" Winter is a time for comfort , for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk besides the fire: it is the time for home - Edith Sitwell "But not in Gaza . Winter is the time for pain, for tasteless food and coldness , for the touch of a freezing hand and for a cry beside the fire : it is the time for distress. But sometimes it is totally the opposite. " - Mosab Mostafa , Friend from Gaza, Palestine.
Karl Marx believed that work, at its best, is what makes us human. It allows us to live, be creative and flourish. But under capitalism he saw workers alienated from each other and the product of their labour. Unfortunately we are all products of capitalism. So by it's vey nature it will leave us feeling alienated. The system that capitalism props up wants us to be deatomised and detached from each other, and this atomization will unfortunately continue as long as society exists. Overcoming alienation is a perpetual task for individuals. In other words dealianation is a continuous and interminable process. Rational freedom is the best hope we can have for humanity for overcoming various forms of alienation. I am reminded of the old maxim, the truth shall set you free. We are all cogs in a big machine designed to harness us to the system that keeps the wealthy on top. We can resist this alienation by creating projects for ourselves which produce real interactions outside of the rules and relationships that social reproduction demands. In doing this we can find new affinities and new prospects for destroying the existing order. I remain at the end of the day an optimist. Oh happy St Dwynwens's day, by the way, the Welsh Patron Saint of Lovers. Narrated by Gillian Anderson ; Scripted by Nigel Warbuton
From the BBC Radio 4 series about life's big questions - A history of ideas.
In dreamtime meanderings I drift with subconscious mind, releasing abstract threads of memory from deep repostitory of brain, in transition, some become reality journeys for the future to bridge, flickering in colour, protective spindles of feeling lingering passages of twilights passing pages, swaying through the day and night opening mind, releasing feelings deep inside, gathering scraps of everything to restore fading in and out, never submitting to defeat, waiting for notions of days to come days of change tumbling forward, sparks of magic, spinning through tomorrow
Ahsraf Fayah is a Palestinian Poet, sentenced to death by the Saudi Arabian authorities for allegedly insulting Islam, for the crime of apostasy. Sentenced to death by beheading for expressing a thought ,, but this celebrated poet was basically using his freedom of expression to express his feelings about his identity as a Palestinian, ( his family came from Gaza, even though he was born in Saudi Arabia ) and for sharing his cultural and philosophical ideas in a 2008 book called Instructions Within . Saudi Arabia again disregarding human rights and the rule of law.
Poets and artists across the world have been speaking out, writing poems, signing petitions, calling for his release and acquital in acts of solidarity. A worldwide reading of his own work took place on January 14th.
Here is a kink to a petiton by Amnesty International on his behalf, followed by a poem of mine dedicated to him.
Suppression of thought A distant voice, shared free expression, now confined, by chains of oppression, longing like a dove to fly away, beyond the strains of prison walls, release thoughts that are still unsaid, a poetic voice, for whom we now plead. Each word that is silenced, is part of us, in pieces, struggling to be heard, carrying freedoms breath, untold wonders of feeling, Asraf carries a knowledge of life, that may surpass anything we could attain, words are often open to interpretation, this is the gift of communication, should not be lost in the silence of time, let hope share it's light, the wish of deliverence , from dark captivity, released from suppression, verses to be freed, put to paper, to be granted the ability to breathe again.
above poem posted on I am not a silent poet blog :-
Brion Gysin was a writer and painter. He is best known for his rediscovery of Tristan Tzara's cut-up technique while cutting through a newspaper upon which he was trimming some mats. He did many experiments with cut-ups while living in Tangiers, where he established with the Moroccan painter Mohamed Hamri a cafe called the 1001 Nights in order to employ members of the Master Musicians of Joujouka an ancient Sufi musical collective from the Rif Mountains. so that he could hear them as frequently as possible. He shared all this with his friend William S. Burroughs, who subsequently put the cut-up technique into good good use and dramatically changed the landscape of American literature. To be used again with dramatic effect by the late great Kathy Acker.
The trance-inducing, hypnotic qualities of tthe Master Musicians of Joujouk's music deeply resonated with Gysin’s interests in ritual, mysticism, and altered states of consciousness. He saw the musicians as keepers of a spiritual tradition that transcended time and sought to bring their work to Western audiences.
Gysin and Burroughs famously organised performances of the Master Musicians, introducing their powerful sound to visitors like Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones, who would later record Brian Jones Presents the Pipes of Pan at Joujouka in 1968. Gysin’s role as a cultural bridge between the West and the mysticism of Morocco was not limited to the Beats. His collaboration with Jones would help bring the Master Musicians to the attention of a wider audience, weaving Gysin’s influence into the world of 1960s rock music.
Born in Buckinghamshire, England, raised in Alberta by his Canadian mother, but sent to a secondary school at Downside Catholic College in England. His dad was Swiss who went missing in action in the First World War.By the age of 19 deft at language, Brion was a Parisian and surrealist. Beginning a life of adventure leading eveywhere.
A consumate innovator, Gysin altered the cut-up technique to produce what he called permutation poems in which a single phrase was repeated several times, with the words rearranged in a different order with each reiteration. Together with Burroughs they thought the spell of language could be broken by slicing,dicing and splicing.
An outsider who wanted to ' liberate the words from language.' though without the rules of language I guess words can take on the form of psychobabble. But Gysin liked to use methods deemed outside the pantheon of recognised mediums.
A truly radical trailblazer, Artist, poet, magician, subversive , painter, shaman - Gysin was all these things and more.
It is impossible to sum up the importance of this man, his art in a few short paragraphs, I have long admired him, and would urge you to seek him out.
Significantly he has been called the most influential cultural figure of the last century that most people have never heard of. A big influence on the late David Bowie acting a symbolic role , as an image of unrefined creativity. Bowie talked about the cut-up technique a lot using it to ignite anything that might be in his imagination. Eventually meeting Gysin in 1976., the cut up effect used on his album the Next Day in 2013. The film about David Bowie Cracked Actor: A film about David Bowie that was made in 1974 for Omnibus as part of the BBC's art strand was I guess my first introduction to the worlds of Burroughs and Gysin, so cheers David.
SoHappy 100th birthday Brion Gysin who together with William Burroughs created a 'third mind ' and 'stormed the citadels of enlightenment.'
' Writing is fifty years behind painting. I propose to apply the painters' techniques to writing; things as simple and immediate as college or montage. Cut right through the pages of any book or newsprint... lengthwise, for example, and shuffle the columns of text. Put them together at hazard and read the newly constituted message. Do it for yourself. Use any system which suggests itself to you. Take your own words or the words said to be "the very own words" of anyone else living or dead. You'll soon see that words don't belong to anyone. Words have a vitality of their own and you or anybody else can make them gush into action.
The permutated poems set the words spinning off on their own; echoing out as the words of a potent phrase are permutated into an expanding ripple of meanings which they did not seem to be capable of when they were struck into that phrase.
The poets are supposed to liberate the words - not chain them in phrases. Who told poets they were supposed to think? Poets are meant to sing and to make words sing. Poets have no words "of their own." Writers don't own their words. Since when do words belong to anybody.
"Your very own words," Indeed! And who are you? '
From 1960 essay:- Cut-Ups Self-Explained.
CUT-UPS AND PERMUTATIONS
' Here is the gimmick. Cut up everything in sight. Make your whole life a poem. You can't lose man. You can't lose because you've got nothing to lose but that worthless junk you're sitting on. Get out of the blue Frigidaire and live.
Try it. Be a Poet. Be a Man.'
Gysin - Cut me up
Brion Gysin - No Poets (1962)
Brion Gysin
(untitled 1971)
A short film that makes me stop paying attention to what I am doing and lose myself in the idea that:- 'Nothing is true and everything is permitted.'
( Oscar Williams was the pen name of Oscar Kaplan American anthropologist and poet, here's a comparative piece)
A Total Revolution I advocate a total revolution. The trouble with a semi-revolution. It's likely to be as slow as evolution. Who wants to spend ages in collusion With Compromise, Complacence and Confusion? As for the same class coming out on top That's wholecloth from the propaganda shop; The old saw says there's loads of room on top. That's where the poor should really plan to stop. And speaking of those people called the 'haves' Who own the whole cow and must have the calves (And plant the wounds so they can sell the salves) They won't be stopped by doing things by halves. I say that for a permanent solution There's nothing like a total revolution!
In comparison here's Robert Frosts poem, more famous than Oscar I guess, but I know which poem I prefer, Oscar wins head down.
A Semi Revolution - Robert Frost ( 26/3/1874- 29/1/63)
I advocate a semi-revolution The trouble with a total revolution ( ask any reputable Rosicrucucian) Is that it brings the same class up on top. Executives of skillful execution Will therefore plan to go half-way and stop. Yes, revolutions are the only salves, But they're one thing that should be done by halves.
By the way Robert a true Rosicrucian would never openly admit to being one, while a true revolutionary wears a radical heart on their sleeves, their cause self-evident, ready and willing to sacrifice themselves for their beliefs.
This is what is happening :- " That's the standard technique of privatisation : defund , make sure things didn't work , people get angry , you hand it over to private capital. " - Noam Chomsky As Richard Branson is awarded a hospital contract, it is obvious that the change from a publicly provided N.H. S is being done piece by piece and the extent of the change is being hidden by keeping the logo. Over here in West Wales it seems that Costa Coffee has a new store opening in Glangwili General Hospital , Carmarthen around Feb/March 2016. This leaves a bad taste because the Royal Volunteer Service (WRVS) already provide a wonderful dedicated first class service. But guess they don't matter as those on high grant prestigious contracts that allow and pave the way for the creeping menace of privatisation to leave its ugly mark. Hospitals are increasingly understaffed and ill-resourced and unable to respond to the urgent need of patients - even those of emergency patients. It is not the fault of the staff , it is the fault of the Tories, who have driven the N.H.S to breaking point. Waiting times are up, and it is getting increasingly difficult to see your G.P when you want, combined with ambulance services being put under enormous pressure. The N.H.S is in crisis because it is continually being undermined by this government through covert privatisation that carries on the wreckage and destruction that Margaret Thatcher started. The N.H.S on a cliff edge because of underfunding which threatens to push it over, with continuing attempts to make the N.H.S unworkable by making impossible demands on the system and its staff so we have to continue to fight to save it from the grips of the privateers, because we owe it our lives. We can not afford to sit back while it is being chipped further away and falling increasingly into the hands of those who seek to make profit out of our healthcare. The Torys keep pledging that the N.H.S is safe in its hands but at least we can now see this for the lie that is.
( another poem for Jane, my beautiful wonderful partner who returned home the other day, after 6 months stuck in hospital.)
I have experienced it's effectiveness, as it has carried me, through seas of melancholy, over plaintive depths, have felt it's touch from afar, after it called to remind me, flying across the evening skies, allowing dreams to persist, filling thoughts by day and night, inflaming heart with joy unbound, a gentle beauty that blows away confusion, in the swaying grass, under the stars, withstanding the tests of time, lighting paths, for souls to navigate, beating in unison, dancing in tune, wrapping tenderness closely with care, allowing play and kisses to restore, fluttering musical notes to be released, sweet explosions of truth, breathing fiercely in the air, glowing like a pearl, this resilient thing called love.
The Tories are saying that Junior Doctors are being misled by the BMA, this is not the case, we are being misled by the Government. Junior Doctors are intelligent, experienced and reasonable people who have simply had enough, who spend their lives interpreting complicated information, who simply do not want unsafe contracts to be put into place. With a ballot that saw 98% supporting strike action, they have no other choice now than taking action. It is the Government that keeps attacking the junior doctors suggestions and proposals, vilifying and underminding them , smeared by the right wing press in an attempt to break them and the N.H.S. Their new contracts will force them to work longer and more unsociable hours with a slash in their wages of up to 30%. The new contract will also see moves making junior doctors work overtime for no extra money. The N.H.S is already on thin ice, stretched to breaking point, and these new contracts could force more doctors to leave their career, or see them moving abroad. I truly believe they are worth defending, who also have a great deal of sympathy from the wider public, knowing that their battle is part of a wider one against the Tories and their policies of austerity. Personally if it was not for the N.H.S my partner would probably be dead. Out today after 6 months of caring support in a N.H.S hospital. The N.H.S truly is a wonderful thing, as is its workers so needs all the support that is available. So solidarity and respect to all the junior doctors and all those striking today, no cuts, no privatisation. Remember as long as there are folk left with the faith to fight for the N.H.S it will survive, and who would you rather trust with your lives, Junior Doctors or a Tory Government? Simples so support the Junior Doctors. They really do deserve it. Without the N.H.S we wont be able to bring it back, it will be a return to the dark ages, that the Tories so want us to return to. Lets hope they get a fair deal that help get our N.H.S working again. Serving and protecting us all.
Friend called round,yesterday to give me copy of Mr Bowies new work, , Blackstar, got to listen to it twice last night before heading to bed.Thought it was amazing, actually was blown away.
This morning got a text to say that David had passed away. He was a true inspiration, that I'm sure must have influenced my earlier black liner days, any way words kind of fail me, but here's some anyway, a cut up, for David Bowie. R.I.P beautiful light. Remember no one is perfect.
Starman Restless spirit soars back into the future there's an arc this early morn a rainbow in mournful flight each blade of grass glistening jewelled lights glowing starman sails the seas views the land to abandon weary world a sky of heartbeat butterflies frozen sighs fragile singing tonques sleepy world whispering dancing lights twisting through ultra violet to become electricity in thunderbolts marks of eternity eyes dance again with earnest mischief blazing meteor carried on the game of chance noiser than a candle flame encloses us with a sense of mystery.
