Saturday 13 October 2012

Just when you think your free, theirs no escape possible......BUT



BUT WE'RE NOT ALL DEAD YET
EVEN THOUGH BEING ALIVE IS A RISKY THING
ALL AROUND  THE GLOBE I SEE
EYES A BLAZING, THE OLD MASTERS
THEIR POWERS ARE GONE, TIME FOR URGENT
RE-IMAGINATION
PERHAPS THEY WILL NOT KILL US
ALL.......
GO TO YOUR HOUSES AND SLEEP
AND WHEN THE MORNING COMES
OUR SHADOWS WILL OVERCOME
WE ARE LIKE LANTERNS SWATHED
AND COVERED, HIDDEN AWAY IN A DARK PLACE
SOME OF US COME IN PEACE, AND OTHERS WHO
HAVE TAUGHT TO BE SLAVES, ARE LEARNING
HOW TO BREAK FREE
TOGETHER WE ARE STRONG
A PRESSURE OF MIND
FOLLOWING UNITY'S TREE

Thursday 11 October 2012

Squeezed Britain - cuts don't work - they hurt



The government's austerity  measures are biting hard. Hard pressed families are feeling the squeeze. One in seven children go without a hot meal and the only growth is in foodbanks. With pay cuts and rising bills many are unable to make their money last a month, and in desperation are driven to  take out pay day loans. We need an alternative to austerity and cuts. We need a programme of growth to help the economy. You can help send that message by joining us on 20th October

http://afuturethatworks.org/

AND THE TORIES RESPONSE



Tuesday 9 October 2012

Victoria Britain -Naming the dead Afghanistan 11 years on



Who does war impact the most? Who does it benefit?

http://bit.ly/zM13eQ



The truth about the Afghanistan War - Paul Flynn M.P


Sunday 7 October 2012

Conflagration

As Cameron smiles
and his party celebrates,
outside their is  growing  discontent
people busy making fires,
looking into the flames and dreaming
as their vision reveals its ugly truth,
a party of hollowness, waving empty  smiles.

We weave branches, keep our spirits alive
increase the pressure, as our path is lit .
One nation of resiliant steel, carrying instruments
of change, shouting angry defiance,
striking matches as the falling leaves blow.

From North to South bonfires are being prepared
stubborn choruses fighting back,with thunder between our fingers,
most of us have nothing to lose, in these burning times,
a hungry vibration, believing in the prophecy of birds,
following the stream of longing and survival.

Already we are marching, you won't see us turning back
as they rob us blind, we  turn their  plans into disarray
as we cling on to faith,  a stirring band of rebellion
no retreat for us into corners, we look for another way out,
singing our songs of bread and roses, and the dance of solidarity.




                                                 

Friday 5 October 2012

How We Can Solve The Palestinian Israeli Problem: the Film



http://www.palestine-israel-problem.com


This is a feature  length documentary that is part of a bigger whole. It features many of the foremost people, speaking out in favour of equality for Palestinians and recognition of Israel Apartheid.

No Peace without justice,

No justice without truth.

Tuesday 2 October 2012

Pat's Petition

Pat Onions has submitted an e-petion to the government website. Pat who is blind, is also a carer. .
There is now just less than month before this petition expires on 1st November,  it has been signed by 50,000 but urgently needs to get another 50,000 by the end of the month - we have to keep pushing, this government needs to be told the depth of feeling in this country that is against their punitive policies. Every voice counts. If they still do not listen we must do everything that is available to keep up opposition to their deeply flawed, policies. Together we can win.
Pat's petition calls on Parliament to:

"Stop and review the cuts to benefits and services which are falling disproportionately on disabled people, their carers and families"

it can be signed here

http://epetitions.direct.gov.uk/petitions/20968 

And after you have signed keep sharing the petition as wide and as far as possible, because we still have a long way to go.Up and down the country it is also noticed that the Work Capability Assessments are simply failing the most vulnerable sections of our community and that Atos the company undertaking these tests are simply not fit for purpose.
Hopefully the 100,000 target will be reached, and perhaps their will be some kind of debate in Parliament. If we get enough signatures at least we can shame them.
And when they carry on not listening, we carry  on together too, in solidarity, resisting them every inch of the way. We will not be silenced.

Sunday 30 September 2012

Thomas de Quincey (15/8/1785 -8/12-1859) - On William Wordsworth (7/4/1770-23/4/1850)


I've written about Mr De Quincey before which you can find below at following link.
teifidancer: THOMAS DE QUINCEY and his phantasmagoric dreams. In 1807 he went to visit the lake District, where he became friends with the poet William Wordsworth. In 1809 he settled in Grasmere, at Dove House which had previously been Mr Wordsworth's home. He was to stay there for ten years. Thomas had long been an admirer of Williams work, and for a while their was a lot of mutual respect,  becoming friends with Wordsworth's sister Dorothy and a number of his acquaintances who became known as the lake poets, including Coleridge and Robert Southey. However over the years there was to be a gradual falling out, over some real or imagined state.   It has been mentioned that  de Quincey thought that Wordsworth had been ungenerous towards him, though he had a tendency to think that, of a lot of people. De Quincey's head at the time had more than just a claustophobic edge to it , by this time he was using opium daily to relieve the products of social restraints that he felt, and was often  to be found wandering in much a delirious state, delivering a number of public spats, that were to become the stuff of legend.
Later he wrote this essay,in  which he achieved some sort of public revenge by drawing this pen picture of his ex-friend on a Nature Ramble. It has more than a bite to it.

William Wordsworth
'Wordsworth was, upon the whole, not a well-made man. His legs were pointedly condemned by all the female connoisseurs in legs that ever I heard upon that topic; not that they were bad in any way which would force itself upon your notice - there was no absolute deformity about them; and undoubtedly they had been serviceable legs beyond the average standard of human requistion, for I calculate, upon good data, that with these identical legs Wordsworth must have traversed a distance of 175 to 180,000 English miles - a mode of exertion which to him, stood in the stead of wine, spirits, and all other stimulates whatsoever to the animal spiris; to which he has been indebted for a life of unclouded happiness, and we for much of what is most excellent in his writings. But, useful as they they have proved themselves, the Wordsworthian legs were certainly not ornamental, and it was really a pity, as I agreed with a lady in thinking, that he had not another pair for evening dress parties - when no boots lend their friendly aid to masque our imperfectations from the eyes of female rigorists - the elegantes formarum spectrices. A sculptor would certainly have dissaproved of their contour . . .
 But the worst part of Wordsworth's person was the bust: there was a narrowness and a droop about the shoulders which became striking, and had an effect of meanness which brought into close juxtasposition with a figure of a most statuesque order. Once on a summer morning, waliking in the vale of Langdale with Wordsworth, his sister,and Mr J - a native Westmoreland clergyman, I remember that Miss Wordsworth was positively mortified the peculiar illustration which settled upon this defective conformation. Mr J -, a fine towering figure, six feet high, massy and columner in his proportions, happened to be walking, a little in advance, with Wordsworth and myself being in the rear; and from the nature of the conversation which then prevailed in our front rank, something or other about money, deviceses, buying and selling, we of the rear-guard thought it requisite to preserve this arrangement for a space of three miles or more; during which time, at intervals, MissW - ould exclaim, in a tone of vexation, 'Is it possible? can that be William? How mean he looks!'' and could not conceal a mortification that seemed really painful, until I, for my part, could not forbear laughing outright at the serious interest which she carried into this trifle. She was however, right as regarded the mere visual judgement.
 Wordsworth's figure, with all its defects, was brought into powerful relief by one which had been cast in a more square and massy mould; and  in such a case it impressed a spectator with a sense of absolute meaness, more especially when viewed from behind, and not counteracted by his counterance; and yet Wordsworth was of a good height, just  five feet ten, and not a slender man; on the contrary, by the side of Southey his limbs looked thick, almost in a disproportionate degree.
 But the total effect of Wordsworth's person was always the worst in a state of motion; for, according to the remark I have heard from country people, 'he walked like a cade' - a cade being some sort of insect which advances by an oblique motion ( 'a cade'was, in fact, the country word for a tottering, new-born lamb: perhaps slightly preferable from Wordswort's point of view to an ant). This was not always perceptible, and in part depended (I believe) upon the position of the arms; when either of these happened (as was very customary) to be inserted into the unbuttoned waistcoat, his walk had a wry or twisted appearance only - for I have known it, by slow degrees, gradually to edge off his companion from the middle of the side of the highroad.

From
Recollections of the Lakes and the Lake Poets
- Thomas de Quincey 1840.