Populism (A very short and rather basic poem)

POPULISM (A very short poem)

I’m neither left nor right just full of shite.

I’m neither left nor right just full of shite.

I’m neither left nor right just full of shite.

I’m neither left nor right just full of shite

I’m neither left nor right just full of shite.

I’m neither left nor right just full of shite.

Repeat until elected…

 

Indy Ref. 2 A Poem.

I understand your fear
What are we walking into?
Just look at all the foodbanks
Are you up for joining that queue?
I understand uncertainty
Of our countries destination
It’s all the fault of immigrants
Is the bigots proclamation
That’s the fear they’ll try to spread
Demonising the unknown
But we have bigger family
In that  European zone
I understand your caution
To have heedfulness is wise
“We’ll give you more of your own say”
Do you still believe those lies?
But what about the economy
Our pay will take a squeeze
So put your trust in bankers
There’s nothing they won’t seize
The way they treat a worker
Is more akin to robbery
You’ll break your back, work endless shift
As they shove you into poverty
But what about the NHS
They say it’s safe with them
As you queue for beds eternally
Until your life’s condemned
You see I understand uncertainty
What are we walking into?
But surely now you know
This is the last chance for a breakthrough
I understand uncertainty.
But what shall we become
I’m not sure, but look at this list
And you’ll know what you’re walking from.

Some favourite quick jokes.

Some of the my favourites. You can see me in clubs…I might not be doing stand up, but that’s where you tend to find me….   

My uncle wasn’t well in life. he used to have a cheap NHS pacemaker. It wasn’t so great…every time he farted the garage door would open.

Mt father passed away through having white asbestos all through him. The funeral was lovely but it took an age to cremate him.

A man said to me, “Hypothetically speaking you’re in a hot air balloon with Donald Trump and Theresa May…Who do you through out?”   I said “Probably myself.”

Government to impose cuts to mental health services. Self harmers were said to be initially furious but then spotted a window of opportunity

Andrea Leadsome famously said, “men can’t be nannies, because all men are potential paedophiles. ” I wonder what it was about working in Westminster that made her leap to that conclusion.

If Heather Mills and Abu Hamza were to have a baby together they’d make a pirate.

I saw in the paper the other day a headline proclaiming “The Hunt is on For The New Jihadi John. I thought these talent competitions have gone too far.

My name is Jock Scott which is a very Scottish name. I’ve got a cousin from Yorkshire called Hovis Broadband Miners Strike.

I actually typed tax evasion into the internet and it just went to Google’s homepage.

Gary Barlow is so tight that when questioned about tax evasion he wouldn’t even share his thoughts.  Sorry, I mean Gary Barlow OBE – Offshore Banking Expert.

In Scotland we didn’t vote for Brexit because to us the word just sounds like something’s been damaged. Brexit…it’s what happens when a fat lass sits on a chair.

I got the Donald Trump version of Cluedo. that’s the one where it doesn’t matter who did it, you just always blame the immigrant…and Mrs White always wins.

A UKIP councillor has claimed that the recent floods were caused by God being angry at gay marriage. I was sceptical until I heard that lightning had damaged the statue of Jesus in Rio.  God must be depressed about something if he’s started to self-harm.

It wasn’t all good news for Farage in the lead up to the election was it? He got hit by an egg in Stoke.  Because of that he now chooses to travel with four body guards. Fair enough…there’s six eggs in a box.

A UKIP donor has published an advert in the Telegraph stating there is no such thing as homophobia because the words not in the dictionary. It actually is in the dictionary. It’s sandwiched in between homoerotic and homosexual….which is probably the last place homophobia wants to be sandwiched but that will teach it a lesson.

So we finally left the EU. Or as UKIP pronounce it EUGH!

I actually typed tax evasion into the internet and it just went to Google’s homepage.

Gary Barlow is so tight that when questioned about tax evasion he wouldn’t even share his thoughts.  Sorry, I mean Gary Barlow OBE – Offshore Banking Expert.

Conservative Christian.

So you’re a Conservative Christian

Gods Heaven is your future

To me you’re just a paradox

Like some vegetarian butcher

Did Jesus cure the cripple

With almighty power of kirk

Just to sanction all his benefits

‘Cos now he’s fit for work

2000 disability deaths

Of the lame you are a hater

I don’t think “blessed are the money lenders”

Were the words of our creator

So you’re a Conservative Christian

Because you go to church

Yet immigrants from holy lands

You’d like to give the birch

I don’t think Jeesy Peeps ethnicity

Sits well with Nigel Farage

Does this mean that you proclaim

“I’m a car” when standing in a garage

So you’re a Conservative Christian

Your Pro Life stance is nonsense

The stuff of fluff and gloss

For once we’re born into this world

You couldn’t give a toss

So on you go you hypocrite

Ring loud the old church bell

If your imaginary friend goes by his book

Well see you all in hell.

 

Mind Map

Recently I had a poem published. That was nice. I’m going to enter the same competition next year but for a full body of work I need around 60. So far I’ve got about…err…ten. (And describing some of them as poems is taking that term loosely) So am committing to this in earnest. The piece below came from a writing exercise around mind mapping…but I thought they made a nice collection of words.

MIND MAP.

As I map I think first of the senses of the head.
I am reminded of a joke, “Why do we have nightmares? Isn’t our brain supposed to be on our side?”
I think of youth and a heavy Sunday paper round while listening to The Smiths.
I love to dance, but not as much as I used to.
The countryside is where I grew up.
My mother is old and suffers arthritis.
I like applause.
Making people laugh is as much a duty as it is a joy.
I fight the bully. This was among my dads best advice.
I had a motorbike accident. Lucky.
After 20 years I finally quit smoking. Why did I do that to myself?

An Imagined Syrian Refugee.

For a writing exercise we were to create a background for a central character. I imagined a Syrian refugee. All of this background is fiction but comes from research I did on the situation…

 

CHRISTIAN SHAMMAS (A Syrian refugee)

Christian Shammas is a 22 year old Syrian refugee. His mother Camila Abdel-Massih (surname means servant of Christ in the Arabic world) was a Palestinian Christian who fled to Syria as a child with her wealthy parentsduring the 1967 war. His father Tabarank Shammas is an Syrian Arab and Sunni Muslim. His father is from poorer farming heritage.
Although interdenominational marriages are not unheard of in Syria they are not common. His mixed faith upbringing led to bullying as a child.
Christians first name in the Arabic tradition means love and his surname means friendship. He likes to introduce himself by pointing this out.
Before having to flee his hometown of Damascus in 2015 he was studying dentistry.  He is fluent in English and French. (Both popular second languages in Syria although English is preferred.)
Despite being very well educated Christian is profoundly dyslexic which leads to huge problems for him when he has to flee the country.
During the Arab spring of 2013 he was arrested by Bashar al-Assad security forces with 13’000 other online activists and severely tortured leading to him walking with a severe limp.
He has a seven year old sister Mary Shammas who is entirely uneducated in any formal way.
During some carpet bombing Christian and his sister were separated from his parents. He doesn’t know if they are alive or dead. He has no idea which side was behind the bombing but is determined to find out.
As a refugee in Syria he is recognised by two of Assad’s secret police who threaten to rape his sister. He kills them both with a pistol he found in some ruins.
This forces him to flee the country with his sister with money he has stashed. He makes it to “The Jungle” refugee camp in France which is where we find him.
The only physical possessions he has apart from the clothes on his back is an I-pod and charger. The I-pod is filled with the poems of Syrian poet and Nobel Prize nominee Adunis.
He quotes this poetry often to his sister when she is distressed. The I-Pod is also filled with songs by Elvis. Listening to Elvis also helps calm his sister.
Whilst at the camp his young sister is being targeted by human traffickers.
The camp is now to be demolished and to protect his sister Christian agrees to have her moved to the UK. He has no idea how to contact her once this happens. Christian is to remain stranded in France. Whilst at the camp he befriends a Syrian man named Sayid Burhan who helps him with daily life. For the journey to the UK he entrusts his sister to Sayid.   Unbeknownst to Christian he is the leader of a child trafficking group. Christian finds out the truth a day after he last sees his sister.
Some Quotes.
 “To the country dug into our lives like a grave, to the country etherized, and killed, a sun rises from our paralyzed history into our millennial sleep” ― Ali Ahmad Said Asbar Adunis
“What did we lose, what was lost in us? To whom do these distances belong that separated us and that now bind us? Are we still one or have we both broken into pieces? How gentle this dust is- Its body now, and mine, at this very minute are one and the same” ― Adonis, If Only the Sea Could Sleep
 “If only we were not that seedling of Creation, Of Earth and its generations, If only we had remained simple Clay or Ember, Or something in between, Then we would not have to see This World, its Lord, and its Hell, twice over.” ― Adonis

Metafiction, Kurt Vonnegut and The Turner Prize.

I previously posted a play here (RAW A RESPONSE PLAY) that uses Metafiction a lot in the script. This was a first stab at something like this and I’ve only just realised how much I was being influenced by Kurt Vonnegut and his book Breakfast of Champions. I genuinely thought at the time I was doing it because of my experience as a comic…

Here’s what Wikipedia says about Metafiction.

 “Breakfast of Champions makes heavy use of Metafiction, with Vonnegut appearing as the narrator/creator of the work, explaining why and how he makes this world as it is, changing things when and as he sees fit, and even being surprised by events.”

In no way am I claiming I’m in the same league as Kurt Vonnegut. I’m posting this because I’m surprised how much I’d appropriated his style unconsciously. I haven’t read much of his work and haven’t read Breakfast of Champions in about 15 years, although I feel another reading may be on the cards soon.

Suicide, free will, mental illness, and social and economic cruelty are the main themes of Breakfast of Champions so you’d be surprised to find it’s also one of the funniest books I’ve ever read.

In the book is a character called Rabo Karabekian who is an artist who has sold an abstract work called The Temptation of Saint Anthony. Here’s a fictional image of a fictional painting. temptation-of-st-anthony

Although he’s not a main character my favourite part of the book comes when Rabo has to justify the money spent on his work to a group of angry and cynical towns folk. He says…

“I now give you my word of honor,” he went on, “that the picture your city owns shows everything about life which truly matters, with nothing left out. It is a picture of the awareness of every animal. It is the immaterial core of every animal – the ‘I am’ to which all messages are sent. It is all that is alive in any of us – in a mouse, in a deer, in a cocktail waitress. It is unwavering and pure, no matter what preposterous adventure may befall us. A sacred picture of Saint Anthony alone is one vertical, unwavering band of light. If a cockroach were near him, or a cocktail waitress, the picture would show two such bands of light. Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is dead machinery.”

There we go. Now you’re looking at it from a new perspective. Which is what most art is about.

Now here’s one of the new entries for the Turner prize.

bum

Looking at this you may come to the conclusion that the Turner Prize has reached its natural conclusion and disappeared up its own. But the point is this bit of art is by the artist, Anthea Hamilton, who has enlarged it from a design by Gaetano Pesce for a New York apartment block, to which it would have been a doorway (a back entrance, so to speak) for social housing tenants.

And now you have another perspective. No other great point to make here. And so it goes…