Poetry – Echoes of History

Echoes of History

Echoes of history

                Louder every day,

Leaving hungry children

                                                Shivering in the dark.

Civilisation crumbles

                Into choking dust;

                                Houses into rubble.

                                                Missiles hit their mark.

Security an illusion

                While tyrants rule.

                                Ruining the future;

                                                Leaving choices stark.

Opher – 15.3.2021

It is incredibly disturbing to see Putin directing the destruction of a country.

Why do we do it?

We live in sophisticated cities with people working and playing, worrying about fashion and whether they can afford a better house or a new car. Every normal. Lives filled with trivia – the school run, the cinema, a trip out, planning holidays, shopping and cooking. Ordinary.

We live in countries where there are debates as to whether we can afford to repair potholes inroads or replace cladding on skyscrapers, to pay teachers and nurses a living wage, yet we can but multimillion pound tanks, missiles and aircraft.

On the whim of a despot we can turn whole cities into piles of rubble.

How many trillions wasted?

If a building collapses, trapping hundreds, it is a global catastrophe. Yet we can callously deliberately kill hundreds of thousands of women and children.

Civilisation is just a short holiday from carnage. Slaughter and destruction is the norm.

We are nasty vicious little apes who pretend.

We are witnessing the reality of our nature. Humans are not very nice.

Poetry – Civilisation

Civilisation

A thin veneer.

A film of ice.

A wall of paper.

A tissue of lies.

A gossamer thread.

Civilisation is an illusion.

Through the thin skin

We can see the maggots squirm.

Pierce the fragile epidermis

And release reality.

It is peace that is unusual.

It is violence that is the norm.

All it takes is a nudge

To release the hate;

A prod or two

To elicit fury.

Inside, the tribal prejudice

Lies dormant,

Waiting for the spark,

To entice it into a blaze.

Always there are those

Who, for personal gain,

Are eager to release the beast,

To set it free

And profit from the carnage

In its wake.

For war is the normality of humanity.

Opher – 14.10.2019

I watch the racist thugs at the football stadia, the rise of Neo-Nazis, the division and hatred created by Johnson and Trump, and the nastiness of the far-right and I know – humanity is a violent, stupid species.

Throughout our history, we create wars, torture and enjoy abusing animals for fun. We have a nasty, brutal streak.

We love pain.

We are arrogant.

We love violence.

We never learn.

There is always someone who wants power or wealth at any cost. We are trashing the planet for personal gain. There is always someone who wants it all without wanting to put in the effort.

Our history is one of bloodshed and crime.

Civilisation is a chimera.

Poetry – Caught Between

Caught Between

Between the profits and the greed,

Between the money and the seed,

Between the madness and the war,

Between the illness and the sore,

There’s no room.

Between the pillar and the post,

Between the devil and the ghost,

Between the hard place and the rock,

Between the explosion and the shock,

There’s no room

Between the funfair and the ride,

Between the hunter and the pride,

Between the arrow and the gun,

Between the baiting and the fun,

There’s no room

Opher 13.4.2018

It seems to me that something is missing from this modern life. We’ve lost it somewhere along the way. It has been squeezed out.

Now, with our life of fun, comfort and ease, between the leisure and entertainment, between the purchasing and throwing away, we have lost something that was immensely important.

Now that most of us do not need to struggle for survival, when the food is on the table, the fridge bulges and we just have to turn the central heating or air-conditioning up, something has been lost.

Now when the trip to church, mosque, temple or synagogue and the reading of the verses has no impact on our daily life or the way we act, something has gone badly astray.

Somewhere in the het up struggle between NeoCon and LibTard, where all minds are clouded with tribal fury, a real sense of purpose has been waylaid.

I think I know what it is.

I think we have lost our connection with nature.

Poetry – There’s no room

There’s no room

Pruned trees in rows,

Furrows in rows,

Houses in rows,

Brows in furrows,

There’s no room.

Pesticide clouds,

Smoke clouds,

Particle clouds,

Mushroom clouds,

Clouds in shrouds,

There’s no room.

Weeds eradicated,

Pests eradicated,

Vermin eradicated,

Eradicate the fate,

There’s no room.

Opher 13.4.2018

There’s no room at the inn of nature. We’ve taken every available space.

A million weary creatures are looking for a place to lay their heads, find sustenance and give birth. They’re scratting around between the neat furrows of our lives and pawing over the detritus we leave in our wake.

Life is hard and getting harder.

Once they were part of a great cycle. They had their place. Now they are reduced to the position of pest and hounded for their lives. Each new year that passes brings another weapon to assail them with.

There is no place where they can belong.

Poetry – The Nudge

The Nudge

Sometimes my life is one long nudge.

For every yawn, scratch or words not said right,

There is a nudge.

It could be a nudge of judgement, a nudge of shock,

Or of annoyance, irritation, embarrassment or warning.

Sometimes it is a nudge of disbelief

That I should be so uncouth

Rude or thoughtless ………

And never learn.

There is a bruise of shame

On my biceps and ribs,

My thigh and ankle too,

That sometimes still fails to penetrate my brain enough to learn.

Thank heavens we do not possess telepathy.

A nudge in the cerebrum might jar my synapses

Into making sense.

Opher 12.10.2016

The Nudge

Fortunately women are civilising influences. Left to my own devices I’d probably be extremely uncouth. Yet it is a little restricting to find oneself pulled up for every imaginary social faux pas.

I guess our awareness levels are set at different settings on the gauge.

Poetry – A Flash in the Pan

A Flash in the Pan

We insanely think that everything will go on for ever as it is despite the lessons of history that tell us nothing ever does.

Our lives continue slowly down their path until a sudden event, a decision, a disease, a death, and they change forever.

Likewise it is with the history of the world.

Despite all the fossil record tells us we think we are here forever. We are not. We will one day be a seam of fossils in the rock strata. The thickness of the debris we leave behind will be determined by our own actions. That is the difference between us and all that has gone before.

We have the ability, through our innate intelligence, to determine our own fate.

The saddest thing is that despite that we seem intent on engineering our own demise. We steadfastly remain inept at addressing the problems that confront us. Instead of coming together as a species we remain apart as countries, companies and individuals vying, with voracity, for wealth and power in the face of the inevitable.

The Anthropocene Apocalypse looms and we seem incapable of breaking out of the selfish stupidity we are locked into.

The mantra is – ‘Expansion, growth and more!’ It should be ‘Together, intelligence and sanity!’

If we don’t change we will be a flash in the pan.


A Flash in the Pan

A flash in geology –

We came.

Held down by gravity.

We saw.

A species still in embryology.

We conquered.

With insane brevity.

Arrogant with no apology.

We knew.

Beset by depravity.

We grew.

Creating theology.

We thought

With undue voracity.

A chimp with ideas.

We flew.

Flawed with cruelty.

Right through.

Choosing a way of tears –

By choice.

Instead of what could be.

A narrow strip of rubble

We left

Hiding a sea of trouble

Created

By our unruly bubble

Bereft

On the shore of possibility.

Busy designing our own exit

With glee.

Blind with selfish greed

We ignored

The means to fix it.

The word

Was lost in the deed.

Opher 10.9.2015

Poetry – Outside Eden

Outside Eden

Inside Eden

                All was well

Life was easy

                Food was free

We were sold the lie

                Grow your own

Give up your freedom

                Be controlled

Welcome to society

                The hierarchy

Of inequality

                Toil and profanity

It set in motion

                The power and the greed

Religion and kings

                War and destruction

Opher – 3.11.2020

Once we were hunter gatherers. Life was easy. Life was part of nature, in harmony with the land. We developed our skills. We were fulfilled. We had purpose.

It all changed.

We were seduced by agriculture. We developed systems. We toiled. We built cities. We had heaps of possessions. We invented religions, money, kings, nations and theft. We invented work. We increased in numbers. We lost our spirit. We lost our purpose. We lost our place in nature.