Finding Pneuma
What left is there to gain?
Forever the pessimist, the social troglodyte, analysing yet afraid to engage.
Forever burdened, neurotic and indecisive, yet propelled by delusion of some dissidence, the embodiment of burr engulfed in rage.
What left is there to gain?
Knowledge of your lack thereof, humility and adherence. Still burdened yet thriving, empathetic yet bliss,
upheld by the understanding that what has come is so, yet that is what makes its sacred.
Brexit, the issue of our generation, just the word itself is polarising. The mere mention of being Pro Brexit is likely to see you littered with streams of abuse, referring to you as a Xenophobe or more despicably, an idiot. The prevailing idea of our ‘Liberal’ establishment is one of greater globalisation, the erosion of the nation state and the implementation of super state like structures used to subjugate the working class.
To understand how Brexit can help the working people’s, you must first understand how globalisation and neoliberalism have. Globalisation refers to the contraction of the world, at least at a metaphorical level. Take the EU’s freedom of movement of ‘goods, capital, services and labour’ an issue that has been disingenuously adopted by some right wing figures who care little for the real impact of such policies on ordinary people.
The idea that this freedom of movement is of benefit to workers is laughable. The labour movements power has always been drawn from the power of workers, the populace majority, to withdraw/withhold their labour as a negotiating tactic. The freedom of movement of labour has completely killed this tactic. Quite simply, for employers having a greater stream of potential workers ensures that you have no real incentive to consider the real life impact of your decisions on your employees.
A look at a GDP map of Europe from 2012 shows the clear difference in a he economic state of Western Europe when compared to Eastern Europe. This is a result of plenty of differing factors, that would require another article if I were to even try and explain. However in short, what is clear is that the economies of Western and Eastern European countries are vastly different. As such greater European political integration has benefited the East much more so than the West.
There are currently around 1.4 million Eastern Europeans living in the United Kingdom, totalling more than the 1.3 million brits who are spread across the continent. Fundamentally what you have is a shortage of labour in Eastern Europe and an abundance of labour in the West. But who benefits from this?
Well the working class Western Europeans do not, that’s for certain. More workers means more competition for said workers, but not only for jobs, for housing, healthcare, school places for their children etc. But do the Eastern Europeans benefit from this? Well the answer is yes and no. First generation immigrants undeniably benefit from the higher standard of living, but what about their children who is then become part of the future abundance of labour? Freedom of movement allows for corporations to recycle labour throughout Europe and as such destroys the value of labour.
Thousand Years a’ Mote
If there’s nothing hereafter,
emptiness after sorrow,
the end to all morrows,
where does one stand thereafter?
Scores of years end so abrupt,
each breath a curse the Midas touch.
For not all that glitters is gold,
existence may be a canvas yet each life is a mote.
A thousand years a’ speck,
we have a few scores of note.
A million years a’ fleck,
The more I know, just how little one can know of hereafter.
À Toi Mon Espoir
If without sharing you lead half a life, what’s the full service?
What’s the perfect portrait to make life picture perfect?
Should your lively thud decide to cease
I’d split my heart so yours could beat.
For if one thing is certain, it is time.
And such time has taught me well,
for it isn’t time we should grasp, its hope.
It’s hope that makes what is certain bearable,
it is hope which is good for the soul.
You cherish boats, you cherish gold,
yet not the hope which make us grow?
The hope to learn, to see, to know,
To be, to strive and rise from the bleakest of feats.
Hold the intangible dear,
Engulfed in hope we extinguish fear.
Wonder if I care at all,
Can I really care if I don’t share it all.
They share the load I try not share at all.
It would take 1000 years to share this all.
But for now I have seen 23.
For now I yearn for old memories,
and smile at the thought of more
as time levels and I grow.
If I could get 50 more,
With guidance maybe I can become a man of worth,
if time permits such things for me.
I smile at the thought of who I’ll be
and maybe then I’ll share a piece.
I don’t see the beauty of life when I close my eyes.
I see the purge of pain,
I see the death of tranquility.
The sum total of destruction,
For I am the stump that grows from the root of all what I resent but keep.
I am proof of solitude,
The orphan wolf astray from the pack.
They fear the darkness,
I fear the light.
As light reveals all,
even the shadows,
It takes light in order for us
to see shadows move.
So I fear the light,
I fear exposure, I fear not death
but life.
Beyond Reason…
Why am I still praying?
I have walked that thin line between a good man and an optimist.
We really should be on top of this.
Instead, we are still praying…
Yet I understand, nothing changes.
You’d say ‘all praise to Allah, one day we will make it’
then at the Mosque you’d pray we do
and at Sunday mass I’d pray for we too.
Me too,
but mostly you.
Pray for your growth and retention on this earth.
Yes, deaths promised but I’d pray that it hit me first.
In the end I’d still pray for you,
I’d pray your safe.
Still every time you weep I feel your pain but when I think of joy I hear your name.
So, in the end, I’m sort of praying for me,
Or we… or us?
As distance leaves us both hurt.
So, today, to save my soul, I pray for us in turn.
So ask me if I’m still praying, I’ll say “not to god but to reason”
To the reason within us both and that which exceeds us.
To thought and wonder and all that which is deeper.
I wonder sometimes,
Is it worth being selfless.
Shall I just see my side
and nobody else’s?
I guess I’ll tell my side,
but nobody else’s.
I guess I’m ensuring I’m fine
and if I’m honest that’s selfish.
As each moment passes,
life happens and I revise,
I try and try,
to see good in that what’s worthless.
Where lies lay in prey I try stay earnest.
As time decays I search for purpose.
A knife in my back knocked the wind out my sails;
but this is our story and no-one else’s.
I wonder who’s story it is if nobody tells it, if I leave it blank, maybe that’s selfless?
maybe only when I tell it am I truly selfish…
if this is our tale and nobody else’s.
SBIW, Asya Valentine ❤️✍🏾
Silence
As that fire within you builds, they can break your bones
but not bend your will.
Fighting.
You drop ideals which once seemed so heavy and true,
when you realise those ideals weren’t developing you.
Timing.
It can’t be right or wrong, for time is only time
and if something is right it shall always remain right.
Right?
If only all things were as simple as time,
would our existence be easier with a simpler life?
Silence.
I ask this question, I hear no answers,
there’s nothing.
Just silence.
