Autumn Rhythm

          
                         Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm; 1950 

Crossing the Bridge of sighs,
I return home to write,
to fill in blank pages,
with vapours of love and rage,
shadows pass, intervening with time,
holding on and letting go,
in moments of silent whisper.
Winter wraps around my breath,
drifting over autumns flight,
dreams drift, vast and unbound,
releasing immaculate flames of hope.
The daily surge of passion,
undertakes its sustaining journey,
as meanings wake from cavernous sleep,
relinquishing visions of intent and faith,
into the lifeblood of growing destination,
and the kiss of tomorrow's promise.

Bonfire of Austerity

I know that I'm not the only one effected by depression, but on this day November the 5th, 2013, at least I am safe in the warm environs of a West Walian library. But I really wish I could have mustered up some energy, and taken to the streets, to join other people who really have had enough, as this manufactured austerity rings and their darkness implodes, I commend people now full of indignation, burning bright with rage.
Today hundreds of anti-austerity campaigners will converge on Westminster Bridge, to express anger at the the failed government  economic policies. To protest against the Tory's continued assault on the very fabric of the state, and on the most vulnerable members of society, in particularly the poor, the ill, the unemployed and the disabled.
Parallell protests will be taking place all across Britain as part of the 'Bonfire of Austerity' which was initially set up  by the Peoples Assembly Against Austerity initiativehttp://thepeoplesassembly.org.uk/. These actions are supported by more than 25 groups including trade unions and pressure groups , and will see giant energy bills set on fire to highlight the growing living costs and falling wages which are now the sharpest in Europe.
The mainstream media will probably avoid reporting it, but the spirit of dissent lives on. People raging with defiance against a government that simply does not give a ****.
Anonymous are also getting involved with their own 'Million Mask March' campaign http://millionmaskmarch.org/locations. Am sure it will be a blast.

 Gil Scot Herons might have  said 'The Revolution will not be televised', but enough is enough the people cry, remember, remember the 5th of November.

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Anna Kavan (10/4/01 -5/12/68) - On Truth

Recently discovered the work of Anna Kavan. Born Helen Woods, in Cannes, France. Kavan was the main character in her novel Let Me Alone.
A lifelong heroin addict she adopted the name after a spell in  asylums in Switzerland and England.
As well as being  a writer, she was also a talented painter and interior designer.
Her early writings were fairly conventional, but after changing her name, her works took on a more transformative air. Apparently she also used to daily take amphetimines whilst writing.
Her books seem to weave between a fevered imagination that finds their way into her often unclassifiable books, that are  filled with hauntingly surreal magical landscapes. They contain an otherworldly strangeness that I like a lot.
She was to become an influence on writers as diverse as Doris Lessing, J.G. Ballard, Anais Nin and Jean Rhys.
She was sadly  found dead in her London home clutching a syringe. If you have not read her previously, I strongly recommend you checking her out.

Stark Vision - detail from self-portrait by Anna Kavan

The following is an extract from her 1947 book ( a classic in my humble opinion) Sleep Has  His house.

' TRUTH, it's everything. The man who said, What is truth?  certainly touched on a big subject. The  truth of the matter is that there's far too much truth in the world. The world, from whichever you observe it, is altogether too full of truth. It isn't easy to recognise this truth in the first place, but it's impossible ever to ignore it once it's been grasped.
Every single possibility or impossibility is true somewhere to someone at some time. It's true that the earth is as round as an orange and as flat as a pankcake. It's true that the wicked island goddess Ragda is a good goddess when she takes off her mask. Black magic on top, white magic underneath. That proves that black's whit, doesn't it?
It's true that the idea odf America is a bright and shining thing in the mind. It's true that the idea of America is a crude and brutal land inhabited by adolescents and gangsters.
Defeatism's true; war's true. So's idealism and the hope of a better society. You pay your money and you take your choice. Civilisation's gone down the drain. Utopia's just round the corner.
It's true that civilization marches on: atomic energy plus universal war. The Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah; H.M.V, recording. That's a truth, although universal war. There's the truth that you go to bed with and the truth that wakes you up at three o'clock in the morning when the tigers are jumping up and down on the roof and eternity is flapping at the earth like somebody shaking a rug. the truth of loving and hating, being an extrovert and an introvert, a success and a failure, travelling all over the world, living your whole life in one place, having security, accepting all risks. Then there's the truth that you find with the dirty glasses stacked in the sink. That's a different sort of truth.
Books continue to be written in one truth and read in another. The radio announces various kinds of truth to suit every listener. Atomic warfare is true and so is the Sermon ofon the Mount. Truth is everywhere, in eveything, all the time. That's why it's true. It's true that all this is obvious and has been said often before. That truth's as true as any other truth too.'

 

Primo Levi (31/7/19 - 11/4/87) - If This is a Man

( dedicated this  new year morning to Ian Duncan Smith) 

You who live safe
In your warm houses
you who find, returning in the evening,
Hot food and friendly faces:

Consider if this is a man
Who works in the mud,
Who does not know peace,
Who fights for a scrap of bread,
Who dies because of a yes or a no.
Consider if this is  a woman
Without hair and without name,
With no more strength to remember,
Her eyes empty and her womb cold
Like a frog in winter.

Meditate that this came about:
I commend these words to you.
Carve them in your hearts
At home, in the street,
Going to bed, rising;
Repeat them to your children.

Or may your house fall apart,
May illness impede you,
May your children turn their faces from you.

The Presence

Today marks Halloween, Samhain, All Hallows, All Saints or Winters Eve,The Festival of the Dead. There are several explanations for its origin, one being the Roman festival of the dead 'Parentalia', but another origin, not necessarily exclusive from the Roman one, is from the ancient Celtic old day of Samhein (sa-wain). and most of the traditions that we celebrate on Halloween have its origins in Celtic/Gaelic Culture.
Samhein, which means November in Irish, was the end of summer and the harvest season in the Celtic calender. It was the last great feast held outdoors before the cold months to come. The last night of October also marked the ancient Celts New Years Eve. Marking the end of the summer and the beginning of Winter.
The Celts  believed that on Samhein, the veil between the living and the dead was dropped for one day, and the spirits of the living could intermingle with the spirits of the dead. The spirits that could now cross into the land of the kiving were dangerous, and often played tricks both playful and malevolent on theliving. In an effort to stop those spirits from meddling with the dead and playing tricks on them, the living would dress up in costumes and  masks in order to fool the spirits into thinking that they were one of them. This is where the idea of trick and treating comes from.
It was I guess the Christian religion  that replaced the early origins with it's own traditions and celebrations  with Pope Gregory 11 moving the christian holiday of 'all hollows Eve' from May 13th to November 1st  to coincide with the feast of Samhein, to downplay the festivals pagan roots, but in many parts of the world on this night special cakes and food are prepared for the dead and remember departed loved ones.
Over the years we have ended up with the modern commercialised, corporate version that is now known as halloween. But Samhein and its energy has bever fully died out and still burns bright.
The following is a poem that I have composed to mark the occasion. Happy Samhein have a magical time.

The Presence

There was a sprinke of magic  in the air,
drifting on a pitch black night,
as the wind hummed and cried,
bending and twisting,
its shadows and shapes.

We heard a knock,
rattling on the door,
we  slipped outside,
into the dark,
but no one was there,
just a cigarette,
smouldering on fallen autumn leaves.

A gust rose up,
a lost soul perhaps?
looking for shelter,
then we heard a primeaval roar,
its siren releasing,
an enticing whistle,
that connected us,
to the evenings presence,
peculiar figments,
poking at logic.

But we'd had enough of trickery,
it was getting to late to fathom,
we kissed goodnight,
sailed upstairs,
to the other side of the moon,
where we concealed our mysteries,
buried our illusion,
beyond the dance of spirits,
whirling through the cosmos.

Stop the gas and electricity rip-off

With news that energy companies have claimed  they should not face a windfall tax because  their £3.74 billion in profits are not " particularly big"  leaves me mightily pissed off to say the least. I at least have the comfort of libraries,( for now!) but  with soaring energy prices expected to kill at least 200 pensioners per day over Winter, this greed simply has to stop.
The tories  are sleeping comfortably as we freeze, we need to stop their coziness with corporate juggernauts and tax these companies now. Enough is enough.
The recent hikes in customer bills really has to stop,  hopefully todays  Energy and Climate Change Committee  will achieve something, but I am deeply sceptical.
Anyway here is a link to the big sixes recent profits, executive pay and bonuses.

http://www.leftfootforward.org/2013/10/bonuses-and-executive-pay-at-the-big-six-energy-firms/

Our current high energy prices are one of the most scandulous things goin on in this country at the moment, and has to be stopped, as people are left shivering, stuck between eating and keeping warm. It is also unbelievable that our utilities are no longer publicly owned.
We are being ripped off, it's  as simple as that the energy companies and this government deserverdly need to be demonised. We must keep up the pressure.
I urge people to sign the following petition.

Stop the gas and electricity rip-off

http://www.38degrees.org.uk/page/s/big-six-energy-petition#petition

 

Transitory ( a poem for Lou Reed 2/3/42 - 27/10/13 R.I.P)

White light, white heat
And another voice flys,
Yesterday the wind twisted
And velvet dreams
Scattered over New York streets.

Volatile tonque defused
A bright intensity,
Blurred into time
The universe shifted
Its pale blue eyes.

The black angel's 

Death song sang.

Goodnight ladies

Waiting for its man.
The satellite of love,

Hanging 'round
Walking on the wild side.

There's a bit of magic in everything
And then some loss to even things out,
After drinking alchemy at 80 mph
Another poet sleeps, does  not compromise,
Slipping slowly away, falling into our memory
To lanquidly whisper, over all tomorrow's parties,
Painting crooked lines from drifting clouds

Laden with chords of rebel attitude.

                                                                                                                                           

Dylan Thomas (27/10/14 -9/11/53) - Poem in October /

Today, the late great Dylan Thomas would have turned 99. I have always been a great  admirer of his life and his unfailing commitment  to his craft, that continue to inspire. Today I thought I'd celebrate his birth, with  one  of his fine poems. Raise a glass and enjoy. We will be hearing a lot more about him next year, what with it being the centenary of this legends birth.

Poem in October

 It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbours wood
     And the mussel pooled and the heron
               Priested shore
          the morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
        Myself to set foot
             That second
  In the still sleeping town and set forth

 My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
    Above the farms and the white horses
                And I rose
       in rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
      Over the border
          And the gates
  Of the town closed as the town awoke.


 A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
   Blackbirds and the sun of October
            Summery
       On the hill's shoulder,
Here we found climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where i wandered and listened
      To the rain wringing
           Wind blow cold
  In the wood faraway under me.

  Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea the wet church the size of a snail
    With its horns through mist and the castle
              Brown as owls
        But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
         There could I marvel
              My birthday
 Away but the weather turned around.

It  turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
     Streamed agan a wonder of summer
              With apples
         Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
          Through the parables
              Of sun light
  And the legends of the green chapels


  And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
     These were the woods the river and the sea
               Where a boy
        In the listerning
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide
       And the mystery
            Sang alive
   Still in the water and singingbirds.

   And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
    Joy of the long dead child sang burning
               in the sun
        It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there in the summer moon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
          O may my hear's truth
              Still be sung
  On this high hill in a year's turning.

1945




  

Russell Brand talks revolution with Jeremy Paxman

I like this a lot, currently goin viral,
and here is a link to the article  that sparked the interview, We no longer have the luxury of tradition http://www.newstatesman.com/politics/2013/10/russell-brand-on-revolution . I am the first to admit, that I have been more than mildly irritated by Mr Brand in the past, but am liking his drift into a more serious direction have always been partial to a bit of Zenarchy. Mr Brand came across as a man of principle,with what sounded to me like genuine anger, and was more than a match for Mr Paxman, which is always a pleasure to see. Hat's off to him, and power to the people. The old certainties are fading fast.

Storyville - Pussy Riot - A Punk Prayer/ Pussy Riot member moved to new Russian prison Colony.

Watched the above Monday evening, Sundance award-winning documentary which tells the compelling story of how a group of young, feminist punk rokers known as Pussy Riot have captured the world' attention by protesting against Putin's Russia. Through first-hand interviews with band members their fsmilies and the defense team, and exclusive footage of the trial, it highlights the forces that transformed these women from playful political activists to modern-day icons.
In early 2012 , members of the collective donned their colourful trademark balaclavas and paricipated in a 40-second 'punk prayer protest' on the altar of Moscow's cathedral. Once arrested, Nadia, Masha and Katia  were accused of religious hatred in a trial  that triggered protests and arrests in Russia and caused uproar around the world. The film reveals the personal motivesand courage of the women behind the balaclava and exposes the state of Russian justice through the courts final verdict.

Meanwhile it has been reported by Russian media  that Nadehda Tolokonnikova, who is serving a two-year sentence for her part in the anti-kremlin stunt, has been moved to another prison, but the defence has no information on her current whereabouts. Her lawyer told the RAPSI news agency on Monday, " Nadya is no longer in the prison colony. Investigative procedures were planned for today. I arrived, and the investigator told me that Tolokonnikova was not there; I was in shock. He was told that she had been transferred, but where to, we don't know," Khrunova  said.

It is believed she is being transported to the Penal Colony in Nizhny Tagil, in the Sverlovsk Territory, not Siberia but still almost 1800 KM from her familylawyers and supporters. Tolokonnikova  was hospitalised on October 1 after staging a nine-day hunger strike in protest against prison conditions. Last month  Tolokonikova, 23 published a letter that described in graphic detail the brutal conditions inside prison colony IK-14 in Mordovia, where she had been serving since after the end of her trial in August last year. She alleged prisoners work up to 17 hours a day for six or seven days a week, are deprived of toilet access and washing facilities, and are subject to regular beatings. http://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/sep/23/pussy-riot-hunger-strike-nadezhda-tolokonnikova.
Her jailed fellow Pussy Riot member, Maria Alekhina has withdran her early release plea in solidarity with her bandmate.
Let us  remember that the members of Pussy Riot were punished  by a draconian authority, purely on politically motivated grounds. Their right to free speech curtailed, and they remain prisoners of conscience.
Hopefully they will remain brave and strong and are not simply forgotten, and the world continues to demand their absolute freedom.

FREE PUSSY RIOT