Poetry – I am a number – a poem about being controlled.

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I am a Number

I do not like to be controlled.

I am controlled.

Every time I use my computer or purchase something my tastes and preferences are noted. My choices are analysed and I am then presented with other options that will appeal to my demographic.

I am a number in a commercial racket.

I am a statistic on a graph.

I am categorized.

I can be taken for granted.

I can be wooed.

It is so easy to fall into this trap as your preferences are manipulated and you are presented with dreams, aspirations and nudged down an avenue towards the nirvana of possession.

We are numbers in a game that is busy devouring the world to create wealth for a minority. We are plied with goods, entertainment, distraction and life-styles.

It’s all good – as long as we do not think about it too deeply.

I am a Number

 

I am a number

I do not know what I think,

Fed with all my preferences

And narcotised with drink.

 

I am a statistic

To be analysed in the tank

A consumer

To provide figures

In someone else’s bank.

 

My needs are measured

As I am fed with dreams,

Thoughts and aspirations –

Nothing is as it seems.

 

A plastic universe

Surrounds me in full 3D.

A ring through my nose

Leads me to its melody.

 

What I think

And who I am

Is guided

By a group

Of businessmen.

 

They know best.

 

What if everyone was free

To think

And do what they wish?

Who would know

What products

To stream

Through the satellite dish?

 

Best that someone thinks

For me

Keeps me happy

With a head full of air;

Entertained

And distracted

So I don’t have to care.

 

I am a number

I do not do what I dare.

 

Opher 15.8.2015

Poetry – The machine – a poem about the world

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The machine

The world is run by people who do not care. They do not care about the misery they create. They do not care if their profits are based on exploitation, starvation and despair. They do not care if their methods leave instability, war and chaos. They simply do not care.

All they care about if the bottom line, how to earn more and maximize their profits.

It helps if there is chaos. It helps if there is inequality. There is a market to exploit. Desperate people take lower wages. The powerful require protection. There are weapons to be sold.

These people provide the funds for our politicians. They own our media. They lobby the government. Without their support the politicians are unelectable. They control the system.

They control the money markets that are the blood our economies. Without their investment we become bankrupt.

The control the price of commodities and manipulate the markets without regard to the misery that might be created.

The world is run by a machine of faceless, uncaring, selfish, greedy men who are simply doing business.

There is enough to go around.

There is a better way of organizing the world.

It does not have to be like this.

We could solve all the problems and make it fairer.

But we are driven by the desire to be one of them.

The lottery is not a victimless crime.

The machine

 

There is a machine that grinds away day and night

Sucking our essence into its claws,

Equipped with clamps, suckers and syringes

To suck the life out of our pores.

 

It is an engine that never stops

That runs on control

Manned by faceless, nameless men

With selfish, greedy roles.

 

We are fed into its guts

Into an all-consuming void

That leeches all our dreams

Leaving mindless androids.

 

Somnambulistic dreams and phony fun,

To distract us from the truth,

That we are being milked and then confused

To disguise the living truth.

 

A processing plant

Of computerized precision

That saps all intent

And robs decision.

 

The world is run for profit

Without regard to pain or price,

As the short term interests are met

Putting up the cost of rice.

 

We may die in war or starve

In slums amongst the sewage and disease

But somewhere in a villa

The cause relaxes, smiles and is at ease.

 

Opher 25.11.2015

Poetry – Strap on You’re Gone

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Strap On You’re Gone

There is a religious dogma that promotes hatred, intolerance and the doctrine that killing innocent civilians will make them martyrs who will gain paradise.

That is all contrary to everything I believe.

I believe in a pluralistic society where people who hold different beliefs are respected. Where people can hold whatever beliefs they choose without discrimination and live in harmony with other people who hold other beliefs. I believe in democracy, freedom, respect, empathy, equality and love.

I believe the indoctrination, hatred and lies that cause people to strap on bombs, shoot innocent people, fly planes into buildings and saw peoples’ heads off, is evil.

There can be no excuse for callous, cold-blooded murder. That is insanity. No god would condone that.

War is a terrible thing. Innocent people get caught up in it. To target them is a war-crime. The people who target civilians should be locked up.

I wrote this poem to express some of those emotions.

Strap On You’re Gone

 

Strap on                               Cop out                                                Islam

The bomb                           Devout                                 Wham Bam

Then gone                          No doubt                             Imam

 

Not long                               Coward

No song                               Gun fired

Just wrong                          Expired

 

Not cool               Jihad                                      Bad taste

The fool               So mad                                 Disgrace

No school            So sad                                   Just waste

 

Believed              No brain

Deceived             In pain

Aggrieved           God’s name

 

So cruel                                                Bye wife              Savage

Bomb mule                         No life                   No age

A tool                                    Slice knife            In cage

 

Sadist                                    Preached at

Not missed                         Screeched  at

Unkissed                             Teached at

 

Doctrine                               Wants more                       In hood

No sin                                   Encore                                  He would

Tout fin                                                Still sore                               No good

 

Power                                   Attack

Cower                                   Hack hack

Sour                                       Whack whack

 

Heaven?              Dogma                  God’s will

For when?          Too far                  To kill

Amen?                 Death star           Pig’s swill

 

Opher 25.11.2015

Poem – Out of darkness – A poem about hope from terrorism.

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Out of Darkness

I am angry. I cannot understand the mentality of anyone who believes it is not only OK, but a commandment, to heartlessly shoot some unarmed person, to rape a child, to slice a throat. I cannot comprehend.

Religious fundamentalism dehumanizes people.

There is no love, tolerance or freedom. It is toxic.

Religious fundamentalism, whether it is from the god-fearing Christians of the Southern States of America or the Jihadist sadists of the Arab Muslims, is a medieval insanity.

It is enough to make you hate.

It is sufficient to make you want to drop bombs, destroy and exterminate.

The thoughts of the poor innocents being tortured and slaughtered is as bad as anything the Nazis did. The fascism of of the Caliphate is beyond humanity.

Yet it is humanity. Cruelty is what we are good at. Callousness is our trademark. We care about nothing. We rape the planet with impunity.

We are all savages.

I know that dropping bombs kills innocent people too. It traumatizes and alienates. It twists minds. For every savage killed two jump up to replace them. The traumatized are broken.

The only way forward is education, love and cure. Those that hate need the treatment of friendship and love.

We should drop love bombs.

 

Out of Darkness

You don’t banish dark

Without light.

You don’t banish hate

Without love.

You don’t build a better world

Without tolerance.

You don’t believe in evil

Because it is written.

You don’t allow anger

To make you hate.

 

Let us bring

The love, light and tolerance.

 

There is a better way.

 

Opher 14.11.2015

Poetry – Music is no good – a poem about freedom

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Music is no good

I am happy if anyone else wants to live in the seventh century. I am happy for them to live in whatever costume they like and to apply their own laws as long as I am free to have my say, and that they don’t indoctrinate children, or practice inequality and intolerance.

I despise the blind hatred and psychopathy that is fundamentalism.

I want to live in peace and harmony without constraint.

If there was a god who sanctioned rape, torture and ritual slaughter then I would be forced to oppose him.

This universe is too awesome to have been created by a psychopathic deity.

I love this world – its colour, life and beauty. I love literature, art, poetry, dance, drama and music. I love diversity, love, friendship and fun. I am an individual. I will not be bound, shackled or made to follow any doctrine not of my choice.

I love life.

I do not love death.

 

 

Music is no good

 

Music is no good

Science is no good

Thinking is no good

 

What is wrong with being free?

 

Women are no good

Freedom is no good

Dance is no good

 

What is wrong with freedom?

 

Film is no good

Other religion is no good

Fun is no good

 

I will fight to be free.

 

Love is no good

Individuality is no good

TV is no good

 

Freedom is a cherished belief.

 

When good is no good there is a cause.

 

Opher 14.11.2015

Poetry – Dancing on shrapnel – a poem to my mother & the Second World War

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Dancing on Shrapnel

My mum used to tell me about her life in the war. She would visit the Dance-Halls and dance with the American soldiers. It was the time of the Big Bands and the Yanks had money and were exciting. England was suffering. It was the blitz and London burned. Every night there would be bombing raids.

They’d come out of the Dance Hall and walk home so full of life, dancing down the street. The bombers would be droning overhead and the ack-ack would be firing, crumping fireworks in the sky.

Big Bertha was a large gun mounted on a railway cart so that it could be moved and not become targeted. It would pound away at the planes above.

All around them lumps of red-hot shrapnel would be falling. But they never put their tin helmets on. They were young and felt to be immune. In the morning they would find the whole road littered with chunks of metal fragments from the guns.

I could picture her spinning and skipping down the street, singing her head off, with all hell let lose above.

 

Dancing on Shrapnel

 

Young and frivolous

With nylons from the Yanks.

Dancing at the Playhouse

To the Big Band romance.

 

Carefree and laughing

Walking home in the pitch

Black crumping hell –

Dancing on shrapnel.

 

Twirling in the dark

As ‘Big Bertha’ barks

From the railway line

Doing fine.

Laughing to the sky

As the jagged fragments fly.

 

Invulnerable,

Immune,

Shielded by a lack of years.

Full of the sanctity

Of innocence

With no tears.

 

Skipping to a silent tune

To the fireworks in the sky

As the red hot metals fly.

Jitterbugging without a care

On an all-consuming high.

 

Giggling to a carefree tune;

Tin hat for sell,

While dancing on shrapnel.

 

Opher 14.11.2015

Poetry – Religious Apes – a poem about fundamentalism.

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Religious Apes

I wrote this following the terrible terrorist attacks in Paris. I express my solidarity with all people who stand for tolerance and freedom.

 

People love a cause. They want to believe.

These terrorists are fundamentalists. They believe there is a god, there is a paradise and that every word that Mohamed wrote is true and to be enforced verbatim.

They believe that if they martyr themselves they will wake up in heaven.

They want to die.

They want to return the whole world to the order and systems laid down by Mohamed in the seventh century.

They wish to kill huge numbers of people – more than Hitler ever dreamt of. These include all apostates – The Shia, Yazidi, etc. then Jews, atheists and Christians (who do not convert or subjugate themselves). What their plans for Buddhists, Hindu’s and other religions is probably death as unbelievers.

They are instructed to kill apostates, enslave young girls for sex, to kill kuffars and establish Sharia law. Takfiri is a medieval doctrine that calls for true Muslims to ‘cleanse’ the world. It is a primitive and evil, intolerant doctrine.

There is no reason or morality involved.

To that end they are setting out to battle humanity.

But they do not care that they cannot win.

They want to die.

They believe that their establishment of a Caliphate will bring forward the ‘end of day’. The apocalypse will culminate God’s will.

The black and white, total doctrine appeals to those who crave to believe.

Most religious people are tolerant, caring, moral people. Fundamentalists are irrational, extreme and psychotic.

The gullibility of humans never ceases to amaze me.

 

Religious apes

Religious apes,

Ignorant and hate filled.

Christian, Muslim, Hindu or Jew,

The fruits are the same

Just a different

Chosen few.

It is not hard

To conceive

Why I don’t

Believe.

 

Opher 15.11.2015

Poetry – reblogged – Where does it hurt?

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I think this sums up my thoughts on the terrible damage being done to the planet through environmental degradation and the rise of war and fundamentalism.

Poetry – Mindless mincemeat – A poem about suicide bombers

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Mindless Mincemeat

It is all a question of belief.

 

You believe in God or you don’t.

You believe there is an afterlife with Hell or Heaven or you don’t.

You believe that the Holy Books are written by God through a human mediator or you don’t.

 

I don’t believe any of that.

 

I do not believe in any God.

I do not believe there is anything after death.

I believe that all the religious books were written by men.

I believe religious belief is hard-wired into the human psyche.

I believe that humans are desperate to believe.

I believe that human’s belief is the result of upbringing, indoctrination and desperation to find answers.

I believe that converts are generally more convinced and zealous than those born into the belief.

 

For most religious people this is of no particular consequence. They might argue with me, feel sorry for me or try to persuade me to believe, but most do not see it as a problem.

For a religious fundamentalist my stance is blasphemy. I should be killed for my views.

In medieval Britain people who doubted Christianity would be tortured to force them to confess and reaffirm their belief in order to save their souls.

I don’t need my soul saving. I don’t have one.

 

The zealots of ISIS believe.

 

They believe all who do not share their beliefs should be converted or killed. They themselves are eager to get out of this world. I love this world.

 

This is why I think religion has a potential to be evil.

 

Mindless Mincemeat

Mincemeat in the wind

With imaginary virgins on the horizon.

The rise of indoctrination –

Something to keep your eyes on.

 

Islam – the darkest cloud

From today’s disease is spread.

Intolerance and stupidity

Paradise fills gullible heads.

 

Murderous intentions

To all who do not agree.

Beheadings, crucifixions

Delivered by decree.

 

Fostering hatred to harvest death,

Martyrs with no doubt,

Callous killers with no remorse

Or mercy, looking for an out.

 

15.11.2015

Poetry – Life is binary – A poem about limited choices

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Life is Binary

I was thinking about all those decisions that we make in life. You do something or you don’t. It seemed to me that everything is really shades of grey but there are so many decisions that are stark.

Life is about nuance. If you live it as black and white you miss out on the full range.

Binary is only two options but we have an infinite number of possibilities.

I can never make my mind up but then I go and do something really impulsive without thinking.

Yet so much is a choice between two options.

We’d better make sure we make the right decisions.

This poem was a bit of fun.

Life is Binary

 

Life is binary

Yes or no?

It’s black and white

Don’t you know?

 

Plus or minus?

Is or isn’t?

Stop or go?

Lord or peasant?

 

Binary is good

Off and on,

Shut or closed

Silence or song

 

I’m in two mimnds

Dark or light,

Hot or cold,

Fight or flight.

 

Life is binary

Tasty or bland,

Boring or fun

Ordinary or grand.

 

Opher 14.11.2015