Starving Britain

John Pilger did this documentary about the deep poverty in England in 1975 yet it sounds eerily like today.

We have a zombie government , no essential leader Boris immersed in his own world and Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss are bickering about who can be the the most extreme right wing , it is bleak the Unions are striking and their leaders are speaking the most common sense , fuel poverty, food poverty , financial poverty there is no respite or chance due to eroding human rights to protest our way to government change , September 5th will bring no joy only more of the same and worse.

Him- Lorna Kirk

Him – Lorna Kirk

fierce candles

winters thorns bury deep
flesh pierced by that uneased dark
until candles dripping pale
tore aside the emptiness
illuminating dust
and a heart enclosed deep beneath a breast
her warmth reflected in those eyes,
he would embrace,
beyond all walls a snowy temper raged
sweeping alongside doors
muffling all that was brutal,
in hold and secure
dawn was a long way off
a thousand years would pass
before a few magic smitten would know
stars would die
and planets turn
winding in secrets so human,
lips tremble withholding so many words
that he would say
and she would reply
as a chosen wonder,
that urge carnal became a vapor
glimmer of hope,
and futures peace at stake,
memory fickle put upon pages
of a shameless scrawl
edited by many kings
dissolved into legend and myth
springs reaction would reveal much,
embrace over
fragile reflections and shadows
for the movement so vividly intact
would leave so many
damaged echoes
that conflict is inevitable

http://dversepoets.com/

decline of our morning consumption

The media we look to them for our news , incisive articles and the best our arts have to offer, well NO it is changing and two things fueled this piece one the Chicago Sun Times says it is doing away with book reviews  http://goodereader.com/blog/electronic-readers/do-we-really-need-book-reviews/ and on the BBC Morning show recently they interviewed the rapper Dizzee Rascal and one question he was asked referred to the intrusion of journalists in his life, his response was that they have to as they are part of the entertainment culture since when have journalists been entertainers is media falling into one big trap of celebrity and gossip , it will no longer have relevance already i see celebrity pregnancies reported before news articles they have slipped down the chain , international news dwindles i guess our social networks are now filling the gap, people journalism blogs and dedicated sites , i have to admit i do enjoy picking up a newspaper but by the time you have eradicated adverts, celebrity and gossip what is left and on tv analyze what you see, it is slipping us by. Another response to Dizzee would be seeing journalists on Survivor and other reality tv , journalists are not entertainers or celebrities they report our society as it is ,they give us the information we maybe cannot find orselves.

One scenario a country with a troubled government , the population will know more of Jessica Simpsons pregnancy and the latest nipple slip than who is governing and  this is dangerous we still need to be informed knowledge is an asset not a luxury let some sensibility return

Alexander Rodchenko- War of The Future (1930)

 

Alexander Rodchenko magazine illustration War Of The Future (Voina budeshchego) a constructivism montage this had a documentary feel stating chemical warfare fall and collapse as seen by his analytical mind which also looked at conflict as a whole

Infinite Reaches

a blade ground in salt

could not excise,

the growth of pain felt

swollen sea consumed dunes

natural barrier evasive

in it’s collapse

grass spikes protect,

she had been there

falling to the white edge,

now soaked

clutching at her stomach

that pouch beneath

with life partially formed

his sperm connective

by movement,

a moment taken

a decisive act

that had a consequence

now she wanted it away

wanting the sea to enter her

as it would a caves lagoon

swirl and wash debris away,

that was at first

now struggled away from

tidal grip,

hair a black concealment

falling over face wet

so her lips found salt,

beneath the raucous gulls

her imagined cell phone rang,

he would be there

the other not,

complex tissue entwined

by emotional forces,

it would remain inside her

till that time to emerge

to suckle on darkened nipple,

stretch marks illustrate

the act of betrayal

a map of satisfaction

that went further

together borne out of this,

cold prickled

her skin blotching red

shoes lost

slipped silent over sand

to a pavement lot,

car doors still open

once a water grave marker

now transport to a home

that would smell different

 

In Conclusion

does trust come from the sky

or is born in the infancy of fire

bathe in it’s shadow

and let it linger in the eye,

no incident can let it go,

dry coughs

awkward glances,

a long thread no more subtle

than saliva from a bottleneck,

to plume of exhausted breath,

open words

sore like wounds deepen,

as if caught on the ocean’s

roughest coral,

intimacy rare no longer needed,

raw pauses

neglected opening of the mouth

silence fell,

a ball of anger now the abandoned

toy in the corner,

term of arrangement sorted

it could go to court

or be sorted now,

with looks , voices and reaching

fingertips,

solving this was hard,

dissolving would be harder

 

Merry Christmas

 

Merry Christmas to all my friends and blog followers thank you for all your comments and support i really appreciate all of you and if you read this in passing on a blog voyage you are always welcome love to all , all the best and enjoy

Mother Mediates

a scream a real pain scream

what is it

he hit me and took my car away

he is your brother

but he stole it

you live under the same roof

he cannot steal

but it is mine

why not share

not with him he is ugly

he is the same flesh and blood

but i hate him

hate is a strong word

i don’t love him

that is cruel

remember when he helped you

when you where afraid of the dark

i still hate him

he annoys you that is all

and you respond

we love each other in this house

dry those eyes

come here give back the car

sorry mum

don’t apologize to me

apologize to him

sorry

say it properly and give him a hug

sorry

that is better

friends now

i think so

 

it can be this simple

 

 

 

To The Unborn

look over shoulder

see clay bed made,

fate spoke over bloody fray,

wheat will not touch fingertips,

sun of the morning will not reach,

your name your country’s

belong flesh and bone

consummate to government,

and all who reside,

sink to ground

embrace the last love

that elevates beyond pain,

in conflict terms the dead

do not remain,

return flag draped

assured of the path

that righteousness has shown,

all that seems dark

will be the light,

it’s not falling in vain

if the steadfast parliament,

listen and keep the next

generation safe