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   

Let's Embrace The Poets.

      Poetry is a wonderful means of communicating, ideas, feelings and events, past and present or painting a picture of a possible future. It is that halfway zone between singing and talking, it also has the power to convey any of these things in a handful of verses, where as a book could take several chapters and hundreds of pages. It is also a carrier of our history. Let's embrace the poets, the dreamers, the Utopians. 
This week Circled A Radio interviews poet Tim Wells.

      Poet Tim Wells is the founding editor of the poetry magazine 'Rising'. He has performed his work widely and has worked as guest poet on Radio London and with 'Tighten Up', the East London reggae sound system. His books include Keep the Faith, Rougher Yet, and Boys' Night Out in the Afternoon, which was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection. We talk about Anti Fascism, the gentrification of London, the art of spoken word, the working class and the influence of ska music on British culture as it emerged. 

Listen HERE:

 

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

The Riot.

The Riot.

 

Surrounded by unaffordable commodities,

offered illusion as reality,

 pushed to pursue the latest

worthless fashion fetish

the individual walks in anger;

trapped by perfect symbols

of a corrupt capitalist system,

everything for sale,

anything can be bought,

including human dignity.

 

Haunted by the spectre of counter attack

by the many, by the dispossessed,

the power brokers of the system, push

for social controls that leave us 

powerless to express our desire

to be alive,

they struggle with stealth and raw power

to silence the cries of the excluded;

their success will last

as long as the many fear

the power, freedom has to offer. 

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

 

I'm Sick.

       April 23rd. another day another poem, another one from the 80's but times haven't changed that much have they?

I'm Sick.

I'm sick of missing the theatre

when "The greatest show on earth",

arrives in town.

Sick of living through the winter

with the heating turned down.

I'm sick of seeing my kids

miss out on this and that.

Sick of living with dampness

in a run down council flat.

I'm sick of having beans on toast

every other day.

Sick of TV shows extolling

a healthy lifestyle way.

I'm sick of wearing the same old jacket

hail, rain, or shine.

Sick of being told

the problem's really mine.

I'm sick of being a statistic

in some ministerial debate.

Sick of quietly letting

them decide my fate.

I'm sick of being offered work

if I accept a lower wage.

Sick of trying to control

this bubbling pent-up rage.

I'm sick ------------

I'm not,   really sick,

though I soon will be,

I'm just obliged to live

on benefit.

ann arky's home.

 

 

So, Is This The Bottom Line?

      I don't write in the vernacular, but admire those who can. Away, way, way back in the good ol' days of the 1980's I did have a stab at trying to write a poem in that wonderful rich Glasgow vernacular. So poem for the day is that effort from the Thatcher era, Though it was written all those years ago, it kind of shows that nothing has really changed. They're still screwing us stupid, and we are still struggling to survive and they're still scapegoating the poor, unemployed, disabled and vulnerable.

Where's the Bottom Line?

Aw fuck me,   the giro's done,

the bloody heatin's aff, nae milk, nae breed

two totties an'an egg,

is this the bottom line?

Three years unemployed

his crushed ma self-esteem.

Yi' see,

am th'wrang age, or I've got th' wrang skills,

well,   that's the usual theme.

So,    I've threw in the towel

a don't even try,

wi' younger men than we

stawnin' in the queue,

am oot,    sine die.

Wi nae money in yir pocket

there's nuthin' yi can dae

except stawn it the windi'

watchin the weans it play.

Noo the wife's buggard aff,

says she's hid enough.

Says am never oot o'bed

a never try a leg. Bit,

wi a job an' a good wife

a wis jist like a young pup.

Then some bastard shut the factory,

noo ma life's aw fuck'd-up.

Right noo, a need a jar ur two

tae kill ma screami' heid,

there's nuthin' left tae pawn

so wit is it, beg ur thieve,

is this the bottom line?

Meanwhile,  the cabinet all agree,

dependency culture is rife,

something must be done

to stamp out this lazy life,

now,    this is the bottom line.

ann arky's home.

Enemy of God And Foe of Kings.

      Today's poem was written by one of Glasgow's best known anarchists, Guy Aldred. A man who dedicated his entire life, selflessly to the struggle of the ordinary people, a man who died with 2 shillings in his pocket. A conscientious objector, he served many years in prison. A prolific writer on a myriad of subjects, this poem was written on the eve of his first Court Martial at Fovant in 1916.

 from, A Meditation.

To the destiny of man

to the instinct of my own nature

to the martyred spirit of all dead pioneers

let me pray.

Let me commune for health & strength & endurance

in captivity

Let me pray for zeal of spirit & power of faith.

Let me pray for intellectual vision & fervour of passion.

Let all vulgarity slip from me & the word, the spirit

of truth, become incarnate in me.

Let me never deny the truth either in word or spirit.

Let me work for the overthrow of scoffers in high places,

for the destruction of scoffing.

Let me become a prophet against scepticism

of worldly piety and social unbelief.

Let me become a son of man

the enemy of God the foe of kings

the destroyer of ritual, ceremony & all useless form.

Let truth & truth alone be my mistress

and may I bring witness to her integrity

from all lands & climes.

May no worldly ambition

no temptation in this wilderness of understanding

lead me to serve the enemy of man,

the principle of power and domination.

                                                GUY ALDRED.

ann arky's home.

Let's Make That Stand.

       Today's poem is with the previous post in mind. It was written a considerable number of years ago, so please forgive the couple of lines that could be claimed as sexist, but I'm sure you'll agree with the essence of the poem.

LET’S MAKE THAT STAND.

Come rise with me

here, take my hand

it’s time my brothers

to make that stand,

we’ve bought this world

with blood and tears

shed by our kin

through countless years.

Put an end to war

it’s time for peace

man killing man

has to cease.

No more poverty

in a sea of wealth

all men equal

in a new commonwealth.

Let’s never again kneel

let’s stand up tall

claim what’s ours

justice for all.

ann arky's home.

There Will Come A time.

      Today's poem, is, I think, in keeping with the previous post. I'm sure there will come a time, my only hope is that it is soon.

THERE WILL COME A TIME.

There will come a time when the hordes remember,

who bound our grand-parents to the yoke of oppression,

who sentenced our parents to deprivation,

who bid poverty sink its teeth into our heart,

who teach our children, greed is a noble art.

Who sent our sons through the gates of hell

to a litany of cambist brawls,

crammed coffers with blood-stained gold

while laughing in Ares' halls.

"Who does these terrible things to us?" they will ask,

and when they remember,

they'll bring an energy that is endless

to drive a fist that is fearless.

Then this merciless market-driven world will crumble

under an insurrection of integrity,

the poor will emerge from the dark husk of capitalism

to live in the light of social justice.

There will come a time when the hordes remember.

ann arky's home,