, the wealth power and privileges of the lord divides and creates a wall where the peasant must know their place, and it is not in the same big happy family. Patriotism is the narcotic used to dumb the minds of the population, create that illusion that we are all one big happy family, special, different from others, better.

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 https://spiritofrevolt.info   

Victory.

 A thought for the day;

Victory.

Nature recoiled from the savage beast
A beast so fierce on its war horse of progress
Sweeping aside all the was natural and beautiful
This blind beast conquered meadow and stream
Banished the fish from the seas
Left a trail of barren concrete and tarmac
Filled the air with odious gases
Eventually the beast conquered the earth
Now master of a dead and lifeless planet
A world that nature, maimed and bleeding
Finally abandons to allow the beast to slowly die.

 

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

Poems.

           Perhaps it is a time for a wee poem or two, to say the thoughts that clamber and crash their way through the labyrinth of my mind. 

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.

 

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. 

 

 Mirror Mirror On The Wall.

I can’t help but watch him
that old man
as he staggers across the room
with that unusual gait
punctuated by the odd stumble
I hear his groans and feel his pain
sometimes with a few profane words
he drags himself from the couch or chair
pauses for a moment to regain his balance
I sense his reluctance to bend down
and pick things off the floor
I’m fascinated by those hands
light brown withered looking bony structures
with their pronounced veins
running along the back of them
and up his slim arms
I sense his annoyance
that they’re not as strong as they used to be
I feel his regret
that he can’t do the things he once did with ease
I often think
that to have lived that long
he must have a chest full
of memories and experiences
that should be worth something
but what puzzles me most
is when
I look in the mirror
I see him and not me.

 

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

Together.

 

            The world needs to change if we are to survive as a species, of course to change the world on your own is an impossible task. However, together in co-operation there is no limit to the change we can bring about, by coming together in a common cause we can work miracles and bring about unimaginable change that as individuals we could only have held as dreams. Solidarity, co-operation and common cause can change the world to that better world of which we all dream.

The following video is taken from Not Buying Anything:

```````````````````````````````````````

Let's Roar.

The problems too big
the perpetrators unknown
you can't beat the system
all on your own.
So it's easy to withdraw
find your own little cage
turn a blind eye to the suffering
stifle your rage,
but the greed goes on
the poverty's still there,
you can't just leave it
for your children to bear.
Others feel as you do
eager to put things right
but locked in isolation
it's a hopeless fight,
so don't sit in silence
behind a closed door,
your voice can help raise
a whisper to a roar. 

 

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

Borders.

            From an early age the state and its propaganda section, attempt to get you to love that little patch of land that they have with force claimed and built an imaginary wall around, it's called a border. They need you to support them against some other state who might wish to shift the border in favour of their own, power, interests and control. You are trained to love this little patch of land of which you own none, you are trained to love the history of those who claimed this land as theirs and set up those invisible walls called borders. You are meant to have an unstinting love for its flag and its leaders, and patriotism is the poison they use to attempt to intoxicate you into a state of being prepared to give your life for their purloined piece of the planet. These borders are sacred to the powers that be and encourage a dislike and distrust of those on the other side. Trying to cross these borders can cost you your life, you can be herded like cattle in detention centres, classified as an "alien" devoid of any rights. Humanity demands that we bring these imaginary walls crashing down, there is only one race, the human race and we are all part of that race and live on the one planet which belongs to no one, or belongs to us all. Borders are weapons to protect the rich, privileged and powerful, and attempt to create differences between the various groups of people trapped within their boundaries. Freedom and democracy means no borders, and freedom of movement.

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 from Enough is Enough:

           This summer we will organize a No Border Camp, somewhere* in the Netherlands.

Originally published by Indymedia NL.

This summer we will organize a No Border Camp, somewhere* in the Netherlands. A week of actions, networking, meetings and discussions about all aspects of repressive migration policies – detention of refugees, racist border controls, deportations, militarization of borders, exploitation of migrant workers, etc. – and the connections with other areas of struggle, such as climate, anti-racism and anti-militarism. The international Abolish Frontex campaign is an important spearhead for the camp.
In the No Border Camp we want to bring the undocumented and the documented together. During the camp, interesting workshops are held and we discuss how we can all take a stand and organize resistance against the harsh Dutch and European migration policies.

Note the dates in your agenda; further info will follow.

Ideas for workshops or actions? Can you help organize this? Mail us: nbc-2022@riseup.net.

* location to be announced shortly before the start.

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

Our World.

                                                  

                                                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.

         Everybody knows that the ordinary people are facing a crushing blow to their standard of living. The media and the various state mouthpieces keep telling us that this is a crisis and we are all in it together. Of course this is utter bullshit, yes it is a crisis, but a crisis of capitalism, created by capitalism. However the cost of this crisis is being passed onto the backs of the ordinary people. The crisis is simple a squabble between the various power blocks that control the world's resources as they each try to expand or defend their grip on their slice of the ever diminishing planet's resources. This bloody squabble is going to create shortages and to maintain their profits, the various corporate juggernauts are simply passing that extra cost on to the ordinary people. We will suffer while the billionaire parasite class continue in their plundering and pillaging of the Earth's resources and fattening their ever growing bank accounts. Increased prices does not equate with increased cost of production, This parasite's squabble creates shortages, but instead of decrease in income, they simple put the price up to protect their sacred god, "profit".
         We, the ordinary people of the world are being forced to pay for this inherent malaise in the capitalist system, the need for ever increasing profits. We will pay for it in the privatisation of our public assets, the closing of amenities, failing health services, crumbling education system, and of course the stratospheric rise in prices for the every day necessities of life.

                                                 Image courtesy of The Herald.

           We can accept this crushing burden and allow the system to try to sort itself out by means of wars and ever increasing austerity for the majority and greater wealth, power and privileges for the few. We can knuckle under and play the role of the subservient humble citizen and pass a heritage of poverty and submissiveness onto the next generation. Or we can stand up and take what we have earned and that is everything ever made on this planet. we created it all, the wealth and the necessities, by our sweat, blood and tears. We do not owe the corporate parasites anything. Our response must be anger, anger that spills over onto the streets, the parasites will not give up their privileged positions of power and wealth without a fierce struggle. There is no alternative, it is our world, or it is their world, there can be no compromise. We are, at this moment in time, living with their compromises, poverty and hardship for the majority, privileges, power and wealth for the few. 

 WE THE LABOURING MASSES.

 We the people have, every brick laid,
have fed the world with sweat and spade,
every instrument played in every band
created by the skill of the craftsman's hand.
We made every truck and every load,
our toil our effort every winding road,
every ship that ever sailed the sea,
our power our imagination made it be.
Cities and towns large and small,
our labouring hands fashioned them all,
every home, every spire,
luxury mansion or humble byre.
No matter what dreams the mind might spawn
without labour's hand, never see the light of dawn,
without labour's strength and labour's skill,
we would be foraging beasts in a jungle still.

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

WW3.

          Just to clarify my position, I’ll start by saying, this piece in no way, manner, shape or form, supports the Russian invasion of Ukraine. However, events are not happenings that just pop up out of nowhere, they are usually points on a chain of events.
        Let’s go back to WW2 and remind ourselves of the fact that is seldom admitted to in the West, Russia won the second world war. Russia managed to push the Nazi military machine more or less from Moscow to Berlin in less time that it took the allies to push them from Calais to Berlin. At the final stages of the war, the Americans realised that the Russians would reach Berlin before they did and could therefore lay claim to the capital. So the Americans sent a dispatch rider with the American flag to Berlin ahead of their forces so that he could plant the flag in Berlin and claim that they had also reach Berlin. Hence the split of the capital into East Berlin and West Berlin.
        From that day forward, America saw Russia as a threat to its global power, and labelled Russia as an enemy.
        Since then it has done everything in its power to weaken Russia, destroy its economy and remove it from being a threat to American hegemony, It has applied various sanction, and moved its military might ever closer to the Russian border in the form of its puppet organisation NATO. Everybody knows, push a tiger into a corner and it will pounce. Russia pounced and Ukraine is where the blood is shed.
 

 

       Call it what you will, but world war 3 is in progress and the American imperialism is winning and most of the public seem to think this is a good thing. What fails to register on the public consciousness is the fact that America has invaded more countries than any other nation on the planet. America has attempted to destroy more countries economies by sanctions and threat of force than any other country on the planet. America is an imperialist nation that has imprisoned a far great proportion of it own citizens that any other country on the planet. Every analysis of the American prison system comes up with the same result, it is nothing less than a cheap slave labour institution which makes billions of dollars for the corporate world.
        American imperialism is achieving what it has always wanted, the destruction of the Russian economy and it is succeeding with the co-operation and blessing of most Western countries. It can now turn its attention to its next rival for world domination, China. America has already surrounded China with a ring of fire in the form of missile bases, see John Pilger’s Coming War on China,
         American imperialism will go to any lengths to destroy any power group or country that should dare to challenge its hegemony. It will sacrifice populations in bloody wars, it will starve the population by means of sanctions, to maintain its dominant position on the planet. Not for the benefit of the people, but for the enrichment of the corporate world of billionaires and the protection of their wealth, power and privileges.
         Peace will only come when we get rid of nation states, national borders and see the world as one village where we all benefit from co-operation and mutual aid, freed from higher authorities and the profit motive. Our obedience to their rules and propaganda, to their flag honouring and the poison of patriotism is the foundation of their success.

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 https://spiritofrevolt.info