When I was a child my parents, and their parents had suffered through a Great Depression and two world wars. My father was in the airforce. He flew every kind of aircraft from spitfires and hurricanes to old tiger moths. We grew up in the remnants of bombed buildings. We roamed the beach finding unexploded bombs and bullets. We helped the infirm and the war weary, old before their time. My mother counselled us to embrace peace and tolerance. But sometimes we must fight. Even at the risk of our freedoms.
Today the world is at a tipping point. The United States of America is unwittingly embracing fascism, and we must fight for the freedom of expression. The US President has now banned the major news agencies from covering his press conferences! If a press conference cannot be reported on by major news agencies, then we leave the commentary to those who are of one opinion only. That of the President. This is no longer democracy. It is dictatorship. It is the rebirth of fascism.
In the new rules on temporary entry to the United States it will be required (optional at the moment) to give your social media status so that your data can be mined to find out if you have any anti-US attributes. I do not. I have anti US President attributes. Trump has become the fascist that we were always warned about.
My mother taught us tolerance, and warned us that we must create a world of harmony. It is hard, in these days to be cowed by the rhetoric of the President of the United States when he speaks about stealing the oil from other nations, about forcibly deporting ‘undocumented immigrants.’ Today I am speaking out. I WILL fight against the actions of a dictator regardless of their nationality, (including my own.).
In the sixties there was a revolution of sorts, and it has been forgotten or not known by many that there was a great uprising against war. This video of Jimi Hendrix and his “Star Spangled Banner,” is an amazing piece of commentary. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKvnQYFhGCc
Here is the full speech of Donald Trump’s rambling, incoherent CPAC speech. http://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2017/2/24/14726584/transcript-donald-trump-cpac-speech
Are these the words of a mad man? Or a man with a vision? If it is the words of a man with a vision, then his vision is of insanity and disaster.
This week the US government enacted a law which can take away all the property and possessions of any person who acts in protest. Even a peaceful protest. If you so much as carry a banner or, as they did in the sixties, put a flower down the barrel of a National Guardsman’s gun, you can lose everything you possess. Confiscated by a supposedly democratic government.
Millions now lose their health care (Obamacare). America is sadly a laughing stock. Sadly because it is anything but something to laugh about. The most dangerous man of the 21st Century is in the most powerful position on the planet. And he is raiding the coffers. Just watch the market rise! It’s good for the stock market. But remember the thirties, and what followed. I grew up in the remnants of that war. It is time for the courageous young to stand up, speak up, and defend every right we fought to give you!
Most developed countries are talking policies that use slogans relating to JOBS and WORK. They simply do not understand that within ten years few people will be employed or working. There will of course be more leisure time. Leisure time is useless if a man or woman has no money because technology is doing the work they would once have done. Google has a good idea. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-02-20/google-set-to-mine-australians-hacking-ranks-in-hiring-raid/8281054. The only jobs waiting for our youth will be to come to the aid of technology.
But how do all the millions of people who need to eat, have holidays, buy houses, and contribute to the wealth of corporations manage to buy anything? People are becoming obsolete at great speed.
Here is a thought. If you have no job you have no money. If you have no money you cannot spend it on goods. If you do not spend money on goods, the corporations who manufacture the said goods will not thrive. Quickly the world will go broke.
It is time to begin to talk about how we relate to money. How we will be paid in the future. Already writers like me can no longer make a living doing what we do. Journalists are no longer in much demand. News is collected via social media, a few staff journalists, and a great number of ‘citizen journalists’ who get paid in little more than a bask in the sun for a short while.
How on earth are we going to manage? Money has to be. Money is really only created the moment you spend it. If you don’t have adequate money to spend, you can’t create wealth, and wealth is held in enormous quantities by a very small percentage of the population . There has to be a limit point, a tipping point. I think it is coming sooner than later.
I was recently pleasantly surprised to get a lovely blurb for the print version of Eats and Treats from my friend and author Dora Bona . Being my best friend has nothing to do with the fact that she wrote the blurb. One thing she is not, is dishonest.
It has sometimes been a bit of a bug in our relationship going back now over 23 years, that we have spent so much time and effort trying to make each other better writers. Does anyone else have a living, breathing muse? When I write these days, she is always foremost in my mind. What would she say about this? What would she like/dislike about that? Why does she have such a necessity to rage about the apostrophe. Whatever, it make me a better writer and over the years I sincerely hope that I have extended her willingness to explore the dark that is inside all of us.
HERE IT IS: THE BOOK BLURB FOR EATS AND TREATS: CATERING FOR COUCH POTATOES.
There’s an old saying about truth being stranger than fiction and it often applies when there’s a really REALLY good story to be told. This one is true.
This is a story of endurance: a man stripped of all his considerable worldly possessions and driven to live on a remote mountain where he builds a home from logs and scrap metal. Sort of like Moses, only he’s not Jewish.
It’s a story of joy: he creates a simple, serene life, devoid of gadgets like a toilet, running water, electricity, human companionship or any form of communication with the outside world. He does however have two dogs. One is blue, and the other is very black. Both are his constant companions.
It’s a story of heartache: a man who epitomises the mantra of the 70’s, ‘make love not war’, yet whose life on the mountain becomes enmeshed in bitter battles for supremacy. Dominated by greed-driven conflicts with uninvited neighbours. And eventually culminating in a psychotic drug-fuelled attack on his life until his ultimate final reckoning.
It’s a story of pain: a man wracked with deep physical, emotional and mental pain. Not the transient sort – the lifelong, grinding, burrowing, relentless sort that has teeth sharper than Stephen King’s evil clown, Pennywise.
But more than anything, it’s a story of survival: a man clawing his way back into civilization, inch by inch, constantly shedding old burdens and taking on new ones, negotiating forks, bends and ditches in the road until finding trust again, and coming to rest in his own personal utopia.
I GAVE YOU.
And what did he give YOU?
I GAVE YOU.
When I was small I gave you
When I was bigger, I gave you
Later still, I gave you
In Love-Sick adolescence I gave you
Older still, I gave you
The chewing gum is gone
Only the promise remains intact.
When I wrote this in 2002 I could not have realised how things would turn out. But I was talking about the US military ferrying the heroin down the mountains. Something that has been well covered up now.
IT MIGHT AS WELL RAIN (BOMBS) UNTIL SEPTEMBER
Once more the heroin flows freely
down the mountains on muleback
and onward to our cities.
In Miami, and New York, and London
The Lords of the Needle rejoice.
lockers were blasted open
and their poison released.
400,000 now starve. No voice
have they. How could they beg
us not to slaughter their livestock,
their lives, with our billion dollar bombs?
20,000 graves of the innocent
200,000 grieving for their loss.
More millions of tears than can be counted,
And still the pretty cluster bombs
draw the eyes of little children
and rob them of their limbs.
And more… our vengeance is unbounded.
Another country, another suspect reason.
Tell me! Tell us all! Tell the Universe!
What is a Weapon of Mass Destruction?
Is it a heat seeking missile?
Is it a fighter plane loaded with bombs?
Is it a bullet tipped with depleted uranium?
Is it a man?
Is it me?
She wore a white nightdress, and bent
With her head on her hands
The old man, nailed to the wall.
Bullet nailed. The O
Of his mouth still ripe with surprise.
Whimpering, in that stark silence.
A chainsaw sound
Ripping a wound down his back.
“It’s alright” He said, stupid untruths
Ringing bells of grief.
Bodies, all gone, around him.
She was warm, and young, under his hand
On her shoulder
“It’s alright” He said again.
“I am a soldier. This is what I do.”
Rattled around like battle
In his blood-rushed ears.
He pushed, she moved and whimpered
Back against the wooden chair.
“It’s alright” He said again.
“It’s alright” He said again
“It’s alright!” He said again.
“It’s alright!” He shouted.
But the note on her chest said more.
It screamed. It roared!
“Her eyes are in the jar!”
This is not a poem. It’s a song I had in me, but as I’m not a musician, it’s a NAKED poem.
WAITING IN THE WINGS
Been writing you a love song
But when I found the courage
Well things are different baby
Your life was safe and so secure
Now you know just how it feels
Things can change so instantly…
She’s gone now babe – she’s left you
Waiting in the wings
The love song’s just been written