What's this individualism that works to deaden the human ecoysystem of mutual sharing of extending interconnected branches of caring. In this system the tree begins to twisten encountering boundaries. We're behind bars while still in the cradle we're taught not to listen to the voice of wonder that connects us to nature that we deaden each day Cos even the water; the warmth-giving energy sources; the teaching and learning that opens us to self expression creativity and passion comes at a cost commodification is loss You could weep for all the potential lost but this world doesn't allow us to be soft Human nature if such a thing existed and hasn't already been transformed into an aberrated norm is not defined structure Aren't we made from clay? Let's ball this model of cruelty in our fist Let's make a new mould and shape ourselves in an image of beauty
Ranting about politics in verse
The bluebird builds her nest in nature's cradle the hollow of a tree or a little box of wood crafted by human hands with love But man's poor children estranged from nature that same care we don't afford a damp-ridden hovel will have to do cranky boiler, leaking roof what sort of society is this? That doesn't nurture youth? In underfunded schools we cultivate obedience in their souls not joy and love and music but obedience to overlords. Now say: God save the King you're a subject don't you know that's today's lesson it's tradition it's how it goes subjected to oppression that is your natural role. And we pay up each month and call the master of our hovel lord And money that should keep our children warm and fed keeps the rich fat and comfy in their bed So enjoy your high thread count sheets sir turn on the aga no fear of the energy bill for you wash yourself in that corner bath but the rot runs through and through the stains are on your hands no amount of scrubbing will get them off. the stain of children's poor nutrition of aborted dreams and ambitions of billionaires' newspapers that spread division heartlessness that creeps inside us and racist tradition but maybe it's not really your fault cos it's built into the system you can say taking advantage of it is just clever opportunism But didn't I once have a vision "What does revolution mean, mum?" It means, that things will turn around like the earth spinning out of darkness the sun will emerge And it will happen "I'm glad you can still hold on to that dream" some laugh disenchanted from too much unfulfilled wishing raise a glass in the pub and drink up that pessimism. But I know this world can be beautiful And children are born understanding what is fair and I'll make sure they don't lose that innate and glowing care "What does labour aristocracy mean mum?" No I'm kidding they didn't really ask that It means that while you go to school Other children in India are mining Mica that makes this makeup glitter that exploitation of two thirds of the world is what makes this country richer. But isn't this the best we can do? Isn't this just the way things have to be and we should enjoy our small advantage and put something calming on TV No, use your imagination there are more of us than them once we free our minds our chains we can break come on, Marx already said this in 1848!
When friendships die
The underground mycellium roots Do they feast on the dead? Or bring nourishment and light from wise mother oak to each sapling bespoke? And what happened to that one we planted in his name? The boy who died too young? Or maybe the universe has a way a knowing we must trust for everything to follow in succession as the sinking of the sun and he was gone when he must. Memorial sapling swallowed by brambles rapacious and clamouring strangling those beneath They say- Try to spread joy to those for whom you care but sometimes we don't have the chemistry to make the healing elexir We say incantations of ill-placed actions and words how far can caring roots reach when hands unclasp the bonds do not hold fast. And when mycellium roots reach out to barren land friendships are gone like opening a sarcophagus in the sun what had such vigour and shape as dust dissipates How can green turn to sand? Our understanding a radio connection gone out of range is this what they call climate change?
Nostalgia
Why is it I can always read on the beach? Pages enfolding me in the sea-shell spiral of infintesimal images broad as the horizon contained within something lighter than this rock in my hand? Why is it I can always feel memories returning? each wave a dizzying cascade of nostalgia. Presuppositions crashing apart into a million foamy splinters. Why is it, with nature's roar of power in my ears Her deafeaning shushing, allaying my fears I want nothing more than each salty sputum to carry me piece by piece back to a time which maybe didn't exist of perfect belonging of enfolding in scent and warmth in your arms.
My cat is dying so I wrote a poem
Stripey ginger tank-on-legs cannot eat but hungry, begs in amber eyes flicker traces of feline grace a spark of lion-spirit in eyes agate. First, you must have been a ball of fluff tangerine sundrop rendered into matter suckling at mother cat's warm side until the door was flung open wide and senses primed only for pampering were forced to sharpen to survive. Stoic sufferer, you huddled in the cold in your tawdry orange coat, you grew youthfully old as rain and snow fell without care and distracted, disgusted humans left you there. No longer cute, to them you were just a nuisance flea-beridden brute. In your last year we brought you here sheared you of matted fur and fear with love and care you flourished a marigold bloom stretching petals open in the sun you learned how to be a cat once more and capture our hearts and that blue bird toy you adored. Old man lion and tangerine kitten became one. In your patch of golden light you were a tiger resplendant in the sun. Your warmth and clockwork purr accompanied me through days joyful and arduous alike a weight of warm existence never judging, never in strife. You interrupted my reveries with your old-man smoker's deep miaow You showed me how one goes on when one doesn't know how. With your strong headbut you scent-marked me with your love I shall miss hearing your breathing in the dark as we shared warmth and a sleeping place I want you to know that When you no longer take up earthly space I'll see you in my head caught in a late-afternoon sunbeam at the end of my bed. and that I was always your human if only you could know that you were always mine as you go back to rejoin the feline-divine.
Negative Impulse
Tonight, I can read your poem and then be kept awake for the next few nights tormented by disquiet in my thoughts that betray me unable to trust my feelings why did it leave me reeling? When I have the nicest sweet thing? Like an alocohlic at 3am as you walk through empty moonlit rooms and it's there but it's not the vitamin juice you reach for with it's promise of goodness you crave to come undone you want the temptation the thrilling fall of giving in you want the whiskey that scorches your throat It's not good for you you know it But it sets your heart racing otherwise what is this life but healthily pacing? Why must I always associate the beautiful with something out of reach If you gave me the garden of Eden I'd want to smash the gates open let in something darker revel in the shadows I know well. Why do we want to make our own hell? Why isn't beauty enough? Like plastic flowers, No, I want the violence of nature the bloom wilting the hummingbird being devoured to set fire to myself on a sacrifical pyre for something I believe in. Why don't I want kindness laid like a gift at my feet? If someone is too good we treat them with contempt. Is this how you felt? Lying beside me at 2am You don't want to settle for an easy life, being tucked quiety in Better to drain the cup drink to our health Then smash it up. Maybe we should get on our knees in the dark And beg God to save us from ourself.
Current Events
As the storm begins to whip the metal beasts we laugh at tumbling careening human feats livestreams of heathrow planes barely landing on their feet marvel at the chaos nature can unleash Now human activity the wheels of history does grease how much chaos is enough to make you laugh enough to make you weep? This has become ghastly spectator sport primed with cartoon archetypes we watch Zelensky stride, muscles taught. They tune in for the next episode dressed in a shawl of yellow and blue the folly of the liberal fool. Where is your outrage for Yemen, Palestine? are the US-sanctions starved women and babies in Afghansitan not relateable enough for your outrage? Is the situation too complex, so you care less? But you say, one shouldn't engage in whatabout as the balance of world peace dangles from a thread though the veiled civil war is ever present as Marx said even in times of what you call peace there is murder inherant in this capitalist machine and what response, then? to this current explosion of violence? One must always act with love for humanity help all those suffering seeking refuge, open wide the door and shout No War But Class War! What am I talking about (because I see some claiming to be on the left cheering Russia on and I think this is incredibly misguided and wrong.): If we define imperalism is the highest stage of capital that emerges in and through capitalism- where a country moves towards developing finance capital and competing for spheres of influence globally in terms of financial exports, then you could say that this conflict has some aspects of an inter-imperialist conflict. (which would in any case mean that this conflict certainly has everything to do with capitalism) However, that would be reductive too, as we must also recognise that Russia has been excluded from the global imperialist order as the enemy of the leading imperialist power (and as a result has sometimes been forced to side with anti-imperialist forces) and though its development has been substantial in the last ten years it still hasn't developed all the advanced capitalist strengths to meet the definition of imperialism, largely due to its economy having been devastated by the collapse of the soviet union. Russia, as an right wing oligarch dominated state would happily partake in imperialism if it had the economic prerequisites- and it even asked when it could become part of NATO in the 90s but was rejected (this was news to me) This conflict is therefore not so much about two imperialist powers trying to dominate the world, but has everything to do with NATO expansion and non-compromise (NATO promised Ukraine admission in 2008)- Russia is trying to stop Ukraine falling into the enemy's hands. Therefore, Russia's motivations can be seen as defensive rather than offensive, which is not at all to justify what they are doing, just to understand it. Of course if the U.S. was pushed in the same way, they would respond in the same way or worse. In fact, this conflict gives the U.S. a perfect opportunity to crush Russia with sanctions while claiming moral superiority- despite recently having frozen and the stolen funds from the Afghan central bank causing a famine that is killing civilians right now on a massive scale which is going completely unremarked upon in the media (civilians who it also bombed as it withdrew from Afghanistan in September) What a world. Thank you to Breht O Sheat from Revolutionary Left Radio for helping me to understand this and all the excellent work you do. https://revolutionaryleftradio.libsyn.com/
Magician
I never thought I could be enough for anyone always a faded outline too shy to be distinct a subtle violet who shrinks the sun passing through her sparkling glacial blur but not with you who can conjure things to appear between your calloused fingers where the cards of fate can slip and slide and you open the whole colour pallette wide of vermillion red amythyst daring aventurine green and we sketch together our new life with one another perhaps one shouldn't open that pandora's jar? no, do it let it spill out never to be reconstrained it's an art fill in the outlines then colour in the heart.
beginning
How are you today? I'm so fucking fine now that I know you. My heart is a seagull soaring never mind it's above the rubbish dump everything is glinting frozen in snow today. Ice crystals split open reflection so piercing it's like a child striking a triangle and when you kiss with no preamble it glints off my insides and my heart's open wide. Maybe this sharp hope will melt and I'll be with tattered boots and torn dreams in a muddy mire bereft of desire but no... when I know I'll see you later and you smell like the safest warm blanket corner and outside it rains and you pull me in maybe this is where it all begins?
Accident
Libra Tell us, how do you balance beneath the weight of a hill-sized avalanche? Constellations in the doming, dripping roof of abandoned freight line tunnel slime spitting onto our cranial orbs glow at the end gives me the urge to speed to the end not anticipating the bend slipping from the verge but little star-chart anomaly though we share no lights in our birth sky you're tied to me through life as on a tandem bike and if I go spinning you come down too unwilling. My fall is your fall and she is too confident on her feet to put hands out Injured, concussed my baby will not be rebuffed though her soul is anchored to matter and in stabbing lights of hospital room as autumn leaf colour changes her cheek bruising the only body she will ever have she smiles as I weep stop crying mama it's not that bad.
Artemis and the Moon 