You’re So Naïve
YOU’RE SO NAIVE! That was the title of a song I wrote on 2nd December 2008, addressed to the mesmerised masses across the world who were rejoicing at the thought of Obama being elected to the presidential office for the first time. When that happened, most of the world thought that their Messiah had come. But some of us knew it was just another cheap trick worked by behind-the-scenes strategists to make people think there had been some kind of sea-change when really it was a clever way of maintaining the status quo. Since the time of President J.F. Kennedy (who was plainly assassinated because he was prepared to stand up to the CIA and organised crime), the message has been clear: Presidents are tools and puppets of the real powerbrokers in this world (the Powers-that-Be, PTB) and have no power of their own whatsoever. As events develop now in the world as it is today, maybe many more will come to realise this too. The melody of this song resembles one of those football chants sung by crowds at matches. Here are the lyrics:So now you have a leader who is “young and black and real”
“Change we can believe in” is the mantra that you feel
But how come I am standing here with heaviness of heart?
It’s a tragedy in Grecian style and we all have a partYou’re so naïve!
The PTB are laughing up their sleeve
You’re exactly what they need
Their power-games you feed
You’re so naïve! Continue reading…
Curtain Call [poem]
A cow will never languish in a snail’s shell.
A dragon would look silly in a spider’s web.
A horse cannot be hiding in a pimpernel.
A skunk could not be snoring in a featherbed.
Contrary to what most normal people claim,
square pegs can neatly fit in rounded holes.
The problem’s not the fit but wasted space
spent trying to play some unbecoming roles.
When to Open one’s Mouth
It’s quite an art in life knowing when to open one’s mouth and when to keep it wisely shut — recognising that even silence can speak with a thousand words. Never being led by one’s tongue but tethering it for when it will be useful. Never using it as an unyielding whip, idle gossiper or badmouth backbiter — knowing that words are living things which can build up the weakest heart or break down the biggest bully. Our words, as much as our eyes, are the window to our souls. Daily I tell myself: “Don’t speak because you have to say something but because you have something to say”. Some days it’s harder than others to obey myself 😉
Dark Side and the Pathway of Light
There is an easy way to tell the difference between the Dark Side and the Pathway of Light. For the Dark Side always has an affinity for acquisition and accrual. It loves to accumulate things — whether it be power or material objects. The Pathway of Light, however, involves renunciation. Acquisition and renunciation are the two diametrically-opposed qualities on which darkness and light pivot. When I see statements all over Facebook about techniques for “manifesting one’s desires” in abundance (i.e. creating wealth) I see the Dark Side. They are simply motivational get-rich-quick schemes dressed up in psychobabble and “spiritual” clothing (often involving some kind of pyramid-selling scam or getting you to attend some “energy alignment” sessions in order to become a session leader yourself and make loadsamoney — thus creating a self-perpetuating cult which sees itself as the ultimate answer to humanities ills!).
Your Green and Yellow Hats [sonnet]
The hat you wear is green, perched on your head —
a beacon there for all the world to see.
You could have worn a yellow one instead;
both hats would show your colours glaringly.
Mind-Fuck [poem]
If I could fuck your mind I would.
By what it would be fucked I cannot tell.
But something in me wants to fuck it hard;
I think I read you also do as well.
Bodies drenched in skinsmooth beauty
forn (and fawn) and porn themselves like
STD confetti on the potent wind of lust.
But physical attraction (when divorced
from mighty dreamfilled powers of mind)
is something I can never inly trust.
Unchained Threnody [sonnet]
Free from you at last. Where once your sandals
fit my feet in random patterned fever;
now I walk the street without love handles,
dangling in extremes — an ex-believer.
Train Crash near Santiago
A number of friends from around the world have been asking me about the train crash near Santiago in northwest Spain which looks to have killed at least 80 of its 218 passengers. A few have insinuated that they think Spanish transport could be to blame as if it is not of a good standard. Let me say that my experience of the Spanish transport system is that it is extremely well-maintained and engineered. The train service is excellent. The roads are of a very high standard indeed. Driving on Spanish roads is to me a much more pleasant experience than driving, say, in the UK. The train crash today is a one-off occurrence in an otherwise very good record of service. Looking at the security camera footage of the impact, it is a miracle that anyone at all survived. And the vast number of Spanish public who went to the aid of the dying and injured is a real testament to the warm-heartedness of the people in this country. They didn’t hesitate to throw themselves into the fray. I know only too well that such an accident issues in a high number of amputations and even decapitations from flying glass and metal. Yet these people rushed from their houses with blankets without hesitation. Angels every one. I take my hat off to them and the emergency services too. Must be difficult for them to sleep tonight. A truly shattering experience. I’m sending hearty, supportive thoughts in their direction and that of the families of the dead and injured. How slender is the thread of life. An event like this puts things into perspective. Grasp the whole of life with both hands while you can. It’s as long as a whispered breath. Live each day as if it could be your last…
Imagine if I announced…
IMAGINE IF I ANNOUNCED that I was writing a novel about a civilisation on a planet where what people eat is determined by corporations whose *only* desire is to make huge amounts of money and most of what they produce is not only non-nutritious but actually harmful, in that they cause a welter of serious conditions such as cancer, obesity, behavioural disorders, heart & and circulatory disease. What’s more, those corporations continually advertise their “foodstuffs” by making out as if they are healthy, yet no advertising standards authority ever stops them and governments continually support them. And, what’s even more is that anyone who tries to expose all this is publicly ridiculed and ostracised or even assassinated (while “scientists” are sponsored to write “independent” whitewash reports which exonerate the corporations’ activities). And, what’s even more than that, mostpeople just go along with it and eat all that shit even though they know it to be shit (that’s probably the most shocking part). People would say I was writing another “1984” and how relieved they were that such an awful thing couldn’t happen here. Until I told them that it wasn’t fiction! 😀
The Princely Path [poem]
A certain foetus (who I cannot name)
has slithered down the birth canal of life
into the world today. And in no time at all
I guarantee will slither out the other way.
They come.
They go.
Whether royalty or paupers
they all play their tawdry bit parts
in this raucous
hawk-filled
rotor-bladed
moving picture show.
The Naked Troubadour 