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.

Love Ukraine

2022 a pandemic is just loosening its grip and then another disease began , Russia under the looming presence of Putin , invaded Ukraine with brutal aggression a petulant psychopath wanting a reunited Soviet Union , well he can fuck off , I see on the news a beautiful people facing adversity with grace and fortitude and in my heart and prayers I think of them , and as I do I remembered there is a poem Love Ukraine by Volodymyr Sosyura that says so much and can fit for the here and now

Please offer aid to any organisation , the people of Ukraine need our love and support

Pitesti Experiment (film)

Victoria Baltag is a filmmaker from Romania, who I met on LinkedIn and she has a very unique and powerful story to tell, that is very unsettling about Romania between 1949 and 1951 and the re education camps, she is now raising money for the postproduction with which I hope you will help her succeed .

“ The state entities in Romania refused to fund this project”.

Victoria Baltag, Master of Arts, University of Birmingham, PhD Film Studies, Queen University of Belfast and Postgraduate Teaching Assistant at UCL made a remarkable movie about one of the darkest pages from Romanian History.
Pitesti Experiment.
Generations of Romanians did not learn about this subject at schools, colleges, Universities. Censorship and hiding the dark moments from history left many Romanians clueless about the history of their country.
Pitesti Experiment project needs support. Art in pandemic needs support. Our support.
Media exposure, funds, event organization, all are ways to support.
Every time this movie is promoted, every donation, every effort is a different manner to say“ I am sorry for how much you suffered”.
This project is about the victims of Pitesti Experiment. Victims who for many are unknown, forgotten.
Their story has to be told! Let’s help it!

more info here https://www.film-fest-report.com/home/victoria-baltag-interviewhttp://more info here https://www.film-fest-report.com/home/victoria-baltag-int

https://gofund.me/d00e45b3

https://www.thegenocideofthesouls.org/public/english/the-pitesti-experiment/

Have a look, have a read then give to what will be a harrowing yet amazing film

Queens New Clothes

a common girl

with barrow came

laden with folded cloth

the queen did look

and saw but nothing

yet advisors say

it is so beautiful

befitting for a millionaire

a common girl

seamstress sew perfect

said she could make

the most wonderful gown

a gown that those

on the other side

of palace walls

would admire and say

how radiant and divine

in chamber warmed

by embers of the poor

took this cloth

about her frame

and posed in mirror

that glittered gold

she did look divine

and decided on a procession

at the gates the dedicated few

who bought the mugs

and waved the flags

and sang anthem on

brainwashed breath

had heard of this

most wondourus gown

stepping from the carriage

the people

gasped in awe and horror

some began to cry

for this gown

the seamstress sewed

was of the flesh

of poor and subjugated

histories oppression an

awful stench

pinned together

with the bones of

crushed rebellion

the cheering stopped

more tears did flow

and a little boy

called out

she must go

Birago Diop – Diptych

The Sun hung by a thread
In the depths of the Calabash dyed indigo
Boils the great Pot of Day.
Fearful of the approach of the Daughters of fire
The Shadow squats at the feet of the faithful.
The savannah is bright and harsh
All is sharp, forms and colours.
But in the anguished Silences made by Rumours
Of tiny sounds, neither hollow nor shrill,
Rises a ponderous Mystery,
A Mystery muffled and formless
Which surrounds and terrifies us.
The dark Loincloth pierced with nails of fire
Spread out on the Earth covers the bed of Night.
Fearful at the approach of the Daughters of Shadow
The dog howls, the horse neighs,
The Man crouches deep in his house.
The savannah is dark,
All is black, forms and colours
And in the anguished Silences made by Rumours
Of tiny sounds infinite or hollow or sharp
The tangled Paths of the Mystery
Slowly reveal themselves
For those who set out
And for those who return.

What began in 79

when your home is not
a protective shelter to dignity and heart,
where government scythes away
public voices in favour of a few,
nervous rattle of doors
closing on opportunities
for those we should cherish,
disabled now disenfranchised
workless sanctioned and berated
for just existing,
statistics and targets
media fodder,
minimum wage hunter gatherers
chasing food bank trails
as rent arrears accumulate,
things are getting brighter
economy booming,
so some say
a cautious tale of cynicism
is needed to chew on this pill
of crushed realisations,
we have awoken
but not awake

written in response to the Conservatives taking victory in the elections and Cameron claiming power again

erection day

pricks modelled in clay
stout phalluses
to be glazed and painted
with words of policy,
many tongues will lick
thinking of some turbulent heart
that some powers will be given
in a seminal dream
like acid secreted
it burns,
those who believe
and have believed,
that we all can’t thrive
on stolen sleep
it is someone elses
pillow where early a.m
through a struggle of dream
we drool and wait expectantly,
overbaked clay shatters
prick pieces fall
wild men
brought to the fold
herded in clusters
by the rich vanity of the absolute,
it is an end
those birthed in soil
not in the womb of privilege
will take up the hope
and unfurl a phallus of flesh

203

home

mersey moonlight and shine
across the hills
to river dee,
wind whispers
in the trees and grass,
of park
and shipyard sinew,
bricks of sweat and toil,
urban sprawl,
where smugglers coins
fell to sand,
lighthouse flickers
seen by little eye,
sandstone tremors
and gentle veil of mist,
i feel home
cradled by the lake
and shivering masts
of a yachting few

Karen Lawrence Spikey Mouse Photography - Mersey Ferry          Karen Lawrence Spikey Mouse Photography - Looking at Wales through...  Karen Lawrence Spikey Mouse Photography - Liverpool Waterfront           Karen Lawrence Spikey Mouse Photography - Sailing on Marine Lake a...

Karen Lawrence Spikey Mouse Photography - Men of Crosby           Karen Lawrence Spikey Mouse Photography - Fort Perch Lighthouse...

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