Poetry – Time to make up your mind

Time to make up your mind

What sort of world do you want?

How are you going to vote?

Time to make up your mind!

There are fascists on the streets,

Fake news on the web.

Time to make up your mind!

Men abusing women

Cops shooting men.

Time to make up your mind!

Kavanaugh an abuser?

Trump a lying fraud?

Time to make up your mind!

Brexit a disaster?

May a weak fool?

Time to make up your mind!

Greedy, selfish executives

And A/I on the wind.

Time to make up your mind!

27.9.2018

It seems to me that we are not very good at making up our minds. We tend to vacillate. We get caught up in the mood of the moment, to go along with the flow.

There is so much going on, so many issues that need addressing. There are so many problems and so many fools, manipulators and self-servers who would love to convince us that they have the answers.

They don’t have the answers. I think they are using us.

To try or not to try – that is the question.

To try, or not to try – that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them.
I have been told that there is nothing we can do to take on the powerful who are presently destroying our planet, sowing the seeds of war, exploiting the poor and desperate and controlling us for their own greed and selfishness. That they are too big and too powerful and we are helpless. These massive global corporations who control our media, and through them our thoughts, buy our politicians, are funding both candidates in the USA election, are funding all parties in the UK, are running war for profit, creating inequality for profit, are too big to oppose.
I am pissing in the wind.
So we have two choices:
  1. We give up – retreat into the safety of our comfortable homes, despair at what is going on, feel helpless and acknowledge that the future is lost. There is nothing we can do but carry on our own lives and try to blot it out. Give up on our children’s children, the chimps, gorillas, elephants and all of nature. Accept the planet will be bulldozed for profit – to suffer the slings and arrows.
  2. We try – we oppose the wrong we see around us. We speak out. We protest. We campaign. We shout! WE SHOUT!!!!  WEEE SSSHHHHOOOOUUUUUTTTTT!!!!!!! as loudly as we can. We take up arms and oppose them.

I’m not one for giving up. I’m one for shouting. I’m taking up arms!

It may all be a gesture. There may be nothing we can achieve. But that does not matter. You do what is right with all your might.

Who knows? There are millions of us out there. The internet connects. Together we are strong. They told Ghandi he was nuts. They told Martin Luther King he couldn’t win. They told Nelson Mandela it was futile.

Sometimes – against the odds – great things can be achieved.

For the sake of the chimps, elephants, rhinos, starving people, the sweat shop employees, those in the filth of the shanty towns, the gorillas and polar bears, the rainforests and coral reefs, the climate and those being bombed, gassed and executed – we have an obligation to try.

Long Hair and the Sixties Rebellion.

A passion for education cover

Long Hair and the Sixties Rebellion

This was the time of long hair and flares. We were the rebels in the school. The establishment was finding it hard to deal with us.

In the early part of the sixties I was sent home for having trousers that were too tight or too low. As the sixties progressed I began to get sent home for having trousers that were too wide and too low. The girls had to kneel down in assembly to have their skirts measured to see if they were too short. There was much pulling and adjusting prior to assemblies.

The major bugbear with the boys was hair. The school rules were that your hair should not touch your ears or your collar. Clearly this was ridiculous. My hair covered my ears and was down to my shoulders. I certainly wasn’t giving in. Consequently I spent a lot of time at home. My parents eventually negotiated a truce. The school grudgingly turned a blind eye.

Then there was the business of beards and sideburns. You were not allowed to have a beard and your sideburns were not meant to be below your earlobes. Well I grew my first beard at the age of fourteen. After that it was growing time every holiday. I would return with my new beard each term and we would play a little game. The Deputy Head, one Miss Mclouchlan, would hunt me down and I’d hide until caught. We’d see how long I could get away with it. On one occasion I was peering round a corner in the corridor when there was a tap on my shoulder.

‘Looking for someone?’ Miss McLouchlan enquired.

I was send home and told not to come back until I’d shaved off my beard. After three weeks the twagman came round to find out why I had been off school.

‘I was told not to go back until I had shaved my beard off,’ I explained to him pointing to my chin. ‘I haven’t shaved it off yet.’

On another occasion I was sent home to shave it off. I shaved an inch strip down my chin and went back.

‘I thought I told you to shave that beard off!’ Miss McLouchlan boomed.

‘I have,’ I explained, indicating my sideburns and moustache. ‘These are my siddies and this is a moustache. For some reason she was not amused.

I wonder what she would have made of me becoming a Headteacher?