Have you ever had to smile when your down and your out, just to see tears swell your eyes when nobody’s around?
For the last thousand days you were ‘holding things down’, with not a peep, not a word, the slightest incline or sound.
Then you stop to think about what you’ve been speaking about, read your own words off the page but you can’t speak them aloud?
Wonder how good may it feel to be free for change? To see joy in a Mote, to reason again.
For Who If Not For Yourself?
If not for you, then for them
How many sigh?
How many fall?
I hear a cry.
A broken oath; so if not for yourself then for him, then for her, then for them.
If not for yourself, then for them.
Bare the cross and tread the fire.
How many times?
1000 + Love, for them,
not even a lifetimes enough.
Not even time shall interrupt.
Not even life can end that bond.
Until time is no more
and suffering has ceased, if not for yourself, then do for them.
Picture Perfect
There must be more to this.
I refuse to accept the premise of a life of labour and tragedy,
the promise of an eternity that never stands, a dream that’s never dreamt, a story so poorly planned.
A picture so bleak and bland.
Some say the pictures perfect if I say it is,
then I say it is, yet nay it is?
The truth is it’s only perfect whilst ones painting it, once it sits, the fade begins, the creaks appear, the canvas splits, the image shifts but we live with it.
It can’t ever be how we pictured it, yet, those cracks and smudges, rips and stains, the years of pain and joy that yield the page; that’s what makes life worth it.
‘Twas always easier said that done,
drown my soul in thoughts,
I’ll fix this and then mend that,
to find in the end I’m still the broken one.
You can fill the room yet be the lonely one. I wish I met one real friend, even if only one.
Still trapped in thought as hope is gone.
‘Twas always more idealist than realist,
to believe, more hope for a Mote of faith.
Avoidant and damaged, crass and callous, stoic yet broken,
But I’ll manage.
Maybe not thrive but manage.
Just maybe, just maybe.
Dreams Of Wonder: The Mighty Pen
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.
