bet the World

Man, in all his vanity,
so eager to compete,
has bet the World
to beat her at destruction to create,
by the design of an intelligence
he fakes.

Dave duly whips his COBRA out

Amid his festive revels,
Cameron rolled his devilled porky pies,
put down his glass, reluctantly,
to heave his unbecomingly
chillaxèd arse and rosy snout,
and demonstrate his sympathy,
Dave duly whipped his COBRA out
[well, ’tis the Season for repeats]
and chaired a dial-up meet…

‘Now look:
the Northern Poorhouse really pumps me up!
and Oik says it’s no time to go all soft about distress;
that we must fix this mess without reversing
any of his cuts and he suggests I pop a team
aloft my chopper, just to mop the recent flood
of this unprecedented, hostile-growing Press.

‘Pretend to care; to share concern.
Claim we’re doing all we can;
praise our Big Society for learning
to do more with less; blame
extremist weather, coming over here
and cheer, again, the wisdom of
our long-term economic plan.

‘Right, Roger that?’
‘For TINA!’ urged the staff, straight back.

Thus, Dave, to save his bacon,
[not the people he’s forsaking
by the resource droughts he’s making]
stiff’d his British value sinews;
donned his Everyman dry wellies
and a posture for some telly clout;
flew to cock a bold blue snook
and wave his cold, damp squib about.


Woods and trees

We are, each, the embodiment of the human condition. Peoples to a person, unique and the same, our imperatives and characteristics overlapping and bumping into each other, relative and subject to a million and one contexts. We hardly know ourselves, even as we presume to categorise others and seek to negate or reshape them to fit our fleeting comfort.

We cherry-pick ‘n mix micro and macro for argument’s sake and we treat them as isolated systems when it comes to, well, systems. We confuse and conflate effects and correlations, assigning their causes according to tribal instincts, narrow, prescriptive framing and emotional whim and yet how easily we forget that every thing leads to another. Not just the things we pay attention to.

How we fuss. We scrutinise the heart out of each other, fixing on binary reductions of acceptability or threat. We sacrifice nuance and complexity to distortion and banality. We muddle the most superficial or irrelevant with the most profound of natural states and we behave as though either and both might bring the human world to its knees at any moment.

We’re still fighting for universal respect for and application of human rights; still protesting for socio-economic justice and basic civil equalities. We’re still ascribing sub-human status, according to paranoia and political fancy; still elevating dross to celebrity; still coveting what we think exists over our neighbour’s fence. We’re still monopolising and squandering the resources of our one, beautiful planet; still arguing about whose God is greatest… And over and over we make war in the name of Peace. We are already on our knees.

We think we see things as they really are but, really, we’re only seeing things as we are and we are aware of little more than events and selected details. We don’t know when to speak up and when to mind our own business. We don’t recognise what we should and need to control or what we are allowing to have control over us. We don’t discriminate appropriately or effectively; we can’t discern wish from truth nor potential from reality and so we think it simpler to just try to control everything and everyone.

And how we faff. We constantly tinker around the edges of problems, addressing the latest symptoms and ignoring their quite evident causes. This doesn’t just allow old symptoms to fester and their causes to become downgraded, over time, to ‘unfortunate’ but it also adds a whole other level of new causes. We seem hell-bent on rose-tinted nostalgia but we refuse to actively retrace our steps. We would rather pretend that we are merely adapting to forces beyond our control than reaping the consequences of so much that should have been avoided.

We don’t really look at the roots and common threads of our problems. Not deeply nor wholly. We glimpse with darting, panicked eyes, wring our hands and do what we can with the skim. Just getting through the day. Lurching with fingers crossed. But the skim has to go somewhere. It becomes another blanket burden to Society, to add to the already suffocating layers and it creates further opportunities for ideological and financial exploitation. Every burden we bear provides another’s comfort blanket. Worse, still, if our comfort comes by the increase of another’s burden. It isn’t ethical or sustainable.

We live under a constant process of inadequate triage. Tinkering and skimming are default management settings. Like bailing out a distressed boat that was never really seaworthy. There is viable land and most of us have spotted it but the crew prefer that we keep bailing, even as the holes increase and the weather worsens. The crew is drunk on the short-term, shortsighted power of profitable crises. The officers and their minions tell us that that land is hostile and to bail faster, lest we run aground the only boat available for that long-promised rising tide to lift.

We are gullible sponges and cynical repellents, by context, by turn, susceptible to wish and self-fulfilling prophecy. We are sands, easily shifted; blades of grass, bending upon a fixed point. And as entrenched as granite.

And between us, we have managed to undermine the subtle and make a virtue out of complicating the obvious. We’ve managed to fragment history and turn it into a blueprint for all manner of psychopathic algorithms and effectively reduced Imagination and Empathy to a small, closed circuit.

The Ug of the Smug

Who cares about legality –
It’s black and white, if we like,
As and when it feels right –
And Mammon loves solutions
With a sense of finality
Coz principles are pricey
And equivocation suits us nicely
As does your stuff
And you’re not competitive enough

You cannot be electable
If you are not susceptible
To neocon depravity and popular banalities
Coz our way is the highway
And you’re just a formality
What has economics got to do with morality?
There you go again
With your troublesome causalities
Oh, my bleeding heart
Don’t start about Humanity
The planet is too small
For your lefty, needy rights an’ all

You mustn’t win
Just us! Just us!
You can’t come in
Oi! Who the hell taught you to swim?
Well, sell your soul
Get a loan
Buy an aspiration phone
Be a good serf
Know your worth
Or find a ladder of your own
But leave the All Right Jacks alone

What’s ours is ours
And so is yours
That’s why we help you fight our wars
And you oblige so well with yours…