Johnny Rotten: "Rise" against racism, boycott Israel - TRCB

Johnny Rotten: "Rise" against racism, boycott Israel - TRCB

From Penyberth to Parc Aberporth: Welcome to warmongering Wales.

Here is an excellent lecture on the militarisation of Wales in which an articulate voice from the Welsh media speaks out against the whole military industrial complex.
In which Angharad Mair condemns the use of West Wales for the development and testing of Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, UAVs. An issue very much close to my heart.
Sadly I have not seen much coverage of this issue from other outlets of the Welsh media itself.
I wonder why.
You can read the lecture here.

BEPJ - Lewis Valentine Annual Memorial Lecture – Angharad Mair

Pete Morgan - Poet, R.I.P 7/6/39 - 5/7/10 MY ENEMIES HAVE SWEET VOICES.

I was in a bar called Paradise
The fiddler from the band
asked me, ' Why do yo stand
here crying?'
I answered him, 'Musician
this may come as a surprise-
I was trying to split the difference
when it split before my eyes?
My enemies have sweet voices
their tones are soft and hard
When I hear my heart rejoices
and I do not seem to mind
I was playing brag in Bedlam
asking, ' Why does he kneel
down weeping?'
I answered him, 'Physician,
I think you would have cried
I was falling back on failure
when the failure stepped aside.'
My enemies have sweet voices
their tones are soft and hard
when I hear my heart rejoices
and I do not seem to mind
I was blind to the gutter
when Merlin happened by
asking 'Why do you lie
there bleeding?'
I answered him, 'Magician,
as a matter of fact
I was jumping to conclusions
when one of them jumped back.'
My enemies have sweet voices
their tones are soft and kind
when I hear my heart rejoices
and I do not seem to mind.


FROM
'Grey Mare being the Better Steed'. 1973

George MacBeth - To the small creatures of the dark.

Out of the dark
into the red moon-light of the corridor,

out of the dark
into the artificial day of your cages,

out of the dark
howling,

out of the dark
for the sake of new food,

in your mottled skin,
gathering hair, wool, and scales,

wings pleated,
or at ease in a straw nest,

so many of you,
believers in what the light will do,

and fearing it,
all fall, creep, run and prey,

all rise, flap, sing,
all cry to teach me,

I beseech you,
out of the dark,

into the dark
of another day,

all fly, step, waver,
all reach, leap, wander,

all come,
all bow down,

all pray for me.

ROMAN CIESLEWICZ - 1930 - 1996

Polish poster legend friend of the great Alejandro Jodorsky member of Parisian surrealist collective PANIC.He had a huge influence on European design when he moved to Paris in the 1960's, his work becomming very influential on the artists and designers that took part in the Ateliers Populaire in May 1968 and especially on those that would go on to form the political design firm Grapus.
 A  retrospective of his work now showing at Royal College of Art, S47 and it's all free, the showing that is, and i'll be fortunately in the vicinity, so will have to take a little look.
It's from 16th July to 6th of August

Tea and Sympathy

Nine to five
reflections
treading through
explanations
that do not
want to play
eclipse is due
apologies
come slipping
through sun and moon.
Sometimes
a tall tale
an ugly murmour
gathers
inconspicuous
functionality
seduced by distant violins
as sands of time
stretch out
arrangements.
Cherry lips
reconnect
bring us water
wash away our tears
all gods are equal
especially mine
illusions of nurture
and the long distant plan
am working at the femininine instinct
lights flick on again, bring me cold tea and sympathy.

THE LOGIC OF FIRE - Vernon Edgar

Picture :-
the logic of war, by William T. Ayton

The logic of fire is divided to the no nonsense of corpo- reality. Atomicity's sublimiyity broke, rudely awoke in excruciating compromise of humanoid form. Cyclotronic dees drived dichotomic percussion. Bombarded, we awoke, broke through and through our pierced side of Christ_Adam bomb-blown stilted mentalities. Meta-terran trippers trapped in science fiction jails, mystics run amucked up botched hockshop pitch batch shits gunk stuck, stainin' to filter out great moontide's flash flood of bad scenarios, the para-news deletions, unholy Hal-Lucy machinations of poor-toned think tank, a roller coaster green, hourglass-assed spider omegas, automated camp with globe-wide showers, blasted planet's bitter-bitten escapist exhaust, robotomized bludgeonists in the last metal horror, the fate of the Third Men, and according to John, attack of the interstellar locusts, snares and snags of snarls and sundry elect lookin' for the iceberg in their lakes of fire, private eye spying private eye in public dark of alien nation.


FROM ' Prosaic Mosaic '