Sunday, 5 May 2013

Bobby Sands(9/3/54 -5/5/81) - The Rhythm Of Time, his spirit lives on



On this day in  1981, a 27 year old elected member of the British House of Parliament, starved to death in a prison in Northern Ireland, after 66 days on hunger strike. Bobby Sands was the first of ten men to die, all of them jailed members of Irish Republican organisations. Seven were from the I.R.A and three from I.N.L.A ( The Irish National Liberation Army).
Bobby Sands was born into a working class Roman Catholic family in 1954. A figure of contention to this day, to some a hero of the people, to others a perpetrator and supporter of terrorism and violence.
Let us remember though that Ireland was  very different  then,to what it is today. Growing up  Bobby Sands was forced to make a choice  between a status quo under which he saw his community persecuted, intimidated, and forced out of their homes by loyalist mobs. Like many young people of the time, he chose the path of resistance and joined the I.R.A. Often when a community is under a cloud of oppression,it's citizens sometimes do not passively accept their lot, but choose to fight back.
At the time native Irish people in Northern Ireland were deprived of basic civil rights, could not participate in elections, unless they owned a home. Daily many young men like Bobby Sands were harassed and persecuted, under a continual state of siege. Such was the climate and circumstances of the times that led Bobby Sands to later write ' I have seen to many homes wrecked, fathers and sons arrested, friends murdered. Too much shooting and blood, most of it on our own people. I joined the I.R.A.
In 1973  when he was 17 he was sentenced to five years imprisonment and released in 1976. In 1976 he was rearrested and charged with the involvement in the bombing of a furniture company. He was never actually convicted of this charge, the presidary judge stated that there was no evidence to support the assertion that Sands had taken part in the bombing. After the bombing, Sands and at least 5 others were alleged to have been involved in a gun battle with the Royal Ulster Constabulary, although he was not convicted due to lack of evidence. Later on the revolvers used in the attack was found in a car in which Sands had been travelling.In 1977 prosecutors charged him with possession of the revolver from which bullets were fired at the R.U.C after the bombing.
After his trial and conviction he was sentenced to 14 years imprisonment within H.M Prison Maze, also known as Long Kesh in the notorious H. Blocks.

Aerial Picture of Long Kesh Prison,
showing the H.Blocks.


In  prison he was beaten regularly and was often in solitary confinement. The conditions he and fellow prisoners were held in were brutal and barbaric. Here he joined other prisoners in the blanket protests, which ran from March 1978 until March 1981, here  they engaged in a  slop out protest, which had begun when the prison authorities in an attempt to break their will refused the prisoners access to toilets and washing facilities, and forced the prisoners to live in filthy conditions.
During this period Sands immersed himself in books and the politics of liberation, and became an advocate for prisoners rights, calling for reform.
Beginning on the first of March 1981, Sands led nine other republican prisoners in the H.Block section of the Maze Prison on a hunger strike that would last until death. They had 5 demands.

1. The right not to wear a prison uniform.

2. The right not to do prison work.

3. The right of free association and to organise educational and recreational pursuits.

4. The right to one visit, one letter and one parcel per week.

5. Full restoration of remission lost through protest.


The Citizen - Richard Hamilton


The British Government under Margaret Thatcher failed to meet these demands, and were increasingly at loggerheads with thousands of people who supported their struggle, and the growing international condemnation of the British Governments  unwillingness to compromise.
On April 9th , 1981, Sands was elected as an Anti H-Block/ Armagh Political Prisoner M.P for Ennniskillen, later immortalised in the Christy Moore Song ' The Peoples Own M.P'.

Christy Moore - The People'sOwn M.P

His death 25 days later saw an eruption of anger on the streets of Belfast, with over 100,000 people lining the strreets to attend his funeral. Unfortunately he was not to be the last to die. By August 1981, another nine men had died, they were :- Francis Hughes, Raymond Mc Creesh, Patsy O'Hara, JoeMcDonnel, Martin Hurson, Kevin Lynch, Kieran Doherty, Thomas McElwee and Michael Devine.
After these tragic events the Maze became an important platform for the peace process, when both Republican and Loyalist  prisoners got behind calls for ceasefires and political negotiations. For many this history still carries much powerful emotion.

Bobby Sands Funeral Cortege


On Saturday 3 October 1981 the prisoners finally ended their hunger strike, after a marathon 267 days.
Although Margaret Thatcher claimed victory, her government conceded most of the hunger strikers demands shortly after the protests had ended. Even Thatcher, was moved to say later that ' it was possible to admire the courage of Sands and other strikers who died.' Nelson Mandela too  said he was 'directly influenced by Sands bravery, streets were named after him across the globe and songs and poems were written in dedication to him.
Whilst in prison Sands became a writer both of journalism and poetry - being published in the Irish Republican newspaper 'An Phoblact,' under the pen name 'Macella' his sisters name. These writings in minute handwriting, were smuggled out  and  still ring clearly today, asserting the spirit of freedom and injustice, that had been his inspiration.
I include a few of them below.

The Rhythm of Time

There's an inner thing in every man
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has witnessed the blows of a million years.
And will do so to the end

It was born when time did not exist
And it grew up out of life
It cut down evil;s strangling vines
Like a smashing searing knife.

It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.

It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were at a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.

It died in Rome by lion and sword.
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was 'Spartacus'
Along with the Appian Way.

It marched with the Wat the Tyler's poor.
And frightened lord and king.
And it was emblazoned in their deatlhy stare.
As e'er a living thing.

It smiled in holy innocence.
Before conquistadors of old.
So meek and tame and unaware.
Of the deathly power of gold.

It burst through pitiful Paris streets.
And stormed the old Bastille.
And marched upon the serpent's head.
And crushed it 'neath its heel.

It died in blood in Buffalo Plains.
And starved by moons of rain.
It's heart was buried in Wounded knee.
But it will come to rise again.

It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes.
As it was knell upon the ground.
And it died in great defiance.
As they coldly shot it down.

It lies in the hearts of heroes dead.
It screams in tyrants eyes.
It has reached the peak of mountain high.
It comes searing 'cross the skies.

It lights the dark of this prison cell.
It thunders forth its might.
It is the undauntable thought,my friend.
That thought that says 'I'm right'.

Stars of Freedom

The stars of freedom light the skies.
Uncrowned queens of yesteryear.
They were born 'mid shades of royal hue'.
From mystic wombs they did appear.

Silver gems that pierce the dark.
Heavenly virgins in disguise.
That stir the heart with love and flame.
And light great flames in all men's eyes.

Oh! Star of beauty in nightly hue.
You have inspired bondsmen to kings.
And lit the ways of despairing folk.
From dreams to living things.

In the seas of time you float serene.
Oh! silver stars of nations born.
And you draw a tear to free man's eye.
Through dungeon bars forlorn.

Oh! star of Erin, queen of tears.
Black clouds have beset thy birth.
And your people die like morning stars.
That your light may grace the earth.

But this Celtic star will be born.
And ne'er by mystic means.
But by a nation sired in freedom's light.
And not in ancient dreams.


Modern Times

It is said we live in modern times.
In the civilised year of 'seventy nine.
But when I look around, all I see.
Is modern torture, pain and hypocrisy.

In modern times little children die.
They starve to death, but who dares ask why?
And little girls without attire.
Run screaming, napalmed, through the nights afire.

In the gutter lies the black man, dead.
And where the oil flows blackest, the street runs red.
And there was he who was born and came to be.
But lived and died without liberty.

As the bureaucrats, spectators and presidents alike.
Pin on their dirty, stinking, happy smiles tonight.
The lonely prisoner will cry out from within this tomb.
And tomorrow's wretch will leave it's mother's womb!


Bobby Sands also famously wrote the lyrics to this song, immortalised by Christy Moore.

Christy Moore - Back home in Derry


Long after Bobby Sands death and that of his fellow hunger strikers, their are echoes of their stance today, in the recent struggles of Palestinian prisoners who have used the same tactic in protest against their illegal detention by Israel in acts of non violent resistance, and the prisoners who are currently engaged in their own hunger strike in Guantanamo.
I hope that it is possible that they do not follow in the footsteps of Bobby Sands and his comrades, with the conclusion of their actions ending tragically with loss of lives.

Further Reading:-

Writings from Prison - Bobby Sands (1998)

Prison Poems - Bobby Sands (1981) 

Nothing but an unfinished Song - The Life and times of Bobby Sands
-Denis O'Hearn

I would also recommend the powerful 2008 film 'Hunger' by Steve McQueen which dramatises events in the Maze Prison, in the period leading up to the hunger strike and Sand's death.

http://www.bobbysandstrust.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobby_Sands

Bobby Sands - Rhythm of Time

a poem from an Irish hero 




Saturday, 4 May 2013

Salience


Word of the day - salience.
Salience means importance. Your birthday will always be a date that jumps out at you with a lot of salience importance.

Origin:
mid 16th century (as a heraldic term)
Salience comes from the Latin salient, meaning 'to leap.'
from the verb salire.
The noun dates from the early 19th century.

Something with salience leaps our at you because it is unique or special in some way.
This could be an issue - how the hell have UKIP got so many bloody votes, or why is the N.H.S being dismantled!
It jumps out at you as remarkable or special,
it's characterized by a quality of salience.

Synonyms:

sallency, strikingness

Adjective:
prominent, conspicuous, or striking; a salient feeling.

Types:

conspicuousness
the state of being conspicuous
profile, visibility
degree of exposure to public notice
low profile
a stater of low visibility in which public notice is avoided

Type of :
prominence
the state of being prominent: widely known or eminent.

Given the salience of this, it is of some importance to teach ourselves to make distictions.

Salience a great word to know.

Friday, 3 May 2013

Pete Seeger (b 3/5/19) - How Can I keep from Singing




For many years now, Pete Seeger  has communicated, entertained, campaigned, torn down barriers , torn down wwalls. A fearless, tireless campaigner for social justice, peace and freedom. From the Civil Rights movement, anti McCarthyism to resistance to fascism and the wars in Vietnam, the Middle Age , and the freedom of the Palestinian  people to the Occupy movements, Pete Seeger has stood proudly in solidarity with them all. 94 today still active, still keeping the fires burning.
Happy Birthday Pete, an inspiration for us all.

How Can I keep From Singing

My life flows in endless song
Above earth's lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing
It sounds an echoe in my soul
How can I keep from singing?

While through the tempest loudly roars.
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though theough the darkness 'round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble sick with fear
And hear their death knell ringing.
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging.
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing.




Thursday, 2 May 2013

Charity appeal on behalf of Atos


If everyone sent a parcel by freepost, including an Argos or an old phone book, the postage would normally cost £9 - this works out at £9333,696 postage cost, nearly £1million that we would normally have to pay. But Atos have provided a freepost address. So do your best.
Joiin the Peaceful protest with Anonymous - it will cost you nothing only a bit of time... Simply follow this statement by anonymous!

In econonomic hard times - please give whatever you can to help ATOS who are in such desperate need of Argos catalogues or old phone books;)

Parcels can be senr 'Free of Charge'

Atos
Wyman Dillon Research
Medical Services Customer Survey
FREEPOST (BS57707)
Bristol
BS35 3YA

Monday, 29 April 2013

Take action and demand justice for the victims of Bangladesh building collapse




Over 200 people have now been killed in the collapse of a building in Bangladesh which housed garment factories making clothes for Primark, Matalan, Mango and other major brands.
Primark, Matalan and Mango addicted to profit , have been profiting  from the backs of workers in factories like these for years, and must now be made responsible for their criminal failure to ensure workplace safety and prevent disasters  like this happening in the future. They must be made to pay full compensation, including their lost earnings, to the families who have lost relatives and the workers injured in this crime of capitalism.
This tragedy has at least bought to the worlds attention, the people who feed the consumer habit for cheap and disposable clothes.
Once again it is the case of profits, consumption and capitalism over human lives and basic principles of humanity and fundamental human rights.

Take action now and demand an end to these avoidable tragedies

http://waronwant.org/overseas-work/sweatshops-and-plantations/17864-take-action


Also on May Day: Remember the Dhaker workers and all those killed by capitalism

http://indymedia.org.uk/en/2013/04/508998.html








Sunday, 28 April 2013

The Devil's Tree, Eglwys Rhos, near Llandudno



'At the corner of the first turning after passing the village of Llanrhos, on the left hand side, is a withered oak tree, called by the natives of those parts the Devil's Tree, and it was thought to be haunted, and therefore the young and timide were afraid to pass it of a dark night.
Its bad reputation was greatly increased by an occurence that happened there to Cadwaladr Williams, a shoemaker, who lived at Llansantffraid Glan Conway.
This shoemaker sometimes refreshed himself too freely before starting homewards from Llandudno, and he was in the habit of turning into the public house at Llanrhos to gain courage to pass the Devil's Tree.
One Saturday night instead of quietly passing this tree on the other side, he walked fearlesslly up to it, and defied the Evil One to appear if he was there. No sooner had he uttered the defiant wordsthan something fell from the tree, and lit upon his shoulders, and grasped poor Cadwaladr's neck with  a grip of iron. He fought with the incubus savagery to get rid of it, but all his exertions were in vain, and so he was obliged to proceed on jhis journey with this fearful thing clinging to him, which became heavier every step he took. At last, thouroughly exhausted, he came to Towyn, and more dead than alive, he reached a friend's door and knocked, and oh, what pleasure, before the door was opened the weight on his back had gone, but his friend knew who it was that Cadwaladr had carried from the Devil's Tree.'

From Welsh Folklore by Rev.Elias Owen, M.A., F.S.A., 1887


Saturday, 27 April 2013

Curriculam Vitae / Hidden


Curriculam Vitae

Can answer phones,
cold callers get greeted,
with hardcore punks explosive throb,
am a friend of tangled daydreams,
the soaring thrust of revolution,
the sounds of raging possibility,
the language of survival,
spirits that shatter division,
the sweetness of peace and unity,
the struggle for another world.
Can be found after sunset
under shadowy moonlight,
where I throw words together,
following an extemity called hope.


Hidden

I avoid the attic,
it's where the answers lay forgotten,
it's in the garden,
where andrenaline kicks,
headfirst into the flames,
unbuckled brain,
spills out contents,
as highs and hungovers are mixed up.
Read books, play music,
with shaky hands,
perform delicate tricks,
turn the pages,
as tendrils hook,
listen to the rattling noise,
on a high moon tide.
Blinking, lie flat on my back,
on a hillside above green fields,
near out croppings of grey granite,
the steam bubbling merrily around,
follow dreams, deep and fathomless,
work for love, that shows no profit.



'

Thursday, 25 April 2013

Atos Healthcare : The Tory Capability Assessment Form

 
Meanwhile in all seriousness,  lets remind ourselves that Atos are paid £110m a year to carry out the assessments for the DWP and a further £60m of public money is being spent on administering appeals, because so many decisions have been contested. The British Medical Association has described the assessments as 'not fit for purpose',
Many people  have dropped down dead within three months of being told they are fit for work, in a humiliating and demeaning process that seems to be making sick people even sicker.
Lets not forget it was the Labour Party that first  introduced this process. A stressful and gruelling process as anyone who has gone through it will know. The scale of anxiety caused can  be very daunting.
Here's a link to the atos victims group, who tell us how it really is.
.http://atosvictimsgroup.co.uk

Plus

Fraudster Atos fined for supplying fake crip detectors for use in fitness for work tests
http://tompride.wordpress.com/2013/04/24/fraudster-atos-fined-for-supplying-fake-crip-detectors-for-use-in-fitness-for-work-tests



Wednesday, 24 April 2013

Samer Issawi : Victorious


Good news, in what is being considered a major victory against administrative detention, Samer Issawi has accepted an agreement negotiated by Israel and Palestinian officials to end his hunger strike. The Palestinian Prisoner Organisation  stated yesterday that Issawi will serve eight months for the alleged violations of his bail conditions, after which he will be free to return to Jerusalem.
His legendary hunger strike became a rallying cry for Palestinians who protested on his behalf, seeing  this 33 year old from Jerusalem as a symbol of their struggle. Samer had been on hunger strike for over 200 days, refusing food and recieving only infussions of water, vitamins and minerals, he was taken to hospital in recent weeks as his condition deteriorated.
By using peaceful resistance he has been able to force Israel to recognise Palestinians legitimate demands for freedom and dignity, which will open the door for other prisoners who have been arrested indefinitely.
The agreement has defused a tense situation, which  has seen weeks of street protests, that had also raised fears of an explosion of broader unrest if the prisoner had died.
He is expected to be released in December of this year.

With  his head held up high, his empty stomach defined and redefined the word  freedom, in his search for dignity.

http://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/samer-issawis-hunger-speech-to-israelis.html

Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Richie Havens ( 21/1/41 - 22/4/13) R.I.P - I was Educated By Myself/ Freedom


Ah he sang from  the soul, he sang from the heart, with  his soft tremulous distinctive voice and playing, he lifted us too, with his  forward thinking and his messages of peace and love.

 Richie Havens R.I.P.



I Was Educated By Myself - Richie Havens



I can't buy the lie and it don't matter
Even though I try to keep my health
It all seems the same such a silly game
Played by silly fools who don't even follow their own rules.

But oh, when the sunshine follows me around
Lifts my feet and takes me from the ground
High enough ro see the shelf
And know that I was educated by myself

I have seen the streets groaning, not battered
Though amongst us all, we kept our wealth
And though the rain goes pitter-patter,
it don't change the pain that we all felt

But oh, when the sunshine follows us around
Lifts our feet and takes us from the ground,
High enough for us to tell
That we were educated by ourselves

It's a simple dream, a common pattern
A universal scheme for us to sell
And though it's a long, long way between Mars and Saturn,
But right here on Earth, we know so well
That all we need is sunshine on the ground
And smiles and smiles from frown to frown
Just enough for us to yell
That we were educated by ourselves.

Freedom

(Richie Havens at Woodstock)



Freedom, freedom
Freedom, freedom
Freedom,freedom
Freedom, freedom

Sometimes I feel klike a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a mtherless child
A long way from home

Freedom, freedom
Freedom, freedom
Freedom, freedom
Freedom, freedom

Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone
Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone
Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone
A long, long wayway from home

Clap your hands, clap your hands
Clap your hands, clap your hands
Clap your hands, clap your hands
Clap your hands, clap your hands
Hey, yeah

I got a telephone in my bosom
And I can call him up on my heart
I got a telephone in my bosom
And I can call him up from my heart

When I need my brother, brother
When I need my mother, mother



Monday, 22 April 2013

Happy Earth Day on Lenin's birthday

               
                          Earth Day,celebrated  today
                          on the occasion of Vladimir's birthday.
                          not sure why, never thought Lenins brand of thought
                          could be identified with modern ecology,
                          merely a conicidence of creation, and spin
                          not the rock though, across the fields, the smallest
                          minority on earth is still the individual,
                          earth first, the message for today
                          we'll strip and mine and plunder
                          the other planets later.

                          ' To rely upon conviction
                          devotion and other excellent,
                          spiritual qualities -  that is not to be
                          taken seriously in politics,
                          It is true that liberty is precious-
                          so precious that it must be retained,
                          authority poisons everybody who takes
                          authority on himself.'
                          Thanks for that comrade Illyich,
                          much prefer your words today,
                          than Peter Brabeck, from Nestle,
                          who has  just recently said,
                          'the idea that water is a human right,
                          is extreme.'

                          But sorry, comrade
                          today the earth is still divided,
                          the rich still steal more than they deserve           
                          I much  prefer  the words of Gerald Winstanley
                          the earth a common treasury, for all to share
                          as the hours pass, the earth still needs, feeding,
                          hope reflected in the tears,we and she sheds
                          waiting for another chance,in the silence between breathing,
                                             
                          The fabric of existence, woven
                          on latitudes and longtitudes of absence,
                          delivering ,a palpable beat of the heart
                          with each mornings blooming roar,
                          transmits its message,on the underside of leafs
                          feeding our sensations, driving our emotions
                          more than just a dream ,it's sensation is clear
                          spinning on it's wheel, on the precipice of catastrophe
                          with tears in eye,still try to celebrate what I hold dear.

Sunday, 21 April 2013

Thich Nhat Hanh (b.11/11/26) If You are a Poet




                                             
                              ' If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud
                                floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will
                                    be no rain, without rain, the trees cannot grow; and
                                     without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is
                                      essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not
                                          here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either.       

                                                    ( for my grandson
                                                     on his first birthday, 
                                                     heddwch/peace..)                 

Friday, 19 April 2013

What If We All Stopped Paying Taxes - Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings


I was talking to a friend of mine
Said he don't want no war no more
They're building bombs while are schools are falling
Tell me what in hell we're paying taxes for

What if we stopped paying taxes?
Now, what if we all stopped paying taxes?
Stop paying taxes y'all

Now tell  me who's gonna buy their bombs
Their tanks, their planes and all their guns
Well, tell me who's gonna pay for their wars
If we all get together and cut their funds

Listen peopl, listen to what I got to say
What if we all stopped paying taxes?
Now what if we all stopped paying taxes?
Stop paying taxes y'all

There's something on my mind and I think I've got to let it out

They may take nothing from us
That we aint ready ro give
How can we talk about the price of gas
When they're stealing our brothers and sisters right to live

What if we all stopped paying taxes?
Now, what if we all stopped paying taxes?
Stop paying taxes y'all

What if we all stopped paying taxes?
Now what if we all stopped paying taxes?
Sstop paying taxes y'all

http://stopwar.org.uk/
 

Thursday, 18 April 2013

Steps



As Big Ben stood silent,it felt out of sync,
too many things are happening at the moment,
the spirit of meaness rustling in the breeze,
but if you like choreography, carry on regardless,
follow restrictions, orders metered out.
In the embers, no happy ending,
in the end what unites us, is what divides,
persistent barks that light tomorrows fuse,
and if you like surprises, look away,
                                        close your eyes,
because in serious times, uncertainty,
becomes jagged and dangerous.
The sky of our hearts,always glimmers,
beyond the cages,and the shackles ,
that are provided,
moving fast,in rythmic pulse,
beyond the ideologies of ruin,
waiting is a game the patient play,
some of us choking now,
don't have time to stand in line,
twitching behind our curtains,
our hearts sing,
listing our intentions,
unpeeling the spin of ugliness,
we write messages, that dream of escape,
on building blocks of longing.
Moving on, moving on,
invisible branches taking root,
past the slurry of memory,
we take back from yesterday,
what has been stolen,
resiliance swims against the odds.

Wednesday, 17 April 2013

Palestinian Prisoners Day






Today marks Palestinian Prisoners Day, a day that also serves to mark the ongoing perserverence of the Palestinian peoples relentless struggle for peace, justice, freedom and dignity. It is also used to
to illustrate the Israeli army's excessive and often lethal use of force against peaceful and unarmed demonstrators throughout the West Bank and Gaza .
One Palestinian prisoner Samer Isaawi  who I written about previously has been on hunger strike in an Israeli detention centre for 270 days, one of the longest hunger strikers in history. He has refused Israeli offers to be exiled to Gaza and other UN countries, firmly insisting that he will be either released to his home in Jerusalem or starve to death.


                                                 Samer Issawi

Palestinian Prisoner Day was founded to remind the world of the thousands of Palestinian political prisoners imprisoned in Israeli prisons or detention centers without charge or trial for extensive periods of time. The number of Palestinian detainess increases as Israeli occupying forces continue to wage campaigns of arbitrary arrests and detentions against thousands of Palestinian prisoners. Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails continue to be subject to wide-ranging violations of their rights
and dignity.
There are5,000 Palestinian poluitical prisoners incarcenated in 27 Israeli prisons, jails, detention centres and interrogation centres.
The numbers of Palestinian women detained has also increased,which amounts to 14 with a Lisa Jarbouni bring the longest serving prisoner, so far held for 11 years out of her 20 year sentence. There are 235 child prisoners and 200 administrative detainess.
Investigations have revealed that prisoners are regularly subject to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment, including poor detention conditions, in violation of Israel's obligations under international human rights and humanitarian law.
This is why I support the Palestinian prisoners, and continue  to support the international communities efforts to ensure the immediate and effective measures to ensure that Israel releases all unlawfully detaned prisoners, and ensures that conditions of arrest are consistent with international human rights and humanitarian law.

Palestinians Behind Bars: Prisoners Without Human Rights 





Thatcher's Prayer



 
 

Loathed by the people, loved by dicators, traitors, robbers of the poor and architects of apartheid. F**K Thatcher and anyone who remembers her fondly. She had a heart of stone, I thank her for nothing.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

Culloden : Shoulder of Lamentation

On 16th April 1746, the Duke of Cumberland wiped up the rump of Bonnie Prince Charlie's army of Stuart hopefuls. Charles Edward Stuart was trying to win the British throne for his father James, son of James 11, and tried to capitalise on the understrength English army. He had made it as far south as Derby, but because of lack of support he was forced to turn round, and when defeat came he was back in the Highlands, at Culloden Moor near Inverness. The Battle of Culloden was the last full-scale land battle to be fought in Britain. It has since been remembered in many songs and verse.
It is also a place cited as one of the various origins of the Curse of Scotland, a tag given to the nine of diamonds http://www.rampantscotland.com/know/blknow_curse.htm.
A memorial has been held on the Sunday nearest the 16th since the 1920's, on the cairn at the site of the Battle.
Many thousands were butchered as they ran, died in prison, executed or died in transport to the colonies Subsequently the culture and language of the Gaels was brutally suppressed, closely followed by  the Scottish clearances. So Culloden has become a site of pilgrimage and lamentation, functioning as a place to try and decode the Scottish identity and the Scottish nation. For the Scots  it has marked more than two centuries of tragedy and loss. It has become a landscape of loss and mourning. It speaks too of the larger Scottish diaspora, and has become a focus  for the collective  memory of the Scots.
Many Scots still shed a tear, for the noble sacrifice of the many Jacobite who fell.
In recent years the Scots soul has been rekindled and reawakenened, long may it soar.



Culloden (clip from 1964 docudrama , The Battle Of Culloden)


The Ghosts of Culloden - Isla Grant


Monday, 15 April 2013

Poem for the Hillsborough disaster by Carol Ann Duffy



The 96 Liverpool supporters who lost their lives at Hillsborough, 24 years ago were remembered in the anniversary memorial service yesterday. A memorial was unveiled at Old Haymarket and an antique clock was installed at Liverpool Town hall and set at 15.06 the time of the tragedy.
Families will gather at Anfield later today for an annual memorial service , a minutes silence will be held, with the names of the 96 fans who died read out, and a candle lit in memory of each victim.
The truth of what people have been saying for 24 years is finally emerging with the undeniable truth now recovered and revealed , and the fight for justice is reaching a conclusion.
Here is a touching poem by Carol Ann Duffy about the Hillsborough disater.

The Cathedral bell, tolled, could never tell;

nor the Liver Birds, mute in their stone spell;

or the Mersey, though seagulls waild, cursed, overhead,

in no language for the slandered dead...

not the raw, red throat of the Kop, keening,

or the cops' words censored of meaning;

not the clock, slow handclapping the coroner's deadline,

or the memo to Thatcher, or the tabloid headline...

but fathers told of their daughters; the names of sons

on the lips of their mothers like prayers; lost ones

honoured for bitter years by orphan, cousin, wife-

not a matter of footbal, but of life.

Over this great city, light after dark;

truth, the sweet silver song of the lark.





Saturday, 13 April 2013

Samer Issawi's 'hunger speech' to Israelis

                                                                 
                                                             Samer Issawi

Reprinted from Youth Against Settlements,
http://hyas.ps/en/index.php/en/k2--category/settlements/item/148-hunger-speech-by-samer-issawi
Hunger Speech by Samer Issawi

Israelis:
I am Samer Issawi on hunger strike for eight consecutive months, laying in one of your hospitals called Kaplan. On my body is a medical devise connected to a surveillance room operating 24 hours a day. My heartbeats are slow and quiet and may stop at any minute, and everybody, doctors, officials and intelligence officers are waiting for my swtback and my loss of life.

I chose to write to you: intellectuals, writers, lawyers and journalist associations, and civil society activists. I invite you to visit me, to see a skeleton tied to his hospital bed, and around him three exhausted jailers. Sometimes they have their appetizing food and drinks around me.
The jailers watch my suffering, my loss of weight and my gradual melting. They often look at thei watches, asking themselves in surprise; how does this damaged body have an excess of time to live after its time?

Israelis:

I'm looking for an intellectual who is through shadowboxing, or talking to his face in mirrors. I want him to stare into my face and observe my coma, to wipe the gunpowder off his  pen, and from his mind the sound of bullets, he will then see my features carved deep in his eyes, I'll see him and he'll see me, I'jj see him nervous about the questions of the future, and he'll see me, a ghost that stays with him and doesn't leave.

You may receive instructions to write a romantic story about me, and you could do that easily after removing my humanity from me, you will watch a creature with nothing but a ribcage, breathing and choking with hunger, losing consciousness oncein a while.

And, after your cold silence, Mine will be a literary or media story that you add to your curricula, and when your students grow up they will believe that the Palestinian dies of hunger in front of Gilad's Israel sword, and you would then rejoice in this funerary ritual and your cultural and moral superiority.

Israelis:

I am Samer Issawi the young "Arboush" man according to your military terms, the Jerusalemite, whom you arrested without charge, except for leaving Jerusalem to the suburbs of Jerusalem. I, whom will be tried twice for a charge without charge, because it is the military that rules in your country, and the intelligence apparatus that decides, and all other componements of Israeli society ever have to do is sit in a trench and hide in the fort that keeps what is called a purity of identity - to avoid the explosion of my suspicious bones.

I have not heard one of you interfere to stop the loud wail of death, as if everyone of you has turned into gravediggers, and everyone wears his military suit: the judge, the writer, the intellectual, the journalist, the merchant, the academic, and the poet. And I cannot believe that a whole society was turned into guards over my death and my life, or guardians over settlers whose chase after my dreams and my trees.

Israelis:

I will die satisfied. I do not accept to be deported out of my homeland. I do not accept your courts and your arbitrary rule. If you had passed over in Easter to my country and destroyed it in the names of God of an ancient time, you will not Passover to my elegant soul which has declared disobedience. It has healed and flew and celebrated all the time that you lack. Maybe then you will understand that awareness of freedom is stronger than the awareness of deatrh.
Do not listen to those generals and those dusty myths, for the defeated will not remain defeated, and the victor will not remain a victor. History isn't only measured by battles, massacres and prisons, but by peace with the Other and the self.

Israelis:

Listen to my voice, the voice of our time and yours! Liberate yourselves of the excess of greedy power! Do not remain prisoners of miliary camps and the iron doors that have shut your minds! I am not waiting for a jailer to release me, I'm waitng for you to be released from my memory.

Friday, 12 April 2013

Bedroom Tax Song: You Cannae Have A Spare Rom in a Pokey Cooncil Flat.

 
A song about the Bedroom Tax, written for the demos that have occurred all over the UK, . and te Glasgow one in particular.
Set to the tune of the 1960's folk song "The Jeely Palce Song", by Scottish singer songwriter Adam McNaughton.

LYRICS

I'm a welfare state wean, we ive on the bottom flair
But we're not allowed to live there any mair.
They say we've got too many rooms, in our social rented flat
We've an eight by ten foot boxroom where you cannae swing a cat.

Chorus

Oh ye canna have a spare room in a pokey cooncil flat
Ian Duncan Smith and Co have put an end tae that
They say 'live in a smaller house', they say that is their plan
When the odds against you finding one are ninety-nine to one

Noo ma auties in a wheelchair, but these Tories dinna care
They say they have a deficit, she got to pay her share
£60 a month they'll take, then leave her tae her fate
Whilst gieing millionaires a tax cut, cause they say they're due a
break

Noo that Buckingham Palace looks a pretty roomy gaff
And the ludger there gets benefits at rates that make me laugh
A civil list, plus perks, worth nearly ninety million pounds
With her other dozen mansions lying empty a year round

Noon those MPs doon in Westminster must think we're dense
Wi their second home apartments, where the public pays their rent
They're even get a food allowance, two hubdred quid a week
But they're claiming we're the scroungers, is their arse up in their
cheeks?

So we've formed a Federation  amd we're gonna have our say
The Bedroom Tax it has to go, and we aint gonna pay
We're gonna march to George's square to demand our civil rights
Like nae mair Tories and that Liberal shite.

Thursday, 11 April 2013

Au Caberet du Ciel, Paris, 1927 - Man Ray

  

Can't seem to avoid a certain somebody, showering down from nearly every newspaper I look at, every tiny bit of news I see, so heres's something completely different.
The cabaret scene shown was intended for reproduction in Varietes, a Belgian publication dedicated to Surrealism. Depicted are among the leading thinkers, writers and artists who reflected the Surrealist spirit in their work.
These include, standing:
Hans Arp, JJean Caupenne, Georges Sadoul, Andre Breton, Pierre Unik, Yves Tanguy, Cora, Andre Thirion ( shown from behind, facing Cora), Rene Crevel, Suzanne Musard, and Frederic Megret (shown with cigarette).
Seated at the front of the table are Elsa Triolet, Louis Aragon, Camille Goemans and Madame Goemans.

More on a Surrealist thread coming Sunday.

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Dier Yassin Remembered.



Today  the Palestnian people mark the 65th year since Jewish militia murdered over 100 Palestinian villagers.
What happened in Deir Yassin prepared the ground for the ethnic cleansing of 70% of the Palestinian people. The same ethnic cleansing that occurred then is unfortunately going on today. In 1948 they used direct massacres, but today they use airstrikes in Gaza and shoot innocent young Palestinians in the West Bank.
For Palestinians and their supporters, the massacre is a symbol. It is remembered as the pivotal onset of the 1948 Nabka; Deir Yassin is the "other shoe that fell," sparking over 750,000 to flee from their homes out of a fear that they too would be massacred.
Early in the morning Commanders of the Irgun (headed by Menachim Begin) and the Stern Gang attacked Deir Yassin a village with aboyt 750 Palestinian residents.
The village  lay outside of the area assigned by the United Nations to the 'Jewish State'. It had a peaceful reputation. A year later the settlement  Kafar Shaul was founded on this site. In the 1980's the remains of Dier Yassin wwere bulldozed to make room for new settlements. The streets of these new neighbourhoods were named after members of the Irgun family.

Dier Yassin Remembered


Darkness recedes ( After Maggie)


Dark rippled,
heavy as lead,
tried to burn and sting,
crushed opposition,
taught us sadness,
that sometimes,
we need some hate,
to help us stay alive.

Memories moulded,
disturbing thoughts,
tainted many lifes,
stole dreams,
stretched understanding,
to limits unknown,
with pierced living breath,
and careful sharp precision.

A mother, daughter, yes!
who instead of flowers ,
planted seeds of agony and fear,
resiliant too, with cold calculation,
That is why yesterday, instead of tears,
many cheered in jubilation,
as this mean spirited medussa,
walked her final steps towards,
the flames of hell.

As darkness recedes,
let their be light.

Monday, 8 April 2013

The Witch is dead


Woke up earlier feeling a bit depressed, had an atos form to fill out, but then I noticed an unusual amount of people smiling in the street. What was going on I asked, haven't you heard the news Margaret Thatcher has died. What , suddenly it felt like the first time I had taken ecstacy, a rush of emotion that I had not felt for ages.
Some people would say that I should not be rejoicing in her death, nothing compares to the sadness that many people have felt that she was ever alive.
I deplore the way the mainstream media  is treating the life and legacy of Margaret Thatcher. To many people in this country, Thatcher was one of the most divisive figures to have emerged. She created misery and suffering for millions, while selling of  that which belonged to the people.I remember the strikes, the growing divide between the have;s and have nots, I remember her  plans  to take apart the weldare state, destroy the NHS. Her legacy being carried on by the Con Dems vicious cruel policies. Her legacy continues in nasty economic policies, that have made the rich richer and the poor poorer, with the slashing in this present time of essential services and the continuing dismantling of the welfare state. Her legacy forever rotten to the core, friends of dictators etc etc.
Across the country there will be many people dancing and celebrating her demise. I have already drunk a toast. Mourn her I will not
http://www.facebook.com/groups/TheWitchisDeadParty/

Maggie Thatcher may be dead but the rest of her Nasty Party and corrupt Government are very much alive. Please sign this, on behalf of those people who have been hardest hit by their deliberate destructive policies.

http://wowpetition.com/

These songs and this post is dedicated to all those who were blighted by her,and those who stood up against her in angry defiance.

Pete Wylie - The day that Thatcher dies


John McCullough - I will dance on your grave Mrs Thatcher


earlier post


Margaret Thatcher may be dead but the rest of her Nasty Party  very much alive. 






Sunday, 7 April 2013

Times's Police



I used to believe,
that libraries gave us power,
knowledge for free,
allowed us to share,
create and shape.

Across Britain, in sanctuaries harbour,
their trying to restrict access to internet,
to a daily fix of one hour,
some of us already hooked,
are feeling the sensation of withdrawal.

Not a lot of time, to gather thought,
for the unemployed to seek work,
to gather thought, dissect issues,
ease conscience, play silly games,
share urgent breath to the world.

Yesterday, I watched people
feverishly typing, as though
it was the last thing they would do,
some had the look of panic,
the pang of despair.

I went into the streets,with pockets full,
of restless ideas and conviction,
others carried papers, left unfilled,
took home thoughts stuffed with delicate emotion.

The power of communication,
needs patience, no rushed urgency,
allows us time, to pause for air,
freedom a universal language,
a form of magic,
floats through every living tongue.

Wires connect, whether we like it or not,
one of the better things to have emerged,
                                       from globalisation.
When speech gets cut, urgency grows wild,
in the desert without water, shards of purpose,
                                          do not simply die.
Hope flys without wings, holding all together.

Answers please by e.mail,
I'll try to reply soon,
in the heights of passion,
and  wild lofty abandon.


Thursday, 4 April 2013

Make Conservatives History


In a London nursing home, an old priest lay dying.
For years he had faithfully served the people of the nation's capital.
No motioned for his nurse to come near. Yes, Father? said the nurse.
I would really like to see David Cameron and Nick Clegg before I die, whispered the priest.
I'll see what I can do, Father, replied the nurse.
The nurse sent the requst to No 10 and waited for a response.
Soon the word arrived, David and Nick would be delighted to visit the priest.
As they went to the hospital, David commented to Nick, I don't know why the old priest wants to see us, but it certainly will help our images.
Nick agreed that it was the right thing to do at this time.
When they arrived at the priest's room, the priest took David's hand in his right hand, and the Nick's hand in his left.
There was silence and a look of serenity on the old priest's face.
The old priest slowly said: I have always tried to pattern my life after our Lord and Saviour, 
Jesus Christ.
Amen, said David, Amen. said Nick.
The old priest continued, Jesus died between two lying bastards, and I would like to do the same....

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

OK Duncan Smith, here is your £53


OK Duncan Smith, here is your £53

I've deducted
£15 for your electricity and gas. You are on a pre-payment card and it costs
more
£3 towards your TV License
£3 towards tour travel costs to sign once a fortnight
£14 as you are now a social housing tenant you have two bedrooms. Don't give me that nonsence about your wife being unwell
£2 Council Tax contribution as you live in England

That leaves you £16 a week to live on, barely enough for a daily pint of milk
and a copy of that vile newspaper that published you this morning.

OK, let's forget the milk and the paper. I'm going to take another £5 for
phone charges as the DWP are on a premim rate number and £5 off
towards that crisis loan you took out to pay to get your boiler repaired.
That's £6 a week to survive on.

Think you can still do it? Try doing it every bastard week.

No 'just saying, no 'best wishes' and Seren is too fucking cross to comment.

You can rot in hell

(with thanks to Don Atreides)

Petition
Ian Duncan Smith to live on £53 a week

https://www.change.org/petitions/iain-duncan-smith-iain-duncan-smith-to-live-on-53-a-week

Sunday, 31 March 2013

The Suicidal Tree



Trees have feelings. Back in 1644 on this day, army deserter Phillip Greensmith was strung up on a elm  tree at Coton-in-the-Elms, near Burton upon Trent in Staffordshire. The elm was so mortified by this misuse of its branches that it either decided to end it all, or went into terminal shock. From that day, its leaves and leaves began to wither, and within a year it was dead.
This is very much in keeping with the traditional personality of the elm. It is said that if you cut one down, a neighbouring elm will die of grief. Such a sentimental species proved an easy target for Dutch elm disease.
It is said that ' the elm and the vine do so naturally entwine'. Shakespeare alludes to the notion in The Comedy of Errors, in which Adriana says to her husband Antipholus of Syracuse:

Thou art an elm, my husband, I am a vine
Whose weakness married to thy stronger state
Makes me with thy strength to communicate.

The elm not only has deep-rooted emotions: it is also an arbiter of quality. The old maxims ' A good elm never grew on bad land' and 'Good elm, good barley' reveal its status as a crp and field guide. And how did the barley-grower cope when there was no handy, leafy, elm around for reference?

When the elmen leaf's big as a mouse's ear,
Then to sow barley never fear;
When the elmen's leaf's big as an ox's eye,
Then says I, ' Hie, boys, hie!'


Friday, 29 March 2013

Quietude - for R.S Thomas (29/3/13 -25/9/00 ) on the centenary of his birth



Wake up to quietude
no rush, tension is outside,
go on journeys, take one step at a time,
slowly step out into the garden
swathed in mist, remembering
that all life is difficult.

Look for truth
among the hedgerows,
dream on earth, behold paradise
capture y teimlad - the feeling,
mornings full of mystery and innocence
before we slip into the unknown.

Every doubt, every suspicion
can becomes a quite ripple,
every unkind word
thoughtless act, cancelled out,
the joy of living still in the moment
the sound of silence such a precious gift.

Yes there is fear, thoughts of death
in loneliness too,  the clog of isolation
the world  in deep sorrowful contemplation
a paralysis that shapes our different realities
bending and shaping  shifting perceptions
thoughts swirling in the vastness of time.

Each birth of  day,
surrenders a flash of gentleness
puzzles of thought, floating by
supernatural winds of sensation,
amulets of revelation, revolution
mind in quiet reflection.

In quietude,
no borders are necessary,
stillness encompassing
enlightenment presents itself,
as the riches of our gardens leap,
and the seeds of wild profusion grow.


(Happy Easter Weekend, heddwch/Peace)



Wednesday, 27 March 2013

iain duncan smith - you ratbag



Mr Ian Duncan Smith had been called to speak  to defend savage , Con-Dem Welfare cuts,when campaigner Willie Black rose to his feet and shouted " You're a ratbag."
Ian Duncan Smith is not a ratbag though, he is lower than vermin, even the word scumbag is too good a word for him.

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Carlos Castanada ( 25/12/25 -27/4/98) - To Seek Freedom





' To seek freedom is the only driving force I know. Freedom to fly off into that infinity out there. Freedom to dissolve, to lift off, to be like a flame of a candle, which, in spite  of being up against the light of a billion stars, remains intact, because it never pretended to more than what it is, a mere candle.'


Monday, 25 March 2013

Samer Issawi is dying



Samer Issawi, aged 33 has been on hunger strike now for 246 days.
He is being detained without trial, indefinitely, under a policy known as administrative detention.
His strike is not for his own personal freedom, but is a collective one, for every brother, husband ,sister, mother, child who has seen their trees torn down,lands confiscated, homes demolished. Samer Issawi's freedom is Palestines freedom.

His heartbeat is down to 28 beats per minute, his heart could stop at any moment. He is suffering from breathing problems, constant dizziness and severe pains in the abdomen,still hungry for freedom.The media continues to be deadly silent about his predicament that is why we have to scream.

I stand in solidarity with Samer Issawi.

(earlier post)
http://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/free-samer-issawi.html

for up to date information
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Free-Samer-Issawi-Campaign/194111744067340



Sunday, 24 March 2013

China Achebe ( 16/11/36 -21/3/13) R.I.P



Nigerian author China Achube was the author of 'Things Fall Apart' which was published in 1958. The book chronicled the life of thr Okonkwo and the complications that arise when white missionaries arrive in his village. The clash between colonialisation and traditional culture  still makes the book relevent in today's globalised world. He was also a poet, professor, critic, humanist and friend of Palestine. He described himself as a storyteller. R.I.P

Interview on CNN African Voices


'The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceful with his religion, but we were amused by his foolishness and allowed him to satay. Now he has one our brother and our clan can no longer act like one. He had put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.'

-  China Achebe ( from his book, ' Things fall apart.')