2008-01-26

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 12:52 pm
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what the magic says

defined by means of what the magic says
we do not let the hours turn into sheep
but slowly into corners they might creep
while we are confined to the higher ways
those other actors in these slower plays
have yet to tell us is the seas are deep
but we are eager to live on the cheap
without the sight or odour of bouquets
now here or there we name the monster life
that eats the light and darkness without pause
it leaves no marks for anyone to see
but we reject the horror of this strife
demand that all submit to equal laws
and force the whole to obey and agree

 
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 01:27 pm
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old casuarinas

old casuarinas casting a hard shade
on the crushed limestone of a noontime road
hat signals could the play of light encode
of generations that had worked and played
the promises both kept and long betrayed
each passing donkey silent under load
could not explain and would not forebode
the longer journey or the bright cascade
none hide from voices latent in the air
the messages of knowledge never cheap
but paid with effort and crushed out of stone
what's left behind is nothing but hard care
and all those things we could not bear to keep
but still the tree lies weeping in the bone

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 02:18 pm
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beneath that marker

 
beneath that marker nothing but bare stone
our eyes are drawn down to the sighing earth
each takes this journey on his very own

tempted by maiden laid out by the crone
taking for plenty what becomes mere dearth
beneath that marker nothing but bare stone

accept the burden with a single groan
but do not give us reason for more mirth
each takes the journey on his very own

the lamp that guided now is dead and blown
the ship we sought is missing from its berth
beneath that marker nothing but bare stone

we listen for the lonely ones who moan
not caring what the silence had been worth
each takes the journey on his very own

the sunlight slides into places unknown
we wonder what will be brought to new birth
beneath that marker nothing but bare stone
each takes this journey on his very own

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 03:21 pm
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when angels fall

 
when angels fall into the maw of fear
not many know just how the end is set
nor who will in the end express regret
before the fever and the pox appear
we leave the facts to those who engineer
the kinds of meaning that we soon forget
those marks of cadence on the coronet
that tell us what is normal and sincere
aspire to higher glories and you'll fail
to reach even those you ought to master
but the first dropout soon achieves his goal
those things you strike upon the very nail
are not those that you arrive at faster
nor are they ones that you will get to whole

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 04:35 pm
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simply to say no

 
what meaning comes lacks any sort of glow
there aren't as many paths as you'd believe
the way to win is simply to say no

the river does not pause in its long flow
but open water has ways to deceive
what meaning comes lacks any sort of glow

sodden with anger we await the blow
that you have made it your life to achieve
the way to win is simply to say no

short is the day when the hot winds don't blow
and there are answers you could not conceive
what meaning comes lacks any sort of glow

decline is what we claim you ought to know
sweet gift that you most wanted to receive
the way to win is simply to say no

when we arrive we learn we soon must go
the time of praise is when we learn to grieve
what meaning comes lacks any sort of glow
the way to win is simply to say no

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 05:06 pm
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wherein we fail

wherein we fail to understand the signs
of changing seasons and the rising tide
informing us we cannot long abide
within the bounds set by these ancient lines
each city that we build in time declines
and we must pass without a hint of pride
into those places which we'd long denied
and give up all our plans and our designs
so that the mystic symbols are aligned
in tune with all the stars that we have seen
the time has come for others to depart
from those positions they had been assigned
by honest peasant or by vulgar queen
and close the chambers of the waiting heart

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 05:21 pm
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winter bloom

we need the vision of the winter bloom
not the raw force of the hard summer rose
to warm the hearts within our little room

it's not the colour or the faint perfume
that most of all the calmest grace bestows
we need the vision of the winter bloom

here in the south we still feel weight of gloom
and need a brightness with its kindly glows
to warm the hearts within our little room

far be it from you simply to assume
that you can lead us coldly by the nose
we need the vision of the winter bloom

we dare not let the tyrant cold consume
our common sense the effort quickly grows
to warm the hearts within our little room

we take a joy to overcome all doom
that has a meaning that is past all shows
we need the vision of the winter bloom
to warm the hearts within our little room

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 05:30 pm
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The biggest jailbreak in history

The biggest jailbreak in history

John Maxwell

 

 

On Tuesday, January 29, it will be exactly six months since I established a folder on my computer titled “The Crash of 2007”.

Tuesday January 29 will also be the 56th anniversary of my entry into what I thought was the honourable profession of journalism. These days many journalists ask themselves  whether what they practice is  a profession; whether what they do is honourable and even whether it constitutes journalism.

As disaster approaches we wonder why the global media don’t seem to notice.

As the so-called  Thatcherite-Reaganite revolution cartwheels its ungainly, calamitous and soul-destroying progress  towards implosion and self-destruction, many of us are too mesmerised by the gargantuan awfulness of it all to look at anything but the  accompanying economic and financial mayhem.

But there is lots more not so obvious.

In Iraq at this moment, the major evidence of humanity’s eight millennia of civilisation is being looted and sold off to ‘investors’ who have more faith in the artefacts of Nebuchednezzar’s peasants  than in all the oil wells of George Bush. As well they might. As we sang in the late sixties: “Everything Crash !”.

As Field Marshal (ret’d) Rumsfeld will tell you again, “Stuff happens!”

Move on! Get over it!

What is happening is so enormous, so transcendental that we can no more see it than we can see the rotation of the Earth.

But there are many people, neither prophets nor even experts, who for a long time have been feeling in their bones that something untoward is underway, rather as they say cats and dogs can sense seismic disturbances before earthquakes shake us up and destroy  our cosy domesticity and, often our lives. Even people like me, who thought they were feeling the precursor tremors, are probably just as scared and apprehensive as anyone else. Worse yet, while we can vividly imagine what may happen, most people don’t get really frightened until their own houses start to to do the tango.

I’ve been watching for a long time as the invisible hand of capitalism attempted even more daring feats of prestidigitation;  as the managers seized control from the shareholders and the corporate system abandoned any idea of public responsibility or accountability, as jobs and the people in them,  were ruthlessly discarded and production was outsourced to slave societies – oops- ‘more cost effective countries’ – and the American capitalist forgot what the trade unions had been trying to tell them before they were emasculated: The money paid to American workers is what fuels American production. But the Enrons and the Exxons have never been interested. The idea was to make as much money as possible as fast as possible and to hell with the workers.

A declining workforce still being paid at the equivalent of 1975 wages  could obviously not support the enormous superstructure of speculation, competitive consumption,  greed and waste  into which American capitalism has transformed itself. If the workers couldn’t afford to support the economy out of their wages or savings, their masters could always borrow European or Japanese or Chinese money to lend the workers  and allow them to borrow more, paying ever higher rates of interest, running faster on the treadmill and losing ground, and the whole elaborate Ponzi scheme would go on and on until the second coming of Ayn Rand.

Multi billionaires like George Soros who spoke of ‘gangster capitalism’ and Warren Buffet, who spoke of the unfairness of the system were ignored: perhaps they were just envious of how fast the new Lords of the Earth could make money and didn’t really understand modern capitalism

What American capitalism has accomplished would have  confounded Adam Smith and astonished even Karl  Marx: it destroyed its own working class.

For the new-rich, capitalism was a no-risk game where governments had a duty to come to the rescue of those involved in unfortunate accidents, like Enron or the sub-prime mortgage debacle. Mr Alan Greenspan  who keeps Ayn Rand at his bedside, had always delivered when necessary, despite a schoolmasterish tendency to  vaguely deplore the ‘animal spirits’ and other juvenile delinquencies of his billionaire charges.

The problem of course, was that there were too many balls in the air and little or no certitude about how many capitalists could dance on the head of a peon. Ayn Rand, from beyond the grave, advised self-love and selfishness as the only virtues..

Margaret Thatcher did say ‘There is no such thing as Society” – expressing the Rand philosophy even more succinctly than Miss Rand herself. This pithy aphorism was then swallowed by various dummies all over the world. In the United States the explicit application of that principle has wiped out a significant proportion of the savings accumulated by African Americans over the last 50 years or so. And though it is blacks who are most critically affected, whites, Hispanics, and what is left of the working class are all condemned to fulfil the bizarre prediction in the gospel according to Matthew:

“For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath”. I’ve always considered that verse to perfectly represent capitalism.

The legacy of the Thatcherite-Reaganite counter revolution is not simply economic and social catastrophe but structural unsustainability in every  dimension

Though the Reagan/Thatchers did not believe in society their commonplace lunacies such as  the deregulation of aviation and Reagan's firing air traffic controllers – worked because of   human altruism and the  self-sacrifice of the victimised. They privatisated essential services – disregarding the fact that they would be run by the same people. According to them these people would suddenly  become more efficient, since there was a profit involved. They ignored the probability of corruption, corner cutting, destruction of social cap[ital and decreases in the indices of civilised existence.

Thatcher and Reagan were not the causes of global warming or of any of the dire curses that attend us;  they simply made it much harder for us to act quickly effectively and responsibly. The practical, pragmatic guys who ‘make things happen’  too often produce developments that depend on  destroying the environment. maximising their profits and stealing environmental goods from the rest of us.

We’ve lost the 21 square miles of Kingston Harbour to sewage, solid waste, to  assorted manufacturers and to the Port Authority

Do you hear any of them offering to replace what they have stolen?

Of course, when the beach sand goes and when the jellyfish swarm the beaches stinging and scaring our visitors, guess who will be asked to find the money to fix the problems?

 

The biggest jailbreak in history

Ayn Rand  would have approved of Israel’s latest initiative in Gaza. To punish the unruly Palestinians, Israel with the approval of the West, imposed a blockade which quickly shut down municipal services, food supplies and emergency rooms. As someone (not Margaret Thatcher)  once said “The prospect of being hanged concentrates the mind wonderfully”  but what if the mind belongs to babies on a respirator who will die when the last generator runs of of fuel?

If Mugabe or  Milosevich had done what the Israelis have done (and not for the first time) there would have been outraged howls from the State Department and other chancelleries of the civilised world, condemning barbaric, primitive  inhuman behaviour. What happens to  Palestinians or Haitians is not the concern of the cognitive elite  of the world. Haitians and Palestinians live in law-free zones where human rights should not  interfere with effective governance. And Condoleezza Rice, George Bush and the governments of the North Atlantic community approve of Israel’s turning Gaza into  a concentration camp. Their motive: to convince the Palestinians that they were wrong to choose as their government the Hamas party. The Fatah party, once led by Yasser Arafat, was judged wanting by the Palestinians who voted for the much more radical Hamas. Fatah, once into hijacking planes and reviled as a terrorist organisation, became the darling of the West after the death of Arafat

Hamas and Israel share the same basic prejudices. Hamas refuses to recognise Israel’s statehood; Israel refuses to recognise Palestinians right to their own country. Normally the Hamas opposition is expressed as if it meant the extermination of the Israelis. The last Intifada was sparked by Israeli retaliation for the assassination of an Israeli cabinet minister who advocated exterminating the Palestinians  or at the minimum, expelling them from Palestine.

The Europeans, atoning for Hitler's attempt to exterminate the Jews, have consistently backed the Israeli contention that the Jews of the world deserve a homeland and that homeland should be the territory of Palestine (land of the Philistines/Falastin).

For the last 70 years, those Palestinians not expelled by Israel have lived in smaller and smaller reservations in their own homeland with Israel continuing to install ‘facts on the ground’ –  Israeli owned housing scheme on Palestinian owned land.

A map of Palestine (if the western media would print one) would show Palestine looking rather like a chocolate chip cookie, with Israeli settlements represented by the chocolate chips. Palestine is essentially split into two non-viable tribal  reservations, the West Bank (of the Jordan River) including Jerusalem  and a slim sliver of land on the Mediterranean – the Gaza Strip.

Unlike the Haitians, the Palestinians are recognised by the United Nations as refugees in their own land and have been so since 1948.  Hamas two years ago won the electoral loyalty of the majority of Palestinians.  Israel and her western allies decided that democracy was fine for Gaza, but, that, as in Haiti, you can vote for anyone you choose as long as it’s our surrogate – the Henry Ford principle.

The Israelis try to control the Palestinians by a variety of means, incursions by the Israeli army in which Palestinians including children, women  and other innocents are ‘unfortunately’ killed; and by other means such as pre-dawn runs by Israeli aircraft generating sonic booms which terrify children and drive adults crazy.

The Gazans retaliate by firing primitive rockets into Israeli settlements (built on Palestinian land) and by suicide bomb attacks – although, mercifully, there haven’t been any for some time.

The situation is dangerous, crazy and unjust for everybody. The latest clampdown on Gaza was forcing  people into starvation, putting children and sick people at dangerous risk and imposing generally inhuman punishment on the entire population for the sins of  the rocket launching radicals. The Gazans were penned into this  prison by an Israeli- built analogue of the Berlin Wall, a 26 ft./8 meter high concrete and steel  barrier.

The Hamas government of Gaza last week  decided to create its own facts, in the words of one of its leaders. Its sappers and heavy equipment drivers  knocked down the massive wall and nearly half a million Gazans streamed out into Egypt on the first day. For some it was their first time out of the Gaza prison/concentration camp in their entire lives

The difference in perceptions is vast. TIME, Newsweek, CNN and other US media treated the breakout as if they were reporting the annual Spring merchandise sales in the US.

To describe the desperate scramble  of people seeking baby food and basic necessities in Egyptian shops across the border, TIME said: It took explosives to do what diplomacy couldn't: allow Palestinians to go on a shopping spree –  Newsweek and CNN evaluated the incident  in terms of a public relations disaster for Israel.

 That’s what we journalists call ‘the human touch’.

The Israelis say it is up to the Egyptians to restore the wall and the prison. The Egyptians realise that popular opinion is with the Palestinians and everybody realises that Palestine is the main excuse for the existence of Al Qaeda.

What with Gaza, the imminent worldwide economic collapse   and climate change, all our lives are going to become much more interesting very soon.

Copyright©2008 John Maxwell

jankunnu@gmail.com

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 07:39 pm
Entry tags:

the serious moment

a press of shadows in the midst of day
reminds us of how fragile all things are
we take the serious moment for a play

too soon the brightness turns to bitter grey
and little warmth or light reach from the star
a press of shadows in the midst of day

we bid the noonday sun to pause and stay
not knowing how the form of things we mar
we take the serious moment for a play

we see the workers moving on their way
and note the tide has reached the harbour bar
a press of shadows in the midst of day

there is no grief though thousands pass away
another tune is played on the guitar
we take the serious moment for a play

too late we see the ship depart the bay
discover that we have now gone too far
a press of shadows in the midst of day
we take the serious moment for a play

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
2008-01-26 08:19 pm
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mozart for piano

i hear the voice of music like slow rain
bring down the calm of a most gentle night
inside we have a soft and buttery light

the fingers touch the keys without a strain
i've come to know it with another sight
i hear the voice of music like slow rain

bowing my head i hear the music plain
the fingers on the keyboard get it right
my mind and heart are one in their delight
i hear the voice of music like slow rain