Poetry – Screaming for Beat

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Opher

Poetry – Screaming for Beat

Screaming for Beat

The Beat poets were the start of a movement that wanted no part of the machine that society had become. They wanted life. They were on a mad crazy journey to experience, feel and gain knowledge, insight and satori. They smoked hash, took peyote and heroin to change reality and explore the dimensions of mind. Life was a journey, a vivid set of possibilities to be experienced. Every moment was vital. It had to be squeezed and its essence extracted. Life was for living, for kicks, for crazy, but also for love, satori and spiritual exploration. Life was Zen.

There were no rules or boundaries. There were poems to be created and shared; emotions to be garnered, sex to be shared, music to be bopped to and journeys to be undertaken. There wasn’t a second to waste.

Society was on a mad controlled rush to consume, exploit and use up. It was devoid of love, poems and purpose. Everything was regimented, made to fit, reduced or eradicated. Nature was unwanted unless confined to trimmed lawns, tidy flower beds and ornamental plants. If it moved – kill it.

For me that vision of society was a vision of a nightmare – an existence sucked dry, leaving life as a desiccated husk of a life devoid of feeling and passion.

The world was being tamed, destroyed, consumed and made to fit the plastic model. People were being controlled, trained to work and consume and tamed. Their desires were repressed. Their feelings controlled. Their passions doused.

The world was being transformed into a plastic nightmare of consumption and order. Nature and wilderness are being destroyed before our very eyes as the juggernaut of progress bulldozes the planet in its relentless greed.

We are being fenced in, tied up with laws and placed in our cubicles in orderly lines.

I want the chaos. Fuck the safety – I want the excitement – I want to live each second. It’s not about the length of a lifetime; it’s about the quality.

Screaming for Beat

Screaming at the injustice

The insanity, the madness.

Screaming in the face of destruction, devastation.

Screaming at the rape of nature, the slaughter.

Screaming at the mindless billions

Swamping all that is good and pure

With their synthetic plastic, neon boredom.

Screaming at myself for being

Part of the of the machine,

Within the machine,

Of the machine,

And at the whim of the machine.

Screaming at myself,

Consumed with guilt,

At my impotence,

Inabilities,

Limitations,

And inadequacies.

We should all be screaming

Instead of placidly sitting,

Buying, consuming

And politely talking

Platitudes;

Voting for psychopaths,

Allowing transgressions.

We should all be screaming

As the world is being torn

From our grip,

Nature eradicated,

And the planet

Transformed

Into a plastic theme park,

With Muzak, playgrounds, wheel-chair access and a curfew.

Where it is safe,

Comfortable

And there is no raucous noise to disturb the peace,

No insects to bite

And no, absolutely no, need

To think.

Opher 21.1.2016

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Elmore James – a genius on the slide guitar – Blues from Heaven

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Opher

Elmore James – a genius on the slide guitar – Blues from Heaven

The first time I heard Elmore I was smitten. I was fifteen years old and I loved the sound of the guitar. In terms of Blues guitar I had been introduced to Lightnin’ Hopkins, Howlin’ Wold (Hubert Sumlin on guitar), Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker and I adored the sound they made. But when I heard that extraordinary searing slide guitar of Elmore’s I was amazed. It was so strident and rich! The voice wasn’t bad either and the lyrics were great. Elmore was the whole package for me.

I had one album of Elmore’s that I cherished and played to death. One day I was motorbiking past Dobells in Charing Cross Road (London) and noticed two Elmore Albums in the window. It was late at night and the shop was shut.

The next day I made the sixty mile journey to buy those two albums. They cost me £5 each and I still have them. Each album had ten tracks of raw searing Blues. Brilliant.

Unfortunately Elmore had heart problems and died of a heart attack before I got to see him. He was due to come over to England on one of the Blues packages but it was not to be. I failed to see him play live.

Now you can go on amazon and order every track he ever recorded and get them delivered the very next day. There’s no hunting round for elusive albums and none of the joy of discovering a long sought after gem. I have 27 CDs of Elmore and ten vinyl albums. Back in the sixties that would have been unthinkable. My latest purchase is a three CD collect – The Ultimate Collect. It has sixty tracks (six old vinyl albums worth) and cost me £4. I have every tack on it but I bought it to play in the car. You cannot beat driving along with the CD Player cranked up high with Elmore’s guitar blasting your ears!

Back in the sixties Elmore was so hard to get that you valued every track and played they to death. You learnt every word and every note by heart.

I’m glad I did. Fifty years later I’m still loving it. I just gave a CD to my daughter-in-law – she’s got taste!

Photography – The Grateful Dead at the Bill Graham Auditorium 2013 – as Furthur.

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Opher

Photography – The Grateful Dead at the Bill Graham Auditorium 2013 – as Furthur.

That was one hell of a concert. Three hours of nonstop brilliance. I hardly missed Jerry Garcia. They were exquisite!

The Universe in Shorts – extract

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Opher

Maslow’s Stranger

The stranger appeared in the centre of the town. He was alone. Dust swirled in the deserted streets, dust-devils danced around the wooden walkways.

The stranger blinked his eyes. Everything looked strangely familiar but his mind refused to function properly. He was devoid of memory. Feeling dazed he looked around but recognised nothing. No matter how hard he strained his mind no understanding would present itself. He did not know how he had got here. He did not know where he had been. He could not even remember who he was.

His mind was a complete blank.

A panic welled up in his stomach but he fought it back. Not a sign of anxiety appeared on his face apart from a slight tic hovering over his temple.

He surveyed the arid town with wary eyes – the bold relaxed manner disguising his uncertainty. The sun shone from an unbroken azure sky. The buildings were old and shabby looking. The paint peeled.

Through slitted lids and screwed up features he nervously squinted trying to piece together where he was and where danger might emanate from. All the while he held himself upright, looking assured and cool, radiating toughness.

From where he stood, in the empty square, he could see that a high stone wall isolated the town from the surrounding land. It provided a marked contrast. The countryside outside was lush. It consisted of green hills that rolled away towards the distant horizon encircling the town. This dried out husk of a place was completely different to its surrounds, incongruously resembling an oasis of dust.

He stood there, holding himself aloof, poised, expecting something to happen. His presence here might precipitate trouble. He remained alert.

He hoped that he would appear calm and assured, radiating an aura of arrogant strength with just the right hint of challenge. If he was being watched he wanted them to know he was in control. Inside he was keyed up and afraid. He fought to keep his bewildered fear from surfacing.

Nothing happened.

Gradually the fear subsided and, despite the inexplicable strangeness of his circumstances, he found himself relaxing. After all, no untoward events had occurred yet. Perhaps nothing would? Besides the town was pervaded with a feeling of comfort and security, a calm familiarity. His senses detected nothing sinister. He felt at home here. Despite his apprehensions and immense confusion he found the tension draining away. He did not feel in any danger.

He had things to find out. He needed to speak to someone.

Still nobody appeared.

Calmer now, he studied the town with greater objectivity, house by house, road by road, turning his head slowly from side to side to take it all in. Nothing moved except the eddying of dust devils in the gentle noon breeze.

The stranger felt the sun beating down on him. He cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps forward. He did not quite know what to do but he knew that he had to do something. But which direction should he go? He stopped and then shuffled from foot to foot in indecision. There had to be someone around, someone to ask. It worried him that he could not remember anything. He had to talk. He had to straighten things out in his head.

Where was he? What was he doing here in this strange town?

Gathering his wits like a protective cloak he set out purposefully to find someone to ask.

The houses all looked alike. They had no signs, no numbers. He knocked at the door of the first house he came to. There was no answer. He knocked again.

At first he was hesitant, full of indecision. He felt like an intruder. He did not feel at home here. Nothing was right. There was a sense of hostility. He might not be welcome in this place. It felt so alien.

He turned away and was about to go elsewhere. Perhaps there would be someone at the next place? There was no one here to ask.

Perhaps he would find out the answers to his questions somewhere else?

Yet he felt a strange compulsion. The fear subsided. An instinct was telling him to go in. Gathering his courage into a ball he discovered a newfound resolve. He had to trust in his instincts at a time like this. There was so little to base his judgements on. Instinct had as much chance of being right as anything else.

He turned back to the door. He was hungry and a tantalising smell was emanating from within that house. The hunger rose in him and was overpowering.

He had to eat.

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Poetry – I mean you no harm

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Opher

I mean you no harm

I don’t mean you any harm.

I’m just allured to your charm.

Who would have thought that such simplicity

Would resound through corridors of history.

Yet this simple act of great desire

Has set the whole world on fire.

Murder, rape, fashion, conquest and art

Have played host to this bit part.

The result of this simple game

Is that kingdoms rise and kingdoms wane

And men and women are driven insane.

For this simple act you see

Is tangled with intense complexity.

The right to choose and select

Is married to the need to respect

Resulting in women chained in veils

And the invention of sin and hells.

In order to ascertain paternity

We have created chastity.

Yet this simple act of biology,

Designed to mix genes in embryology

Is connected with such fervour and intrigue

That it dominates – for want of a little seed.

Some dedicate their whole lives

To this pursuit,

Risk their future,

Become destitute.

Some sell themselves

To abuse

And never glimpse

That golden goose.

All for the sake

Of a teaspoon

Of fluid.

Opher – 10.11.2019

For the exchange of a little fluid careers are sacrificed, lives wrecked and history altered.

It sometimes seems to me that this act of love completely dominates our history.

Anecdote – Hunting Lizards, Slow Worms and Snakes

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Opher

Anecdote – Hunting Lizards, Slow Worms and Snakes

Hunting Lizards, Slow Worms and Snakes

It takes knowledge, skill and agility to hunt reptiles. Tony and I were experts. We had a series of sites that we would make our way around. In the early morning we’d often arrange to meet up on our bikes, complete with aluminium milk churn with lid to put our catch in, and we’d happily spend our day hunting.

The heathland was the place for lizards. We’d creep stealthily through the dried vegetation with eyes and ears alert to any rustle or movement and body poised. At the slightest movement we launched ourselves, fine-tuning our hands as we sprang. We’d bring our hands down and try to trap the unfortunate lizards. We were very good at it and often went back with a haul of lively lizards.

Slow worms and snakes required slightly different tactics. We rarely found them out in the open. They liked to sleep in the warmth and darkness under corrugated iron where they were safe from predators. But that did not save them for us. Corrugated iron was a common building material. It was used for roofing on huts and fencing. We knew where all the discarded corrugated iron was in the whole area and made our rounds.

To catch animals hiding under corrugated iron there was a well worked plan. We would take it in turn to quietly approach the sheet of iron, so not to disturb anything underneath it, and then fling it back and dive. As I flew through the air I’d look to see what was there and make a grab for it. We caught a variety of creatures this way. The easiest were the slow worms. There were legless lizards and as the name suggestion none too fast. They would be coiled up under the iron and easy to grab hold of. The snakes were faster. They would react as you dived and you had to be quick to get hold of them. There weren’t many snakes but we caught both grass snakes and adders.

The adders were very distinctive with their black zig-zag line down their back. They were a bit scary because we knew they were poisonous. But they tended to be small. The grass snakes were a lot bigger.

The hardest creatures to capture were the voles. They were quick. But I once caught a whole family of voles in a nest under the tin. I grabbed them with both hands and transferred them to the milk churn. I kept that family of voles in a big aquarium for weeks until the babies were fully grown and then I released them.

On one occasion I jerked back the sheet of tin and dived. As I flew I saw a big slow worm and one hand reached for that and then a huge grass snake reared up at me like a cobra and I instinctively grabbed that round the neck. It was so big that when I stood up and held it up at shoulder height its tail reached the ground.

That snake was big and strong. He writhed about and threshed to break my grip but I clung on. He tried to twist his head round to deploy his fangs but I was having none of that and gripped his neck even tighter. Then he started to exude this foul smelling excrement that he smeared on me. But that didn’t deter someone as mad as me. I was excited. Even when he let out these huge hisses it did not put me off.

The usual thing for us to do was to take our booty back to Tony’s house. He had a big enamel bath in his back garden. We’d empty our churn into it and divvy up the catch. I transferred most of mine to the big pit I’d dug in the back garden. It was three feet deep with a pond I’d created out of a huge old sink. I’d planted grass and shrubs and put plenty of rock to supply cover. It was full of my frogs, newts (both palmate and crested), toads, lizards and slow worms.

I kept them happy by digging up lots of worms and buying meal worms from the pet shop. I used to enjoy feeding time. I’d dump in a wriggling handful of meal worms and watch as the frogs, toads and lizards all came out of their hidey-holes to feast.

I put my king grass snake straight in there. Once he’d settled he must have thought he was in paradise. I hadn’t reckoned with the fact that he was big and powerful enough to get out of that pit. He only stayed a few days and polished off my entire stock of frogs before leaving. But I did enjoy marvelling at him slithering around flicking his tongue out and checking out that place. He was a wonder to behold.

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Poetry – Fire in my Head

Posted on November 16, 2019 by Opher

Fire in my Head

There’s a fire in my head

That flows through my arteries

Through my fingers

Into the words on this page.

It can make you jump

Or make you sing

Or turn your thoughts

To rage.

For there are those

Who would stymie fun

And control

Your every thought.

They strive to instil

Their doctrine

Into everything

That is taught.

That fire burns

And rages

That they should all

Be opposed.

For if we do not

Have the right

To be free

Nothing can be supposed.

Opher – 13.11.2019

Every time I read about injustice or intolerance it fills me with a rage. For there are those who would tyrannise, exploit or destroy – and they need opposing.

I’m glad I’ve got a fire in my head.

Corruption and dirty tricks in Politics. Are politicians now above the law??

Posted on November 16, 2019 by Opher

It is a sad state of affairs when politicians are caught out lying, doctoring videos, breaking laws, giving bribes, fiddling expenses and using all manner of promises – peerages and enticements to gain advantage and we have become so used to it that we no longer react. The truth is that we have accepted that they lie and are corrupt. It no longer surprises us!

So now the Tory Party has been offering peerages to Brexit candidates to get them to step down. Isn’t that an illegal scandal?? Wouldn’t that have brought down governments in the past?

Now we have the Tories deliberately hiding up a report on Russian interference because it will show that Russian oligarchs are major donors to the Tory Party and Russia had an impact on both the Brexit vote and the election of the Tory Party. Isn’t that corruption?

Now we find that the Tory Party deliberately doctored videos to create fake news and Tory propaganda. But we just accept it.

We find that the Vote Leave campaign used intrigue to cover up illegal excess spending in the campaign.

We find that immoral philanderers like Johnson and Trump who have a history on cheating on their partners are considered honest and honourable.

We find that lies and made up figures on Labour spending is trotted out and presented as facts.

The list goes on and on. Why aren’t people being taken to trial and locked up??

Worse than that – why do people find this scurrilous behaviour acceptable??

This is surely an all-time low. They are getting away with unlawful behaviour that we would find ourselves sued, prosecuted and imprisoned for.

Are politicians now above the law??

Poetry – Wonder is the beginning of wisdom

Posted on November 16, 2019 by Opher

Wonder is the beginning of wisdom

Zillions of galaxies,

Cascading in whirls,

Complex human beings –

Men and women, boys and girls.

Peering up at the skies

With questioning eyes.

The biology of a cell

And nature of thought.

Like green chlorophyll

Mysteries cannot be taught.

They make us ponder and try

To understand why.

Infinite universes

Where time has no end.

The evolution of life

And the way characters blend.

Until time passes by

We’ll be wondering why.

The creation of life

So complex and strange.

The way atoms and molecules

Join and arrange.

We can ponder until Kingdom come

For wonder is the beginning of wisdom.

Opher – 13.11.2019

Socrates said that wonder was the beginning of wisdom. I always used to tell my students to believe nothing. We did not discover new wisdom by accepting the old stories.

This is an infinite universe. To understand it and how it works is the imperative of life. Curiosity is what makes us human. To wonder how things work is the way we move to understanding.

Life is another great mystery. To understand how life was created would be incredible. Nobody knows. To create gods to explain the things we do not yet understand seems irrational to me.

We should wonder, explore, think, investigate and delight. That is life.

Poetry – Drabness

Posted on November 16, 2019November 16, 2019 by Opher

Drabness

They would stifle our lives,

Suffocate us

With their drabness,

Steal our joy,

Silence the notes

And create

Oppressive sadness.

Opher – 12.11.2019

I was minded to write this poem after watching the Ken Loach film Jimmy’s Hall. In that film the claustrophobic Catholic Church put a stop to dancing, teaching and music. They had the hall burnt down and Jimmy forcibly transported.

But it could have been any fundamentalist religion. It could have been the Taliban, ISIS or Boko Haram. They would have our women uneducated, locked up at home or behind veils, to ban music and to force everyone to pray.

Month: November 2019