Tuesday, 10 January 2017
For the mighty furbster , Jane Elizabeth Husband (9/5/60 - 8/1/17) - Flower of Grace
This is the most difficult post I've ever written, probably one of my shortest, but it is with great sadness I must release the news that my lover and partner,the blessed mighty furbster Jane Husband has passed away after a long courageous battle with cancer.
This beautiful musician, gardener, book lover, music aficionada,peace campaigner, nature loving, feline admirer, friend of social justice, touched the hearts and minds of many, with her love, compassion and understanding.Never passive though, carried so much strength, ... cheers to her mum and dad and reg the crow.
May this star forever shine brightly, her light forever remains.This wonderful , beautiful spirit, captured entirely what is good about humanity. RIP dearest beloved Jane thank you so much for sharing your love. xxxx
RIP dearest beloved Jane.
Flower of Grace
Thank you kindly, farewell beloved
on every morning of the future
we will feel your spirit
and know that you will understand
as you sit there on your cloud
watching gardens below bloom again
the seasons will thank you
your beauty will never dim
words ever clear, vision bright
as we continue to fight through life
remembering all the happy times we shared
my thinking will be warmed
by thoughts of a rare beauty
in peace and total harmony.
Love you, Dave Rendle, teifidancer, Aberteifi/Cardigan, 9/1/17
Sunday, 8 January 2017
Harrods: stop stealing your waiters tips
One of the worlds wealthiest stores was the scene of protest yesterday in a row over tips.
Workers at Harrod's 16 restaurants claim department store bosses keep up to 75 percent of the service charge on each bill. They say the current system means staff are missing out on up to £5,000 a year.
Between 50 and 100 demonstrators led by the union United Voices of the World, which represents some of the west London store’s waiters and kitchen staff, brought Brompton Road almost to a standstill blocking doorways and roads and setting off smoke bombs at Harrods in protest against the store's policy of stealing workers tips collected at its cafes and restaurants.Furious protesters also chanted and slipped notes into pockets, bags and boxes of goods being sold in the store.Campaigners also held up banners which read: “Stop stealing our tips” and “Harrods tips are not for profit”.It led to two people being subsequently arrested.
Mr Petros Elia, UVW general secretary, says “Harrods is showing complete disdain for its low paid staff while profiting off their backs.” Staff are rightly angry that, despite the fact that the store has registered massive, record-breaking profits and its owners, the Qatari royal family, have paid themselves a whopping £100 million dividend, they’ve seen their share of the service charge go down.”
Elia also points out that most diners assume their tips
are a reward for good service. “Harrods is also exploiting the good will
of its customers, most of whom will logically assume that their tips go
to waiters and kitchen staff.”
“Taking away any percentage of the service
charge, which customers think is going to the waiters, is unacceptable.
Taking up to 75% is an utter disgrace. “
That 75% means that every year the Qatari royal family, which owns
Harrods, is taking up to £5,000 worth of tips from every chef, waiter
and porter. Famous worldwide Harrods, had record profits in 2016 of £168m. There is no excuse for Harrods, (not the only ones in the hospitality industry incidentally that carry out this practice.) to keep any of the service charge for themselves.It is about time that this practice of keeping part or hole tips and service charges is outlawed, as the staff are underpaid, robbed and the guests are lied to. Justice to all those working in hospitality industry currently being ripped off and Harrods stop stealing your waiters tips.
Friday, 6 January 2017
Idris Davies (6/1/1905- 6/4/53) -The heart of a dreamer/ Love Lasts Longer
Here are two poems from the pen of one of my favourite poets Idris Davies, who was born on this day, January 6th 1905, in Rhymney. His writings in English and Welsh reflected the idealism and protest of people during a time of great economic, social religious change. In books like The Angry Summer and Gwalia Deserta, Idris Davies did more than just write poetry, he captured the essential dignity of the working man and woman. No other writer has ever come close to expressing the sadness and the depression of the Welsh valleys at that particular moment in time.
Many of his poems were full of anger and rage that release his strong socialist faith, but was more than capable of releasing poems of great tenderness and comfort as the following two examples prove. Enjoy.
I have written about him in a little bit more detail here earlier, he remains a huge influence on me :- Idris Davies -Poet of the people
https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.co.uk/2010/02/idris-davies-poet-of-people.html
From The Collected Poems of Idris Davies, edited by Islwyn Jenkins, published by Gwasg Gomer., 1972
THE HEART OF A DREAMER
I broke my heart in five pieces
And buried a part by the sea
And I hid a part in the mountains
And the third in the root of a tree,
And the fourth I gave to a singer
Who share his wild ecstasy,
But the best I gave to a woman
Who gave all her heart to me.
LOVE LASTS LONGER
Love lasts longer than the roses,
Love is warmer than the wine,
Love is wilder than the whirlwind,
And O that love were mine !
Love is older than the mountains,
Love is fresher than the ides,
Love is sweeter than the lilies,
And O that love were mine!
Love is stronger than the granite,
Love is gentler than a sigh,
Love is richer than the rubies,
And O that love were mine!
Love lasts longer than the roses,
And O that love were mine...
1937
Thursday, 5 January 2017
Know Hope: Life after death in Palestine: crowdfund appeal for new film
“After years on Israel’s most wanted list, a Palestinian militant leader renounces violence for cultural resistance. His losses are great but his hopes are greater.”
Know Hope is a planned documentary on Zakaria Zubede former head of the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade who gave up armed struggle against Israeli occupation and helped to found a theater company–The Freedom Theatre in Jenin. Zakaria was once the most wanted man is Israel for his part in resisting the occupation during the second Palestinian uprising. In 2007 however, he renounced militancy for Israeli amnesty, committing himself solely to cultural resistance and soon became one of the symbols for the cultural movement in Palestine. This fact has made him a continued target, not just from Israel but from the Palestinian Authority as well.
It will be an important documentary in highlighting the Palestinian plight, about elemental issues of self determination, of the desire for peace, and the never ending search for a resolution to the situation. This complex story follows Zakaria who's life embodies the tragedy and the paradox of the Occupation, he represents their past and is hopeful for their future. He wants peace with Israel, but peace cannot come without freedom; this must come before the other. He no longer puts his hope in a distressingly compromised two state solution but behind a movement for equal rights for all between the river Jordan and the Mediterranean sea and the desire to share the riches of a binational democracy.
You can visit the “Know Hope” website here:- http://www.knowhopefilm.com/
Link to website of The Freedom Theatre :- http://www.thefreedomtheatre.org/
Video on project :- https://player.vimeo.com/video/194693220
Here is link to crowdfunder page where you can help complete the film. In total, they need to raise around £75,000 to cover the entire completion costs, and a portion of this they are hoping to crowdfund :-
http://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/know-hope-film/
Tuesday, 3 January 2017
RIP John Berger- Goodbye to a beautiful mind.( 5/11/26 - 2/1/16)
The Booker prize-winning author and art critic, political radical, philosopher, poet, storyteller and one of the most influential intellectuals of our time John Berger has died at the age of 90.
The Marxist intellectual, whose pioneering 1972 book and subsequent four part BBC series, Ways of Seeing, brought a political perspective to art criticism, died at his home in the Paris suburb of Antony on Monday. He had been ill for about a year.
In one of
his final interviews with the Observer’s Kate Kellaway, giving his view,
among other things, on the bigger picture around the Brexit vote.“It seems to me that we have to
return, to recapitulate what globalisation meant, because it meant that
capitalism, the world financial organisations, became speculative and
ceased to be first and foremost productive, and politicians lost nearly
all their power to take political decisions – I mean politicians in the
traditional sense. Nations ceased to be what they were before.”
Born in Hackney, London, England, Berger served in the British Army from 1944
to 1946; he then enrolled in the Chelsea School of Art and the Central
School of Art in London.He began his career as a painter and exhibited work at a number
of London galleries in the late 1940s and
continued to paint throughout his career.
While teaching drawing (from 1948 to 1955), Berger became an art critic, publishing many essays and reviews in the New Statesman. His Marxist humanism and his strongly stated opinions on modern art made him a controversial figure early in his career. He titled an early collection of essays Permanent Red, in part as a statement of political commitment, and later wrote that before the Soviet Union achieved nuclear parity with the United States he had felt constrained not to criticize the former's policies; afterwards his attitude toward the Soviet state became considerably more critical.Throughout his long life, a vehement critic of capitalism, he kept challenging the way we see the world and how we think about it.
Berger was he author of art criticism, novels, poetry, screenplays and many other books He won the Booker Prize in 1972 for his novel G, and pledged to give half the prize money to the revolutionary American group the Black Panthers who were he said at the time “the black movement with the socialist and revolutionary perspective that I find myself most in agreement with in this country”..Berger did not just speak of the oppressed, but stood with them, talked with them, and documented their stories.. I've personally been reading recently his collaboration with photographer Jean Mohr, A Seventh Man which originally came out in 1975, that he produced with he rest of the money he was awarded at the Booker prize, in in which he explored he story of migrant workers who far from being on he margins of modern experience are central to it.
He consistently challenged traditional interpretations of art and society and connections between the two. Berger was not political in a reductionist or dogmatic way. For him, all great art, and all noble politics, is created as a response to life. The great masters don’t interest him simply because they are great. (Art collectors, even the most discriminating ones, he noted, have a “manic obsession to prove that everything he has bought is incomparably great and that anybody who in any way questions this is an ignorant scoundrel.”) Berger studied their visions to learn something about survival, not just his own, but the also the survival of a world where people can live free and meaningful lives.Berger retained a revolutionary urge to stand against authority. Forbidden by a private security guard to draw a sketch of one of the Christs in the National Gallery, he swore and was asked to leave the building, " I take it you know the way out, Sir” said the guard. Berger knows the way out and has plotted the route for all of us.
Goodbye to a beautiful mind.
Here is link to some films about him that came out last year :-
The Seasons in Quincy: Four Portraits of John Berger:
http://seasonsinquincy.com/
Obituary in the Guardian
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/02/john-berger-art-critic-and-author-dies-aged-90
The following is what John Berger had to say about poetry :-
"Poems, even when narrative, do not resemble stories. All stories are about battles, of one kind or another, which end in victory or defeat. Everything moves towards the end, when the outcome will be known.
Poems, regardless of any outcome, cross the battlefields, tending the wounded, listening to the wild monologues of the triumphant or the fearful. They bring a kind of peace. Not by anaesthesia or easy reassurance, but by recognition and the promise that what has been experienced cannot disappear as if it had never been. Yet the promise is not of a monument. (Who, still on a battlefield, wants monuments?) The promise is that language has acknowledged, has given shelter, to the experience which demanded, which cried out.
Poems are nearer to prayers than stories, but in poetry there is no one behind the language being prayed to. It is the language itself which has to hear and acknowledge. For the religious poet, the Word is the first attribute of God. In all poetry, words are a presence before they are a means of communication."
― John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos
John Berger - The Art of Looking (2016)
http://www.hddocumentary.com/bbc-john-berger-the-art-of-looking-2016/
Released on the occasion of his 90th birthday John Berger or the Art of Looking is an intimate portrait of the writer and art critic whose ground-breaking work on seeing has shaped our understanding of the concept for over five decades. The film explores how paintings become narratives and stories turn into images, and rarely does anybody demonstrate this as poignantly as Berger.This creative documentary takes a different approach to biography, with John Berger leading in his favourite role of the storyteller.
Sunday, 1 January 2017
Every day is precious
(happy new year/blwyddyn newydd da)
Every day is precious
in the cacophony of confusion
the decrepitude of our civilisation
as time moves on, now is the time
to unite
a chance to reach out, not to fight
comfort strangers in need of love
all of us the same, brittle as sand
in human form easily bruised
lost sometimes waiting to be found
shadows dancing among the flames
crying for help waiting to be released
spreading wings in shaking air
each day is a gift delivered
so keep inviting , keep giving support
keep defying the walls that divide
racism,bigotry, fascism and greed
in unity we can release comfort
to all that are in need
give the gift of compassion
with all our hearts and soul
reach out with mutual aid
share your love to the world
with hearts full of kindness
our journeys can be strong.
Saturday, 31 December 2016
Home - Warsan Shire ( b;1/8/88)
The following powerful poem which brings home the stark reality of the horrifying decisions refugee parents must make, is from the Kenyan-born Somali poet Warsan Shire who emigrated to the United Kingdom at the age of one. She became London’s first ever Young Poet Laureate, and became a voice for its marginalised people. Her verse forms the backbone of queen of pop Beyoncé’s recent album Lemonade..
I hope that 2017 will be a year of justice, a year of change, and that humanity keeps giving a warm welcome to all people depicted in the following poem. Let us not forget the many millions displaced, either as refugees, asylum seekers, migrants or internally displaced persons whose daily existence is one of struggle. Remember no one chooses the country they are born in to and no one deserves to be persecuted because of it, especially if the country they happen to be born into has been torn apart and become unsafe to live in because of war that is funded by our own governments.
As another year turns and the refugee crisis and this human tragedy continues unabated, let's keep commemorating the strength, courage and resilience of millions of refugees the world over.
Home
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
Friday, 30 December 2016
“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. " - Albert Einstein (14/3/1879 -18/4/55)
"A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
- Albert Einstein
As 2016 draws to a close I feel sadness at the passing of people I didn't know but who made my life brighter. And sadness too for people I didn't know whose awful and undeserved deaths made me question what world we're living in. No human should be bombed or drowned seeking safety.
Ultimately we are all an intrinsic part of this universe. We are all interconnected, and even though each of us separate individuals.We should appreciate the slender threads that hold us together.Through compassion we can share the ultimate and most meaningful embodiment of our emotional maturity. If we stop feeling for strangers we lose the energy to make the world better.
People were created to be loved. Things were created to be used. The reason the world is in chaos, is things are being loved and people are being used.
Happy New Year/flwyddyn newydd da
Tuesday, 27 December 2016
Cassetteboy remix the news: 2016 review special
Mashup artist Cassetteboy presents his take on one of the biggest news stories of the year, shining a humorous light on Brexit. The video lampoons a host of Conservative MPs – David Cameron, Boris Johnson, George Osborne, Michael Gove, Theresa May as well as Ukip’s Nigel Farage – all of whom played a major role in the EU referendum.
Monday, 26 December 2016
Careless Whispers
( For George, for anyone
an evening doodle. )
We pause, slip and flounder
worry about paradoxical situations
some of us even consider turning back
but it's far too late now
eternity's drunken power
keeps on returning
to sanctify thirsty lips
liberate the throat
circle the pulse of reason
allow careless whispers to ripple
fill the earth with love
until outstretched fingers
reach their limit
stumble into another light
stretch out among the stars
on dance floors of time
where the music never dies.
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