The revolution IS being televised,
The revolution is on social media.
The piglet and pooh pastiches, the re-run petitions re-run, the wails and tales and what the F!
The implodes and explodes and the silent retreat modes,
The friendships in question and IQ on trial.

 

It IS a revolution.

And it IS being televised.

 

Let them eat cake is the Westminster vibe,
The BBC, Guardian, the chattering minds.
But the ordinary, dispossessed, helpless ignored.
Workers, protesters, manipulated many have delivered their verdict unqualified - bold!

Autonomy - Freedom - Connection - Belonging,

The need in the story is timeless, predictable, sorry.

It's a revolution no different than any before

 

Led by opportunists, fanatics and nationalists with distorted passion and one or two lies....

Fuelling and feeding the anger and lack, or what the heck, to the obviously bored.
 

The revolution is being televised, media-ised, lionised.

 

The familiar players are all on stage
Who is Robespierre? who Stalin? who Benjamin Franklin?
See honour and integrity

exploited and changed on both sides.

The rejection of union, undoing the union,

united we aren't in uncoupling, reforming, revolting.
Yet hell is also a world without change.

The revolution IS being televised!
 

Choose love, choose humility, choose understanding choose wisely. Or choose need needlessly.
Whatever you choose WILL be televised,
It already is.


It IS a revolution.

BREXIT

Ode to Thursday morning.

 

My duvet is dirty, it's 11.15, 

I'm tired but I'm rested, both clean and unclean.

My head whirrs ceaselessly- round and around

From beginning to end, has the same under-sound.

I can feel the girl laugh, unencumbered and free

I am all of the paradox, all that is me.

To care for the cat, the idea or another,

To read for the homework, the soul or be mother.

I play with connection, mathematics, Greek myths

With presence and mealtimes, and how I am blessed.

My heart is full flowing, my heart is a rock,

My heart wants to melt but is held with a lock.

The key in my hand is both rusty and smooth

I hold it too tightly, too head-bound to move.

To let go and fall free into all that is all-

So simple, so dangerous, yet starts with the fall.

Around and around, from beginning to now

In the magpies nest hollow I peer from the bough.

Safe with the glittery, slippery joys

The timeless, the stories, the gifts and the toys.

I hold it all tightly awash in my head

When I try it explain it comes out of me dead.

Stop thinking,  stop all that has brought me to here,

If I speak with my actions and hold to what's near.

 

Feed the cat, buy some bread, put a log on the fire

The cave is full shadowed, the cymbals shout liar.

The fire and the cat and the ironing - the mess.

The children and friendships, the home, the address.

The technical, practical meaningful times,

Intertwined with trite relevant saccharine lines.

Wheelbarrow or donkey, the joke is on me

I am stealing it all, I am stealing what's me.

 

With no truth, with just trust, with a faith born in thought.

I can put the key in and be all that I've bought.

Bought with love, bought with time, bought with sadness and grief

Bought with fearless forgetting, that I am the thief!

The thief or the trickster, the clown or the sage

The key in my hand is now here on this page.

                       Re-minding

 

Reminded to what mind? To ‘my’ mind to ‘me’ 

‘I’m’ mindfully mind-full, to mind to just ‘be’

 

‘My’ mind re-minding makes no sense at all,

Is nonsense is sense-less when sense is the call.

 

Who senses? Who calls? Who whispers to ‘me’ ?

Who hears it? Who answers? With ‘just let it Be’

 

Be mindfully mind-full, let go of this mind,

Let Love take the front seat, re-mind mind behind.

Be heart-full and empty of thinking and thought,

Re-minded to no-thing, remembered not taught.

 

Re-minded to no-thing, not know thing; no mind,

This no-thing (not nothing) is ‘full’ you will find.

 

Re-minded that empty of mind is the key,

For empty is heart-full, where ‘Me’ becomes ‘Be’

Confusion

 

Yes to the program, yes to the urge.

Yes to the calling, yes to the purge.

 

I’ve written, I’ve read, I’ve talked into the night.

I’ve listened, supported, and done what is right.

 

All knowledge is huge to the stars and the moon.

But knowledge is nothing but noise in a room.

 

Loud cymbals of nothing, a game or the rung

Tying matter to matter the non-sense is sung.

 

The cave is as empty of life as the noise,

Without love as the light -all is shadows and toys.

 

Let love be your being; let love be your core.

Let love guide your action and  ‘my’ become ‘your’.

Yes action is brilliant and action is fine

But action can lead to the loosing of time.

 

If the action is tied to some need to be filled

All you get is more shadows and noise as you build.

 

Put your gas mask on first as the plane plummets down

Hold yourself lightly lest others may drown.

 

Be the gad fly, the bar fly, the girl on the train.

Just be there- just be there -to witness the pain.

 

Less is more, more is all, ‘all’ is nothing but life.

Life is energy bursting and sharp as a knife.

 

A knife that crafts beauty too wondrous to say

It’s the pain and the beauty and joy of one day.

 

And if we are the knife and the love in that tool

We are both the creator and heart in its soul.

Burns Night Lassies reply to the Laddies

Oh the lassies thank you ........

You gave a quite amusing toast

We the lassies wait in line till last

Behind you and the roast

 

The grey bald bag we honour here

Is doused in whisky neat
The only way a grey bald bag
Is good enough to eat

 

We all use some enhancing
And you laddies more that we
  For though we enhance our beauty,- What you get is what you see

 

With laddies oh the sadness
It is much more underhand
What we see is not quite what we get, With or, without, the band.

Like Burns in the beginning

love is mentioned often and in ink.

We sink into their arms but end -

With our arms inside their sink.

Mr Burns was after just one thing

To feed his poets game.

His pastime, hochmagandy

With the lassies, was its name.

Now you good laddies here I know,

Would not admit to being randy.
Or that everything you think and do-

Is pursuit of Hochmagandy

 

But if you should, or could just ask

It happens that I hold,
Some tips for you from lass to lad

To make your play more bold.

I'll read it from this dangerous card Some stupid lassie gave
To my sweet love a sitting there

Who now is much more brave

Now technically it must be said

For hochmagandy to be true,

You must not be a-married to

The lass you choose to woo

But as we live in modern times

And have evolved some way

So many choose, to hochmagand

As mr Burns did in his day.

But now you want to learn from me

My precious secret tips.

Well I will tell you all my dears

It comes now from my lips.

The worst thing lads can say by far

Is "what's for dinner dear?"
Much safer is- "How can I help?"
Or safer still ask -"where?"

But The ultra safe words you can say

Oh laddies please take heed,
Is "Have some wine my darling one" Hochmagandy guaranteed!

Another unsafe thing to say -

"Should you be eating that?!"

and dangerous too, to offer fruit

Or mention apples in your chat.

 

The safer thing to whisper

Have some chocolate with your choice But by far the safest thing to say
"Have some wine" with kindest voice.

Don't ask "What did you do all day?"

Or hope she didn't over do it,
Or even - "I just love that robe"

Say, "Have some wine," and pour it.

 

Now these tips here from lass to lads Are just some silly lines
If you want, to hochmagandy

Then speak only of good wines.

The trick is not in words at all

But in the context that you seek
yes words are said, yet better still

Are thought, -let actions speak.

So take a look at that bald bag

A soaking in its whisky,
It hasn't said a word but still
It leaves us feeling frisky.