Comes Samhain

Good Samhain to you all!


Comes the New Year
Soul at the unveiled
Threshold, honour
The eternal thread
That weaves
All space and time
In loop and line

Comes new tread
Bearing yesterday’s
Lessons as gifts
To wisdom’s forward
Shining light.

Comes fresh resolve
And sacrifice anew
Death is but a comma
For, by inward,
Inextinguishable Lamp
Is all creation born
Again and yet, again

Comes one contained
Within the other
Seed and fruit
Desire and form
In constant endings
And beginnings

Comes the turning
Raise the cup you
Filled this year
For Samhain
Bids you all:
Drink up!

* ~ * ~ *

Happy New Year!
May you be bathed in love and light
May you feel warm and full
May you find strength and joy
May you know peace of mind

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especially in times of dark

but especially in times of dark,
encroaching space,
my hope alights and leans
on an enduring faith
in the human spirit
and the myriad illumined pockets
of kindness and enlightened thought.
They are as the stars in a night sky:
escape the density of beamed artifice
and they are constant; visible.
For the heart sees what it looks for
as much as does the mind’s lensed eye.


Are you swamped by endless mis-speak
From the fat and windy arse cheeks?
Are you drowning in the effluence
Of flat earth,
Not worth shit?
Have you had enough of it?
Are you sick of all the sound and fury,
Head fog
Tight wad
Cheap trick
Quick-fix, petty juries?
Are you feeling under siege
To what the populists assume we need?
And does it make your eyes and ears bleed
Every time
Some five and dime
Promotes another Plimsoll line?
And do you groan
Because the chorus is in monotone
And all you really want
Is for the foaming mob
To zip its gob
And bugger off
And leave the blessèd mess they’ve made
The heck alone?

Apparently, David Cameron looks like a Prime Minister…

Apparently David Cameron looks like a Prime Minister – which must surely be based on the fact that he is the Prime Minister rather than on any notion that he’s actually any good at it. Not that I’m claiming that Ed Miliband necessarily would be a good Prime Minister either but, really: Call-me-Dave is no leader, is he, not by any measurable means. He can’t command the loyalty of his troops, he’s really terrible at negotiating, he’s crap at strategy and he thinks in puddle-deep box sets. And as for his policies: they are ridiculous, petty, ignorant, cruel and extortionate. What Dave is good at, though, is insisting on the validity of tosh, pretending that he has had a coherent plan all along and reverting to the mob mentality of jeering and bullying when cornered. What he is good at is whipping out his serious face and reddening it on demand. He’s excellent at that. There is no real substance to this man, neither in his philosophy nor his expression of personality. He thinks and speaks in short straight dashes and disconnected particles.

Maybe Ed really isn’t as popular as Dave. I wonder what difference it would make to public perceptions if the Media weren’t quite so keen to keep making us think this. Obviously his policies should be critiqued, just as Cameron’s should be. Both men provide plenty of scope for that! But Ed is treated as though he were one of those awkward kids at school who had trouble fitting in because no one would let him. Jeez! He’s even been asked straight to his face if he thinks he is ‘normal’!

We all knew those kids in school: something about their background, physical appearance, speech patterns, an eccentric personality – anything, real or made up, that made them an easy and constant target for the ‘popular’ kids. Well that’s the eager bullying attitude that echoes through the media and, indeed, many a Twitter hashtag. He’s not the only regular victim, of course. Any public person and many a private individual are fair game for those who would rather play the wo/man than the ball; for those, so impotent in their anger, that they will relish any opportunity for the brief satisfaction of cheap, irrelevant, infantile spite. We all knew those kids at school, too, didn’t we? And some never grow out of it, do they..?

I wonder how differently Cameron would be received by the electorate if the media were to show him the same level of relish for personalised disrespect; if it focused constantly on his personal appearance, that diction, the head bobbing, his mannerisms and personality with the same opportunistic degree of attention. How marvellous it would be if the media had actually bothered to properly scrutinise his policies these last years!

It’s one thing to be gently amused at someone’s public gaffs; to facepalm at the ease with which public figures can gift satire; to despair over unintended farce. But isn’t it quite another when those with the public power seem to want so much to negatively frame a person’s character that it is prioritised to distraction? And is this personalised shredding not relentless? And if a person is always framed a certain way, where do the cause and the effect begin and end?

Ed is probably not the best leader Labour could have come up with. (Forget his brother. He is no loss unless you think another Blairite or Cameronian is what the country needs.) But Ed is commonly perceived to be an intelligent, thoughtful, decent man, speaking from the heart, with a serious intent to govern in the interests of everyone. It’s because his policies are such a poor reflection of this that he deserves the ridicule or criticism. The rest is really extra curricular bitchy dross.

Every day, the disabled, the mentally ill, single parents, the unemployed are bullied based on ignorant preconceptions and meanness of spirit. Every day there is a story somewhere about the serious problems our kids are facing with the pressures of online bullying, sexting, nomination etc. Every day there is anxiety about the world we are creating and leaving to the next generations. We like to hold ourselves up as beacons of sexual, racial, gender equality and the like and yet our default is still to the sorry playground politics of irrational, shallow, mob-handed prejudice.

Those who want to or intend to vote Labour appear to do so for two main reasons: 1) they actually still believe in/agree with Labour or 2) they know the country just could not stand another Conservative-led term and that, in spite of its increasing inter-party and party-electorate relationship disarray, Labour is currently the only viable alternative (at least by numbers). I’m currently in the miserable latter group, wishing I could be in the first.

I don’t know if Ed Miliband will be a good Prime Minister but I do know David Cameron is absolutely not. I feel sick at the thought of having to choose by virtue of a lesser evil. Labour is not sufficient to my needs and vision but the Cons are utterly detrimental to both. I’m worried about a great deal of Labour’s materialising manifesto because it is mostly merely tinkering with the problems of neoliberalism rather than dismantling it and delivering alternative narratives but I’m not so doubtful of Ed’s general good intent or integrity. It’s difficult to distinguish whether Labour’s Tory-lite policies are driven by populist panic or by true belief but there is, nonetheless, more hope in this sad shambles than the current crop of Cons could ever muster, even if it wanted to.

Ed might be as awkward, clumsy, perhaps, as does the Media present him but, while I appreciate the preference, even the need for a bit of polish and charisma, I at least don’t look at Ed and see a jumped-up, moralising, divisive and superficial character as I do when I look at Dave. I don’t see the inauthentic, quite so self-serving PR stuntman in Ed that I see in Dave. I see in Ed, a man who might not fit the traditional ‘alpha’ mould but who has shown, at times, that he has some courage in his bones. I see a man who may or may not want to, or even be able to create sufficient escape velocity from the corporatised world but I think he will, at least, not so readily bow down before it. What I also see is a man thus far surrounded by too much truly dismal advice.  If he cannot be the engine of true progress then he will simply have to serve as the brakes on this bullshit bus we’re travelling in while we figure out the next move. And, yes: that sucks.

blue chip narcissists

Don’t be stupid!

They take time
And will and wit
And wisdom
Built on knowledge
And informed consent.

Common sense?
Don’t hold your breath!
Have you seen your screen
Or read the nonsense in the Press?

Keep wishing
While you’re witnessing
The dark heart of Establishment

This isn’t just a crony prism:
This is blue chip narcissism
We’re undone by nigh on everyone
Who’d touch the hem of government.

Shut up about the bloody deficit!

Shut up about the bloody deficit!
For crying out loud!
It’s a heap of crap
A schtick
A neoliberal trap
A stick with which to beat the crowd.
Live within our means?
Who? Me or you?
The outright shitty nerve of it!
I’m trying to
But your means are obscene,
Distorted –
Based on false hypotheses.
You make me sick with
Your false consciousness.
Stop shagging TINA –
Change the fucking narrative.
The deficit concerning me
Is your lack of integrity.
Stop being stupid wankers:
Use the central bankers properly.

Oh, Patrony!

Oh, Patrony!
What is my market value –
My commercial worth?
Am I a cost-effective?
What say you, mein dear electeds?

Do I serve a purpose
You can use?
Can I choose?

Is there any point in having character,
Ambition; even dreams?
Oh, my patricians!
Should I exercise contrition?

Do you advise I lose the attitude,
Replace it with some gratitude
And learn to scream my misery
Into a thick, dark silence?

Pay enough and maybe I will try…

Are you buying me
For just my time?
Is that my only USP?
Am I allowed to fulfil me
Or is my duty first
To those who thirst for punishments
By righteous indignation?
Should I make oblations
To the system you insist is working?
Would you have me twerk obedient
And be expedient stock?

Can’t I have a shot at more than
Muddled, puddle-deep criteria
Of top-down fuelled hysteria
That fixes me upon your chopping block?

Profit’s cosh

Roll up! Roll up!
A feudal gift!
Who’ll start the bid
Where value fits
The drudge
And cudgel never quits
The one pound fish
And nine to five
Disabled fabled
Hung to dry
The young ‘uns squandered
On old lies
From sanction knife
To food bank dish
Workfare, a lair
To bonded strife
On call to all
Or hours of zero calls, at all
The welfare falls
No space to thrive
Takes everything to just survive
Bish bosh!
The cosh of profit lives
Commodified to market wish
Who gives a fig
For equal shares
The serf-bound life
Is spice and grist
To Papa’s neoliberal pish

Pick your populist!

Fair weather politics
Wants a quick fix
A shortcut
Slick trick
One it controls
But can’t predict
Well, how exciting!
Pick your populist!
Someone preening
Something neat and clever
Hell for leather
How inviting!
Fight the drudge
With grudge and glamour
In the mainstream sludge
Until it isn’t
Now each twisted ist and ism
Forms the prism
Of the schism bound
And plants its fiat flags
Upon a fragile centre ground.