Friday, 19 November 2010

banking fraud and political carpet baggers - debt crisis #3

A quick poem on the latest political smoke and the statements of powerful leaders and their cohorts.
A little ruff, but a quick response to some jaw droopingly callous political gaffs today and the responses that came on Facebook.

Life of Riley
Originally the name of a cow that roamed uncontrolled, that nobody would lay claim too, eating and ruining other peoples harvest, smashing their fences and robbing them of their hard graft and contentedly living happily on their labour, which then became a phrase associated with the officer class or anyone who escaped or was away from the frontline whilst drinking and flashing their cash. Also associated with a clan that produced their own money, and lived well on the cash they created

The Life of Riley
I think the political elite are leading a life of Riley,
The drug they are all on is power,
And the depth of their empathy is as deep
As the silvering on the mirrors they check their faces
And smug smiles with in the morning.

The mirror is cracked and their smiles crooked,
the promises made to be broken.
The drug power, one you have to be rich to buy,
they make sure they do not share,
but cut their politics with scapegoat rhetoric.

And they wonder if their conceitedness looks too big
And ask their media meisters if they can fit in
Some care and compassionate time on the media roundabout
Whilst playing the money making game with finances debt profit taking
Whilst the three debts continue their advance.

Finance, environment and energy,
These debts will take no hostages, of this I am sure.
The rich will fare better, and fairness will go to the wall,
As they make merry with the fruits of our harvest,
And contently cud-full wander and trample on the poor.

Tuesday, 16 November 2010


Read this poem at a fairly recent open mike, and still quite like it, so posted it up.
It carries on the theme of sustainability, looking a little at how we as agents of society collude to bring collective avoidance into a shaded room, hidden behind the active parts of our minds. Together we passively let it happen.

The hidden always needing acknowledging, even if we choose to keep it hidden in our lives, or our comfy worlds.

So we make our lives sustainable, yet at the core lies this hidden un-sustainable trip hazard, which we have to carefully avoid; and in this case a sacrifice to allow us to mentally go on with our lives. Well something like that; so occasionally we do need to look at these hidden truths, and perhaps let them act upon the non linguistic, non verbal psyche; remembering without words. remember?

Oh and I do not like celebrity shows; what do they reveal about ourselves?


Listen away if you can;
The corpse in the corner of all our eyes.

We squirm at spiders on the floor and some squeal ‘help!’
Rats make us hitch up our clothes and call out ‘something must be done!’
So unhygienic!
But we sit watching celebrities eating squiggly wriggling insects for star points,
And fail to stare at children starving; …………..that is too much.
A bad taste in the mouth; bad and inappropriate television,
Yet children die every minute, and warfare kills,
And squirming at nasty things is normal.
But diversion-rating wars are raging.

You may look me in the eye and ask me, am I any better?
But does that not say it all about us?
Communicating together to ignore the un-acceptable,
Embracing the trivial to our hearts to stop them hurting,
Bleeding from our mind’s eye that child dying,
The mother’s grief howls and whimpering,
Because we just can’t get ourselves to act together
As our feelings are too precious to see what’s real
And humanly, with media’s help
Together we arrange the curtains to hide,
The corpse in the corner of all our eyes.

I am no better; say this out loud!
“I am no better”
But that is no excuse for you or me,
The machine of entertainment the tank of trench warfare
Truth the infantry solders bogged down in a killing ground
Marked out by the media generals,
Spun by the patriots who live for the greatness of it all
And emote on the brave injured and killed,
To fight for the promise of desires that will be fulfilled,
Of wealth beyond that in which we are living,
If we battle on and build the common dream,
Sleep walking through a war we cannot even see,
But in our minds we still see peeping,
The corpse in the corner of all our eyes.

Humans over time have committed the heinous,
Atrocities, land taking, ethnic cleansing and killing,
Raping the pretty, killing the old, ugly and the babies,
Burning our souls to fight for our blood-lines.
But never before have we known the world width of injustice,
Never before have we Capital at our hand,
And stood quietly in the viewing big wheel high up above the landscape
To agree with the Third-Man, that down there they are all so insignificantly small,
That we can snuff out a few of them without worrying, noticing.
We are tightly muffled by the enormity of our own life problems,
We will all simply forget ‘Them’; it is far too difficult to remember,
The corpse that is peeping in the corner of our eyes:
“The corpse that is peeping in the corner of my eye”.