Articles
“You’re So Naïve”, part 1
EXACTLY 7 YEARS AGO TODAY, I wrote a song, entitled “You’re So Naive!” It was written in the bawdy ensemble style of one of those songs which football teams record to commemorate a World Cup championship. 🙂 This was in the immediate aftermath of the first election of Barack Obama as president of the USA in November 2008. The world was riding on a wave of euphoria. The internet was awash with people thinking that the Messiah had come and that world peace was at last attainable. The naivete was astonishing! All the trendy new age people were saying that they had been told by their “channelling” sources that Obama had been sent as a light-bringer and that overnight the vibration of the planet had been raised to a new high. The Ascension was finally here! Really, you couldn’t make it up! 🙂 When I put the song with a commentary about it on social media (which was MySpace in those days as Fakebook was barely two years old), I received many angry messages from people accusing me of standing in the way of the “energetic flow” which this event had caused. One woman wrote that even if it was true that Obama was just another “patsie president”, it didn’t matter because the wave of positivity which had swept across the planet at his election “had changed the earth’s vibration forever”. In other words, hope which is based entirely on falsehood and deception is to be welcomed. Eight years later, I see no improvement either in the state of the earth or in the extent of that dippy way of thinking, which is now even more widespread in its hold on people’s minds. Honestly, I wonder if “stupidity” would be a better word than naivete, using it in its base meaning of being in a stupor. Or maybe “wilful ignorance” would be even better. For the truth is plain for all to see but the majority refuse to acknowledge it and either accuse truthtellers of being “conspiracy theorists” or lose themselves in pseudo-spiritual fantasies about imaginary channellings, energy fields and “Ascensions”. I could write a whole book about this! Anyway, here are the lyrics of “You’re So Naive”:
This is just the Beginning
“THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING!” Those were the words I wrote in the aftermath of the Charlie Hebdo massacre at the beginning of this year, accompanied by a large article giving the background to the incident and putting it in its true context (that article is available to you if you ask me for it). Actually, IT had begun long before. The “it” to which I am referring is World War 3, which is not a war in the conventional sense, for it is the first war which solely involves mind-control and psychological operations (PSYOPS) carried out by the intelligence [sic] networks of the major countries in the world (with the CIA, MI6 (or SIS) and Mossad as the prime movers). The overall purpose of WW3 — its endgame, if you will (which is merely the prelude to a far more sinister phase which I will not speak of here) — is to render whole populations so cowed and fearful and proxy-vengeful by the acts of terrorism and chaos breaking around them that they will be perfectly happy for their governments to wage serial wars in countries which the power elite wish to destabilise and take over, as well as being agreeable to those governments implementing tentacular “security” legislation which could have come straight off the pages of Orwell’s novel “1984”.
Remembrance Day
IT’S STRANGE BUT EVERY YEAR, AS NOVEMBER APPROACHES, a kind of heaviness overtakes me which doesn’t leave me until well after the 11th (Armistice Day/Remembrance Day in Europe and Veterans Day in the US). In the last few years that period has produced a powerful melancholy poem about War from me. It’s as if the whole weight of the futility and hubristic evil of War — especially the First World War — weighs down on me, as my essence comes out in empathy with those whose lives were worthlessly squandered and also with the hell of their experiences. That war is like a hideous abscess on the arse of humanity. And when I respond to those deep feelings by writing something about war — whether a poem or an essay — it’s as if I keep the fire burning of all the young poets in the trenches who were sacrificed to satisfy the madness of the psychopathic power-players who designed that war while they sipped sherry on the lawn. Although I could mention names such as Isaac Rosenberg, Ivor Gurney or Siegfried Sassoon, I’m thinking especially of the beautiful Wilfred Owen, the officer who died aged 25 along with more than 1000 others in the battle at the crossing of the bridge over the Sambre–Oise Canal on November 4th 1918 — just one week before Armistice Day. All his war poems, written within the space of one hellish year, were published posthumously.
The Deconstructed Bully
An Allegory for our Times
IN MY COLLEGE, there was a bully. Not an unusual occurrence, you may think. But the circumstances surrounding this bully were so extraordinary that they merit deconstruction. For this bully was able to seduce almost all the teachers there into believing that he was not only a paragon of virtue but also that it was HE who was the victim of any bullying!
But let me begin at the beginning…
More on the Jacky Sutton alleged “Suicide”:
Quote from the Daily Mail: “Lorna Tychostup, who worked with [Jacky] in 2010, said: ‘I lived with her in Baghdad in her compound in her villa [for] at least four months. I saw her under a tremendous amount of stress. She handled herself with dignity, with strength. So it’s nonsense [to say she was] crying because she missed a flight. The idea that she would not have funds to take her wherever she wanted is ludicrous. She definitely rattled cages. I’m sure she had some people who didn’t like her in places of power.”
The Flaky Chick Phenomenon
or Entitlement Princess Syndrome
One of the most noticeable developments of recent years is the huge increase in emotional disorder amongst women in general in the the world today. The fact that people can now express their every whim freely 24/7 on social media means that this disorder is increasingly manifest. In short, flaky chicks are now a big phenomenon on social media. Here is an in-depth analysis and deconstruction of this phenomenon, its likely causes and any possible cures. Please click on the link below to read the article:
PDF: The-Flaky-Chick-Phenomenon.pdf
© Alan Morrison, 2017
Subtlety [prose poem]
That is something I love more than so much else in this kitschly oafish world. I’d rather have a ripple than a swell — an aroma rather than a smell — an understated presence which unobtrusively waits with calmness to be seen (knowing that it will, by those who are attuned to its gentle shower’s evergreen). A cultivated hybrid rose cannot outdo a wild and meadowed flower. A patient talent doesn’t crassly bang its drum (because it knows what placidness will help it to become). A dynamic whisper rather than a yell (sleeve-tugging propaganda always rings a tawdry bell). The flicker of a smile instead of cheesy grins. The delicate and unposed face which you can wake up next to every day without becoming bored. (Love-letters writ in lowercase will much more likely strike a chord). The quiet confidence of self-composure rather than the swaggered boast of self-exposure. Subtlety: the lost art of today. How much more attractive is nuance rather than noise — Nestor rather than Narcissus! — openness over plots and ploys. Such will be the character of the phoenix world to come, whose strings already here I strum for we can live the future now as the gentle vital avant-garde — no more we’ll have to slip and slide on gore within this bloody abattoir. But what I love above all else about the touch of subtlety is that it makes you look and listen with far more than merely eyes and ears (though first you need to understand your darkness and your fears). It expands the imagination, nurtures sensitivity, encourages creativity, takes away all bitterness as well as helps you love the moon (identifies the secret tune you play). Subtlety is the door to the art gallery of wisdom.
How to say “Goodbye!” to your self
THREE DAYS AGO, I put one of my poems on here, entitled “Today, I Bid myself Goodbye”. I then received a message saying: “Hey, Alan, are you depressed? Why would you want to say goodbye to yourself. That’s weird”. So I have written this article as a form of reply. Although I am grateful for this guy’s concern, I must say that I am not at all depressed. On the contrary! I can, however, understand why some may be unfamiliar with the idea of saying goodbye to one’s self. So this is a kind of commentary on the poem designed to show what I meant by it.
1. WHAT DOES “SAYING GOODBYE TO YOUR SELF” MEAN?
Firstly, I should say that saying goodbye to your self does *not* mean that there will be no ego whatsoever. One would cease to exist if that occurred! One does actually need some healthy aspects of ego purely in order to survive in this world. Neither is it a reference to any kind of suicide, which some might think on a superficial reading of the title.
Making Proper Charlies out of Us
Before we get to talk about the recent events in Paris (which the title of this piece clearly references), let’s have an extended introduction to provide a background to those events — a kind of quick “what’s-going-on-in-the-world-for-dummies” glimpse of the global stage which has inexorably led to where we are now. You see, the events in Paris have not occurred in a vacuum. For it is a very dark world in which we currently live. I know you may want to believe otherwise and your positive thinking guru will have misleadingly told you that you shouldn’t ever think about all this because it creates “negative energy” (a buzz phrase which is thrown around gratuitously like confetti among New Age wannabes). But exposing the negative is actually positive! For it shows us what we are really dealing with in the world, how to live in a right and authentic way while it is happening, as well as filling us with encouragement. Now you may say: “What! How could thinking about a dark world possibly fill us with encouragement?” It will do that because I will ensure that it is put in a beautiful context that will show you where the light is in all of this. So… please walk with me for a while…
The Hidden Effects of being a Whistleblower
I’m just having an interesting correspondence with a highly-respected clinical psychologist I worked with more than 30 years ago and haven’t had contact with since. We were both involved in whistleblowing an exposé of sustained physical abuse as part of the treatment system in a showcase children’s assessment centre. I’m speaking about aggressive power-games by staff on children, beatings-up, threatenings, subtle and outright cruelty of many kinds — even forcing children as young as five years old to eat their own vomit. I had worked closely undercover with an investigative journalist on The Guardian newspaper; and after a couple of months of evidence-gathering the story broke on the front page of the paper. As you can imagine, all hell broke loose as the local authority council and department of social work set about covering their asses. Shortly after, a Public Inquiry, presided over by a judge, was held during which potential witnesses were plainly bribed or threatened and mass betrayals took place by people who had promised to testify against the centre. My legal representative at the Inquiry (who was actually a lawyer for the National Council for Civil Liberties — what a joke!) behaved like an imbecile. (I later discovered he was in the same Freemason’s lodge as the Director of Social Services 
😉 ). The police had also aggressively tried to threaten me to drop my witness-stance (they had been involved in the abuse too, beating kids up, covering up, etc.). Needless to say, the directors of the childen’s centre were eventually declared to be the innocent victims of a smear campaign. It was a total debacle.
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The Naked Troubadour 