Well, that’s that then. The Brits have swept their chips off the table and stamped off to the cash desk. How dare these Europeans think of regulating and taxing our world saving philanthropists in the City of Londres! If only we had some planes on our non existent aircraft carriers we would show these foreign johnnies some bulldog behaviour. Let them beg in vain for our chutney and orange jelly.
The Euro dream may or not survive, but the vision was there and I am very much part of that generation. Now the head boy will come back to St Margaret’s to the applause of the City prefects. With pay day loans at 1,700 % and the latest scandal of long term investments sold to vulnerable old folk too old to collect, you can see why we need to sacrifice ourselves to keep these guys here.
Since the Brits didn’t want to play, I’m glad the farce is over. All this stuff of demanding that Europe be a free market but not wanting to share in the responsibility for its continuance was getting embarrassing.
Emma thinx: Let them eat money.
OK Literatti – let’s get down on some poetry. Today I have been busy on a whole new project of compiling and editing a book of poetry on behalf of Gallo-Romano Media. Regulars will have heard me rattling on about my mate Oscar Sparrow whom I have known for many years. He’s a bit kinda prickly to be honest and is a tree book hard-liner. On account of that he’s scuffed along in a bedragglement of small press pamphlets, anthologies and Arts Council artsfarts. (An artsfart is a form of poetry only read by South American ant-eaters) Eventually I have persuaded him to put out a small collection of his poems via Rosina’s media outfit. Everyone knows that no one reads poetry except other poets and they don’t like it cos they didn’t write it themselves. I’m officially gonna be credited as editor and a small contributor. He believed that he has sold his soul to the forces of Mammon but he cheered up when we assured him that no one would read it and he wouldn’t get paid. It is at moments like that you know you are in the presence of a true poet. I wish Oscar were my brother so that I could love him.
- Death! Plop.
The barges down in the river flop.
- Flop, plop.
- Above, beneath.
From the slimy branches the grey drips drop,
As they scraggle black on the thin grey sky,
Where the black cloud rack-hackles drizzle and fly
To the oozy waters, that lounge and flop
On the black scrag piles, where the loose cords plop,
As the raw wind whines in the thin tree-top.
- Plop, plop.
- And scudding by
The boatmen call out hoy! and hey!
All is running water and sky,
- And my head shrieks — “Stop,”
- And my heart shrieks — “Die.”
* * * * *
My thought is running out of my head;
My love is running out of my heart,
My soul runs after, and leaves me as dead,
For my life runs after to catch them — and fled
They all are every one! — and I stand, and start,
At the water that oozes up, plop and plop,
On the barges that flop
And dizzy me dead.
I might reel and drop.
Dead.And the shrill wind whines in the thin tree-top
* * * * *
A curse on him.
Ugh! yet I knew — I knew —
If a woman is false can a friend be true?
It was only a lie from beginning to end —
- My Devil — My “Friend”
I had trusted the whole of my living to!
- Ugh; and I knew!
- So what do I care,
And my head is empty as air —
- I can do,
- I can dare,
- (Plop, plop
- The barges flop
- Drip drop.)
- I can dare! I can dare!
And let myself all run away with my head
- Plop, flop.
Dear me – I think I’ve been missing something for the past 24 years or so. Once I had realised that I had completely wasted my opportunity to be educated I kinda figured that clever people read clever books and listened to Beethoven, at least until they were ready for Bartók. Until recently I think I had been becoming more and more SERIOUS. I soon realised that the kids on the bus were not ready for the Shostakovitch cello sonata . To be honest I’m never been sure if I genuinely like this stuff or not or whether I’m just a bit up myself. Anyway check out that guy doing the Gershwin piano.
But the kids voted out the culcha and it’s been WAVE 105 all the way each and every day. Well, this morning I heard a song that made me feel so happy. I had the kids singing along and cranked it up to full volume. If you were at the traffic lights this morning next to boom box bus with the warbling old Doris at the wheel I don’t care. I rushed home and downloaded “Deleted Scenes From The Cutting Room Floor” by Caro Emerald. This is super album that makes you wanna dance, kiss and wiggle ya waggle. Oh if you like Caro Emerald you’ll like a French singer called ZAZ. This song “je veux” sung in the street in true “Chanteuse” tradition is a joy. If you love Paris and la langue francaise it’s a little gem.
Older people are having more and better sex according to a new survey. Over 70% of males and females over 60 say they’re having more fun than ever. Ho hum – that’s great but should we not be looking at the life style of the consumption driven brat tortured middle-agers who live in a blur of work and tail chasing? For late boomers like me it was possible to dream of saving up your life for later.(Actually I saved it up for a rolling infinite NOW). As pensions dwindle and opportunities atrophy these younger folk ought to think about having some decent sex TODAY. I wrote a poem about this issue. Check out “Boomer” here.
News on the radio that Dyslexic cops are to receive special notebooks. What I want to know is why every time I’ve been booked for speeding the officer has recorded all my details perfectly leaving no loopholes. Surely once in my life I deserve a dyslexic ticket that allows me to beat the rap.
Emma thinx: Chill – there’ll be another NOW along in a while.
Since I am supposed to be a writer of books I really ought to say something on the subject now and then. Writers can be some of the world’s least interesting people since they sit writing – often with quite a grumpy and taciturn manner. When I was in my poetic mode I did a fair bit of wistful wandering. Then I would have a couple of drinks and forget what I had thought. Poets like me can be quite up themselves to be honest. However, in my guise as Laureate of the virtual supermarket shelf I am experiencing a few moments of glory this weekend. My book “Knockout” is at No.2 in the Kindle Interpol section and at No.28 in both the Romantic Adventure and Adult Romance tables. This is astonishing to me. My short story “Sub-Prime” is at No.2 in the “Workers Rights” section and at No.6 in the “Working Class” section. Come on now my dear dear readers – lash out that 99 cents/86 pence and make a middle aged bus driver feel like a No.1 best seller. Thanks in advance guys – I knew we could make it together.
Dear Oh dear on the economy stuff. Seemingly we are all doomed. The market tail is throwing the dog off balance. The politicos will not do as they are told and guarantee to bail out infinite debt.(As soon as you pay some off they increase the interest rate and want more). I actually heard a City guy moaning that politicians are too aware of the voters and tax payers. The solution is simple. Get rid of the politicians and democracy and have free elections for bankers, traders, spivs and gangsters instead. It looks increasingly to me that the big players have nearly jockeyed themselves into a position where their hedges/ default swaps et al will clean up the plate and it will be advantageous to crash the show. Governments will then pour liquidity into the sieve and the well placed hands will catch it. I wish all the free marketeers good fortune and merely comment that the rule of Law and the universal acceptance of property rights will only ever be maintained by the State. Be careful how much you crash. Barbed wire might be a good investment.
Since I have been working more or less full time I have not been able to read as much as I would like. I am still with Bert Carson’s “Fourth and Forever”. I’m enjoying the read but cannot quite grasp the rules of American Football. In soccer I’m afraid that the offside rule is even more baffling than most items on the financial derivatives market. Wouldn’t you worry about a best selling romantic old trollop who could run the line with a flag and deal you a forward rate agreement?
Emma thinx: If the markets are free why do they enslave us?