March 2016 - Page 13 of 17

Anecdote – How I passed my Religious Studies exam due to divine intervention.

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Opher

How I passed my Religious Studies exam due to divine intervention.

Religion and I have never got along. I think I was born a heretic. Either that or I am a blasphemous pagan at heart.

Through school I suffered the excruciating assemblies with their hymns, prayers and bible readings. I abhorred them. I also despised the RE lessons with all their bible bashing and indoctrinating rhetoric. My brain was impervious to religion. It bounced off.

Then when I was fourteen I discovered I did not have to do it at all. I could get a dispensation on religious grounds. All I had to do was induce my parents to sign the relevant form or write a short note to the effect that they wanted me out of all religious practice. Problem solved.

Except it wasn’t. For some obscure reason, that I do not understand to this day, my parents, who brought me up with a liberal, unindoctrinated perspective, and respected my views, refused to write the note.

That made it even worse. So I dug my heels in. I went to see the RE teacher and explained to him that I was categorically not going to do the RE. He could do what he liked. I was not going to budge. After a lengthy argument we came to a compromise. I would attend the lessons and give out the bibles. Then I would sit quietly at the front and read. That suited me fine.

So while the rest of the class filled exercise book after exercise book of boring comparisons between the four gospels I read great Science Fiction by Arthur C Clarke, Robert Sheckly, Asimov, John Wyndham, Philip K Dick and Robert Heinlein. I reckoned the content of fiction in my books was superior to the fiction in theirs.

RE was a subject that was sat earlier than the other subjects. We took our O Level at Christmas. I was surprised to find that my name was included. I went to see the RE teacher to point out the error. I had not done any RE; I should not have my name down for the exam. He huffed and puffed and did not like to admit his mistake. He told me that it was easier for me to just go through with it rather than trying to scrub me from the exam at this stage. I shrugged. I wasn’t bothered.

The night before the exam I borrowed a bible. My mum found me looking through it.

‘What are you doing?’

I explained that I had my RE O Level the next day. I had been intrigued by a couple of things. I looked up to find out what the Transfiguration was all about and I checked out what Jesus said on the cross. – ‘My father why has thou forsaken me?’

I always thought that was a strange thing to say. It seemed to suggest to me that at the last minute he was having doubts and had realised that it was all bollocks.

After ten minutes I became bored, which amused my mum no end. She knew what felt about the bible.

The next day I took my exam. We had to answer four questions out of five. Question one was about the Transfiguration. Question two was about the words Jesus had said on the cross. Question three was about a psalm I knew well from assemblies. Question four was a parable that I was familiar with. It was easy.

The next term the results came out. Only a third of the class had passed. I was one of them.

I have a qualification in Religious Education. I bet my RE teacher was as pleased as Punch.

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Poetry – An Endless Poem – a poem of despair.

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Opher

An Endless Poem

Everywhere I look there are people, slums, dirt, garbage and beauty. Such a short while ago the planet was so huge, the great oceans a voyage of years and the endless jungles impenetrable. The waters were pure and life in such teeming abundance that we took it all for granted. Beauty was extant.

Beauty is there but it is on the run. Where it is preserved it is tidied up and served up to be consumed and devoured by the hordes. Nowhere is inaccessible. We are a sphere of tourist attraction.

And still the numbers grow.

Every time I hear of a new vaccine or scientific invention that will save countless lives I sigh. The one thing we do not need is more people. Perhaps the plague would be preferable?

I do not like feeling that. On the personal level I can appreciate the agony of sickness and death, particularly for our children. I am filled with compassion. I would sacrifice anything for mine. But I fear we are sacrificing the world and it is too high a price.

There are too many of us.

What was once endless is now palpably limited. Yet we continue to plunder, destroy, slaughter and pollute as if it was infinite.

In my short life I have witnessed destruction of the environment on an industrial scale. The common become rare or extinct and the wilderness tamed.

The world has changed from an infinite universe to a tiny ball in space.

Still our numbers grow, nature is destroyed and we carry on mindlessly.

An Endless Poem

Endless seas

To sail to infinity and over the edge

To dump our garbage and swill

With ease.

Endless skies

To carry the sighs of our smoke

And the winds would carry off ours woes

And cries.

Endless trees

Forests like oceans of waving pleas

To chop and clear and burn

As we please.

Endless water

For our industrial waste to sully

The crystal clear gully with sour taste

And never falter

Endless meat

To tease and tame, butcher and kill

To have our fill and leave to rot

Not eat.

Endless room

To spread into and conquer

Wilderness and forest both incur

The gloom.

Endless life

To squander, waste and fill

With party kisses, frivolity without taste

And strife.

But now it is our numbers that are endless

Our technology that reduces space and time

We have machines to commit any crime

Endless has an end and is far less.

Opher 19.1.2015

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Poetry – Welcome to the New Slavery – an ode to the capitalist system

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Opher

Welcome to the New Slavery

I have arrived at the conclusion that everything we do is for the benefit of a few. We work and they cream off the profits. That is a form of slavery. We prostitute ourselves. We sell our time and bodies.

There are tiers. We are paid well in the west. Our unions have wrestled our wages and conditions out of the hands of the employers. They are not so lucky in the third world. Their labour is cheap, jobs few and numbers many. That is the ideal combination for the capitalist money makers. Those on the bottom tier live in poverty and are grateful for the crumbs.

They made the system that way.

We live in an age where we can vote on game shows but not on political issues. Democracy via representation is not democracy – not when our representatives can be lobbied, bribed and bought by the corporations.

Democracy is when the voice of the people is making the decisions. I might not like the decisions made by the majority. They might not be arrived at through intelligence or knowledge. They might be spurious, self-centred, ignorant and prejudiced. But I would prefer that to the way it is done right now – controlled by wealthy minds who put up the money for candidates and pull the strings for self-interest.

If I had a choice I’d prefer government through the people that via a small group of the wealthy.

The problem then would merely be – who controls the media?

Welcome to the New Slavery

Welcome to the new slavery!

We work so that others might get paid!

The world is run for the few!

My – how they scream and shout

If you dare to suggest

That any other way will do!

‘It may not be perfect

But ‘the system’ is better than the rest!’

Bellow the media crew.

Shady people press the buttons

To nudge us towards what to believe.

They who own the media own us too.

Unseen fingers control the markets –

Buy and sell us for a song;

Laughing as they tighten the screw.

Dreams, like candy, are passed around

For us to suck in our sleep –

Telling us the lie that we can join them too.

But it’s an exclusive club

And they always guarded it well

So that their fortunes grew.

Trickle down is the mantra

As they deceive with their lies

And keep caged within this human zoo.

Opher 18.1.2016

If you enjoy my poems or anecdotes why not purchase a paperback of anecdotes for £7.25 or a kindle version for free.

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Or a book of poetry and comment:

Rhyme and Reason – just £3.98 for the paperback or free on Kindle

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Anecdote – Thrown out of my O Levels

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Opher

Thrown out of my O Levels

The O Level exams were the big exams at the end of the Fifth Form (Year 11). They were the important ones, as important as A Levels. Universities used the grades you achieved at sixteen as an indicator of your future potential.

I’m not sure they were any indication of my potential. I was in an extremely difficult class where learning was not anywhere near as important as fighting or as much fun as winding the teacher up. I had made it a religion not to do homework and had not produced a shred for three years. I’d found that as long as I kept my head down I went unnoticed. The teachers had enough on their plate trying to keep order in the classroom. My twin interests were girls and Rock Music. I hadn’t yet discovered Beat poetry or serious literature. My world revolved around discussing Rock and Blues, chatting up the girls and deciding which party to go to at the weekend. Peripheral to that were my hair, beard and clothes. I liked to look right. Unfortunately these preoccupations tended to bring me into conflict with a numbers of teachers and the school hierarchy. They were busy trying to hold back the tide with a flood barrier and I was making waves. The school thought that my carefully nurtured appearance was a scruffy mess. I thought it was a triumph of individuality and expression of my underlying ethos.

My parents were in despair they thought my long hair, anti-establishment attitude and casual attitude towards my studies were going to prove detrimental to my future career. They were right. I seemed to enjoy making it difficult for myself. I despised fitting in. I always have and always will.

Even so I managed to achieve. I always did enough to get by and that infuriated some of the teachers no end. They liked the ones who played the game and worked hard. They thought I did not deserve any success. Once again they were probably right.

On the first day of my O Level exams I thought I’d try it on. Instead of donning the requisite school uniform I put on my black hipsters, and Cuban heeled Chelsea boots. I fluffed up my shoulder length hair and wore my denim shirt with button-down collars. There were a few young ladies I was out to impress. I can’t say my mind was fully focussed on the forthcoming maths exam.

The basis of my mind-set was that the O Levels were too important for them to kick up much of a fuss. I might get bawled at but they’d let it go.

I was not taking Mr Morrell into account. He hated my guts. His ethos and my ethos snarled at each other whenever we met. He hated seeing me hanging around with the prettiest girls. He hated my long hair. He hated the fact that I always came top in his Biology exams despite the fact that he knew that I did no work at all. It was personal. We did not exactly see eye to eye.

It was just my luck that he happened to be on duty that day when I walked in. He was a bit of a coward. Rather than confront me himself he called the Headteacher over and complained, pointing out the rules and regulations. The Head was left with no choice but to send me home to get changed. I missed half an hour of my Maths exam.

I scraped through. I managed seven passes, all grade C with just one B in Biology.

I bet that rankled. I would have loved to have gone back as a Headteacher to meet up with Mr Morrell. I’m sure he would have loved to see that I had turned out successful after all. I’m certain he would.

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Poetry – Hide – A poem for the desperate

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Opher

Hide

I wrote this poem after arriving in Brazil. We were told that poverty was rife and crime and violence endemic. We should take care at all times and be sure to hide all valuables such as cameras. We should leave money and jewellery in our safes.

I walked around Recife and Olinda. There were little children with young girls begging in the streets. There was garbage and there were shanty towns of corrugated iron. There were also immense apartment blocks for the wealthy.

This system does not happen by chance. It is the result of the systems we operate. We human beings have designed systems that create poverty. The inequality is the result of how we run things.

It does not have to be this way. We can design better systems. What prevents us from designing fair systems is greed and the desire for power.

I consider both of those desires to be criminally insane.

I would prefer to live in a fairer world where there were not huge numbers of people living on the edge. That would benefit them and me.

This chasing after money and power leaves misery in its wake.

There are better ways.

It would seem to me that firstly we could stop voting in power-mad politicians and secondly we could start thinking more globally.

Hide

Hide your camera,

Hide your cash,

Conceal your wealth.

Wear no jewellery,

Disguise yourself.

You are entering the land of hopelessness.

Hide your conscience too;

Because their poverty is down to you.

In a world of such inequality

What we have creates their misery.

Cream rises to the top

But so does shit.

Our smart clothes

And easy lives

Rubs their noses in it.

There is nothing to lose

When there is no way to gain.

They are victims on the streets

In a world

Run by

The criminally insane.

Opher 18.1.2016

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The Voyage Part 8 – Rio Part 2 – Redemption

Posted on March 8, 2016 by Opher

Day two in Rio started brighter. The sun was shining. Even the birds seemed to be enjoying the sunshine. Hundreds of Frigate birds soared in the blue sky, vultures hung on the up draughts and big flocks of different birds flew in their V formations in all directions. I got off the boat to discover a colourful, yellow night-heron fishing off the hawser.

We’d decided to have a saunter over to the square again, check out the museum, which had just been built and had a remarkable architecture, and have a look round in the sun. That involved a beer at a café and one of those deliciously refreshing coconuts.

The Square looked different in sunshine. Rio was due to host the Olympics and there was a brightly painted block of letters to prove it in the square. Like good tourists we photographed ourselves with the blocks of letters. Then we set off for Sugarloaf Mountain. It wasn’t the one that Neil Young was singing about but it looked just as enchanted.

The redeemer with microlytes

We boarded our cable-car and headed up into the sky with incredible views over Rio, Corcovado, the beaches and islands. The sky was blue, sun blazed, tropical jungle lay lush and green, sea blue, beaches yellow and the views were spectacular.

Up at the top we were level with the vultures and frigate birds. There were monkeys in the jungle, butterflies and flowers. It was just how I had imagined. I immediately wanted to go down and go back up Corcovado to see the views of Sugarloaf from there but we decided that the queues were too long. I contented myself by taking lots of shots of panoramic views that were all identical and having a close look at the vultures perching in the trees.

As the ship slipped out of the harbour that evening, I was on deck taking shots of the city and mountains in the evening glow. They were awesome.

Rio was grand.

The Voyage Part 7 – Rio

Posted on March 8, 2016March 8, 2016 by Opher

There was a lot of excitement about visiting Rio de Janeiro. It has magic associated with it. I think it was the majestic nature of those two mountains – Sugarloaf and Corcovado (with its statue of Christ the Redeemer). They strongly reminded me of the mountain at Machu Picchu. That was equally stunning. So I got up at the crack of dawn. That was not my usual time for rising from the pit but I wanted to see Rio appear out of the mist.

It was magical. Unfortunately it was overcast and a bit drizzly. Not quite the weather I had been expecting in Brazil. But it was warm and the low clouds, though robbing us of a pretty sunrise, proved atmospheric and created a spectacular backdrop as Sugarloaf and Corcovado came into view on the horizon.

I searched for Christ the Redeemer and was a little disappointed. I expected it to be bigger. As the clouds drifted by it would peek out from the mists.

As the ship nosed forward towards the dock in Rio a bunch of us more intrepid mariners watched the mountains slide by. There was an accompaniment of clicks as the perspective changed and we saw different shots. Planes took off through the clouds, frigate birds soared overhead, vultures circled in and out of the clouds.

Magic.

We slid into the dock as flocks of cormorants, in V formation, scudded by over the waves and Shearwaters sheared. It had the promise of greatness but for the disconcerting drizzle.

We had two days to sample its delights. Not long but long enough to get a taste. We’d planned out that day one was to be a trip up Corcovado to see if we could be redeemed (an impossibility).

On the way we stopped at the Fabulous Copacabana beach. The drizzle had developed into full-blown rain so it was devoid of all life, aside from a few hardy joggers and a bunch of robust beach volley ball players. It was apparent that Brazilians did not relish aqueous precipitation even if it was tepid. The rain gave it the appearance of Bognor on a typical English summer day. We headed for Ipanema. There wasn’t a single bikini-clad lady in sight to saunter past and turn my gaze. There were some great sand models though. It wasn’t yet raining hard enough to melt them. I noted the relative size of Christ the Redeemer was much exaggerated on the sand castles. We didn’t tarry.

We joined the lines and eventually got on board the train to take us to near the summit. It went through some rich tropical rainforest with views of favelas (the Brazilian slum buildings on the hills), exotic fruit and sweeping rain.

We walked up the remaining steps to the top and joined a crowd of rain-mac attired tourists all peering up into the thick fog where a faint silhouette of the statue could be discerned, in hope that the clouds might part as the seas had done for Moses. Eventually they did. It was bigger than it looked.

We went to the end and peered over into the wall of fog at the non-existent spectacular views. When we had sufficient photos of walls of mist we headed for café and a cup of Brazilian coffee (probably Nescafé).

We made our way back and had lunch. The rain had largely stopped but it was still heavily overcast. But staunchly we decided to head off exploring. We walked miles through the new square, the old town, into churches, cathedrals and museums. We copped a group of female drummers loudly practicing under the arches for the carnival. We went into the new cathedral and were impressed with the amazing stain-glass windows. We sat with the statues of the congregation in the Anglican Church, looked at the colourful murals around the city, the colonial architecture and gaudy colours.

Then we found a café and had a few beers.

Day one was done

Rock Music – Trout Mask Replica – Captain Beefheart

Posted on March 8, 2016 by Opher

Trout Mask Replica

Trout Mask Replica has the reputation of being the greatest Rock album ever released. The Marcel Proust/James Joyce of Rock music. I certainly thought so when it came out and I still do.

I was already a huge fan of Beefheart’s. I had been to concerts and lapped up all the previous albums. I adored Strictly Personal. As far as I was concerned Beefheart was the best.

I managed to pick up a copy of Trout Mask Replica before it was released in Britain. It had come out in America and this record shop had bought in a bunch that they were selling for a staggering ten pounds each. It was a double album but that was still absurd. But even so I was sorely tempted.

In the end I bought a damaged copy. One of the albums had been cracked in transit. The crack went through the first two tracks but amazingly it still played. There was just a minor click as the stylus went over the crack. They sold it to me for £4. That was still a lot. I did not usually buy albums at that price but in this case I made an exception.

As it was the American pressing it came with a lyric sheet. That was extremely handy. Anyone who is familiar with Don Van Vliet’s poetic coruscations and delivery will know how hard it is to decipher all the lyrics. The lyric sheet, complete with little drawings, was extremely useful. I pawed over it.

I also devoured the album and never let it off the turntable. I absorbed every note, every word and feasted on the cover. Far from being annoying the click of the cracked disc did nothing to detract from the brilliance of the music. Imagine how bemused I was when I later heard an undamaged copy of the album and discovered that some of that clicking, that I’d though was due to the cracked vinyl was actually on the record. It was the sound of Don turning the tape recorder off and on.

The music on Trout Mask Replica was a major step change from anything Beefheart, or anyone else, had ever done. The music was intricate and complex with interweaving guitars, strange polyrhythms and incredible poetry. I hadn’t heard anything like it before. Nobody had heard anything like it before. Forget your Sgt Pepper’s – this was the apotheosis of Rock music. I was blown away.

Well I took the lyric sheet into college to show a friend and instantly had it stolen. But by then I’d memorised the words.

Shortly afterwards the record was released in Britain for a special sixty three shillings. I’d paid more than that for my damaged copy! But there was no lyric sheet with this one! They were cutting corners.

A lot of people found it a difficult album to get into. They felt the music was jerky, atonal and discordant. It is a bit at first listening.

I think with Beefheart you have to get your ear tuned in with the early albums and live performance. Once it clicks there is nothing discordant about it. It is merely different, intricate and layered.

To this day I have heard nothing that compares to the Magic Band in full flight.

Personally I’m not convinced that Trout Mask Replica is the Best Rock album ever. I think I prefer the follow-up ‘Lick My Decals Off’.

It matters little. Trout Mask Replica was a blazing beacon of brilliance that still shines as brightly nearly fifty years on.

Poetry – Suffering – a poem of disbelief

Posted on March 8, 2016 by Opher

Suffering

There are lots of things that seem insane to me, things I simply cannot understand.

I cannot understand how we have created a system where so few people benefit and so many suffer.

I cannot understand how we remain so complacent in the wake of death, war and poverty, created in order to place powerful minorities in even more powerful positions and put all the wealth created in the pockets of the rich.

I cannot understand how we remain gullible enough so that we remain distracted by complete dross, bought off with the promise that we can join them via a lottery ticket or hard work, or given sufficient to maintain a certain standard of living.

I cannot understand how the rich and powerful manage to suppress their consciences when they are responsible for the suffering of billions.

I cannot understand why we do not create a global system to ensure equality, stop wars and totalitarian systems, stop fundamentalism, protect the environment and put an end to the needless slaughter of wild-life and pollution and environmental destruction.

It is not beyond our intelligence to create something that would work!

This relentless machine is churning up the planet for the benefit of a psychotic few.

Suffering

Hanging on a rich man’s whim

Helpless

In a tide of economic madness

Dreaming

Of a future for the children

Toiling

To find food for a family

Desperate

To hold it together