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Category Archives: political

Does he suck his thumb at night when thinking back on the day…
Of the plans and procedures he secretly fudged in so many ways
In fright does he quiver at the pain and mayhem caused
Or does it not even bring even a second of reflective pause
That he filled his own plate and drained his oversized mug
rubbing his huge gut with a full face all smug
While the rest of the many wept silently in pain
For inside they all know it will happen again

The lust for more continues to dull his eyes
And fills his lips with even more filthy lies
So he justifies the abundance of plunder he has seized
Saying “this is just what my country needs”
The few get more and the most get less
And the rest… well it’s all just a godless mess

The once oppressed victim is now the oppressor
The great hero revolutionary is now the slave boss of the lesser
His singing of songs, dancing and casting of spells
Increases in might as it dries out the wells
in the hearts of the people who will queue, longing to be quenched
While it’s increasing poverty and oppression in which they are drenched

But they still seek for their heavenly king to unfold
Who will retell their story with glories untold
Patiently holding hands with ancient tradition
In desperate, blind hope they volunteer…
a suicidal mission

And who will stand up and speak up for the masses oppressed?
The obscenely salaried politicians they say…

…who would have guessed?

*

in the days of yesteryear
they dropped bombs on our heads
destroying our bodies, our stock and our land
beating us physically into submission
forcing us to surrender to the will of their force
stripping our ground bare of any life
stripping us of our own produce
and this in the same fields that gave us birth
where we once labored and lived in abundance
in order to multiply the abundance of their own seeds
so that we would serve them forever

in the days of today and for the days of tomorrow
they drop leaflets instead of bombs
and promotional messages are pressed before our eyes
screaming their wares as the nectar of the future
wearing us down, beating us into helpless submission in our minds
silently pressing us to surrender to the force of their will
slowly striping us of our own means of production
relinquishing us of our own will to live in our own lands
coerced instead to consume and produce foreign crops in abundance
injecting their alien seeds into us as carriers
that we may ourselves become the land of the produce
the aphids and the ants in twisted union

alien products dreamed up in the virtual larders of the greedy
new delicacies crafted for their rich enjoyment
they call it marketing
and we are deceived and turn on each other as their marketers
but we ourselves are the marketed
and we are the bought and sold
tricked into buying and selling to each other
tricked into buying and selling each other
bewitched into seeking personal pleasure
personal dominance and power
filled with vain visions of a fabricated self
all to alleviate poverty within
and the poverty without
imaginary fruits of illegitimate roots

yes, the bombs still drop
but apparently only softer
at least to the naked ear
it seems there is little more than the sound of the marketplace criers
swarming, filling the networks
and the desperate bleating of the sheep
who are filled, but left forevermore hungry
enlightened, but always kept in darkness
to be found everywhere, yet remaining lost
even to themselves
while those who have, have even more
and those who have not
lose even that which they think they had
obediently celebrating the rise of the new age
and the freedom chants of the death of violence
songs that sing there are more bullets in the air

but in between the lines
hidden deep in the small print
only a flittering flutter can be heard
virtual leaves, like paper leaflets
falling peacefully to the hardened, barren floor

I don’t know of any other species that viciously and randomly destroys its own kind just to publicise some inane point of sub-cultural political opinion

even in nature one species preys on another species for survival but very seldom if ever on their own kind

only possibly in extreme instances of desperate survival will the predator turn on its own kind yet this seems to be a most salient characteristic of modern humans

we speak of peace and truth, harmony and love, saving our planet and protecting the innocent ones… and if they won’t listen we will kill to make ourselves heard

 

amazingly it has been suggested by scientific research that even with all the violence in our day we are nevertheless living in the most peaceful of era’s in the history of mankind

but violence has shifted subtly in this age of information and great intellectual achievement

… each and every day corporate business and the pervasive practice of the frenzied global religious epidemic we call Capitalism and Free Market Enterprise methodically bombs us all to bloody pieces as we make the daily marathon to the commodity stores

 

saying or even thinking that religion is the answer is delusional denial at best

if anything religion is very possibly the seedbed at the forefront of this kind of violent sectarianism and self-hatred

 

and as far as we know animals are mostly instinctual

we humans on the other hand seem to possess the unique ability to think about our thinking…

some call it our soul, or our spirit

some believe we are the noblest of all the creatures

 

so we think about things

and we act

like this

 

and we thinkers decide who will think over us … and for us

we call it Democracy

 

they say they listen to us, but they lie

and we listen to them

and we copy them

we follow them

we even worship them

we celebrate the greats amongst us

and especially those who commit the most violence against ourselves

and themselves

 

because violence against one is violence against all

for we all are one

 

whether we think so or not

 

 

A beauty, celebrated by a significant sector of our society is stripped once again and exposed, only this time in disgust and to public outrage.
This beauty was once on display before us and we gazed upon her with desire and lustful admiration but now this beauty has turned ugly by simply saying something that somehow cuts us deep, causing us to react in anger, even disgust.
And we turn towards her again… all of us, from all sides…

http://www.timeslive.co.za/local/2012/05/04/racist-tweet-model-stripped-of-title-by-fhm

One concerned person, perhaps speaking for most of us I dare to suggest, posted this sentiment:

“No kidding? This disgusting behaviour keeps dragging us back into the dark ages.”

She was stupid to tweet what she did, no doubt,… (and she has acknowledged this already) and the expression and its sentiment is without any doubt unacceptable, but I think on all sides of the politico-cultural swamp we think and feel the same things.
Perhaps some of us are more “socially appropriate” about it all and don’t succumb to that many ‘irrational’ outbursts and also not in such a public forum, but I believe it’s deep in there… in all of us.
Yes, she is totally out of line, but we perhaps should consider that it might not be any more than just us turning on her in a bestial “pack-mentality” … Perhaps vainly to purge ourselves of these inner demons through her vicarious substitution?
We are a sorry bunch, hiding behind the illusionary veneer of the vanity of our belief in ourselves that we are the worthy possessors of a superior intellect…. That we are above the other creatures, that we are good and upright, civil and morally just?
Instead, I’m sorry more for us as a species than for her alone…. It’s sad, very sad.

http://mg.co.za/article/2012-03-01-angelinas-right-leg

It wasn’t that long ago when we were all up in arms about the POIB (Protection of Information Bill) and the need to protect the freedom of the press and their responsible democratic role in informing the public about…

…me too, I also was mobilised. … the ANC governments diabolical attempts to cover up their rampant corruption and sinister underhand goings on are despicable to say the least …. (still ongoing … perhaps quietly gathering momentum under cover of the frenzied press maelstrom of Malema’s expulsion from the ANC – who knows?)

BUT, is this the press we were/are trying to protect..? … the press liberated, mobilized… and telling us … what? …

…what we want to hear? … definitely… or maybe what we want to hear voraciously piggy-backed on the revenues such repugnant and seductively sensationalized “press” will generate for their own greedy little coffers…

… or maybe it’s the press – that gaggle of educated, sophisticated intelligentsia hooked and dangling with hungry mouths agape as they are led along and played ruthlessly by a cunning master to provide the exact sensationalistic, diverting cover for other more sinister covert operations…?

so, is it about truth and objective journalism in the quest to inform and protect our floundering fledgling democratic society … or is it all about the money? … all about the “WIIFM” (What’s In It For Me)?

… and now, here I am … mobilized and once more up in arms about a leg…

… and the way it’s all seemingly such incredibly “Big Press” in a sick society perhaps gone to hell and back way before the end has even come…

If we define the nature and function of the sheep by the sheep pen they are herded into perhaps we are merely nothing more than meat traders?

That infamous number “666” – that infamous character of dark, evil mystery – that infamous world system of suffering and subjugation.

Linked to the end times and specifically the destruction of all things- especially the good and the righteous, the upright and the holy.

Contemporary orthodox theology has made many assertions, declarations and published varied opinions on what this is  all about.   The Judeo-Christian biblical texts seem to suggest clearly that it is the number of a man. Some even believe this man will be killed and then come alive again, perhaps as a mimicking mockery of the Christ portrayed as having also been killed and then resurrected.  It also suggests that it is the ultimate sign of the anti-Christ – the one who will blatantly oppose and set himself up against the God of heaven – declaring himself to be God.

There are many who feel that the mark of the beast is a serialized code that will be legislated to be imprinted or inserted on or into the foreheads and/or the palms of the hands of all the people of the earth and those who refuse this serialised encoding will be deemed illegal, not be able to trade, thereby excluded from the ‘common wealth’ – ensuring their destruction.

Many are waiting for an individual to present himself and seize global power and extract worship, honour, adoration and servitude from all under fear of death.  People scan the horizons for a sign.

Many predictions of the end of the world have come and gone.   And surely we can be confident that many more will follow.

And me, … what do I say about it all? … sorry, but I have no specific revelation to add to the pot at this stage as to who, when other than just this one nagging sense… I have to confess that whenever I hear or think of the times we live in and the end times or the “mark of the beast” these days I just cannot shrug off the thought of all those little crosses we place so excitedly, expectantly, dutifully even faithfully on little papers which are hopefully inserted into ballot boxes at polling stations from time to time.

You know, those boxes we so desire the whole world to have the privilege of access too, … that they too can join in to make their own mark of independence and sovereign self-determination…

it is all screwed up … do not adjust your sets… you have a clear picture. ….

…..  but we have a remote control and a bouquet of channels to flick through to get the exact picture we feel most comfortable with …

however,

… maybe we don’t want to see it really?

the static hiss and crackle comforts us …

it blurs the reception and shifts the edges just enough for us to keep watching

apparently we are the most enlightened generation ever

… apparently we know more than ever before

… and apparently this new found knowledge is increasing exponentially

…. and maybe the story of there being two trees in the garden is true after all?

… maybe the fruit of that one bite has multiplied accordingly …

… . .  . and maybe now that tempting, initial taste has moved from a bite to a banquet … and the banquet to an orgy

with distended bellies we lie there

full, yet starving

but thankfully governance has stepped in and now we are being placed in a feeding scheme

huge deliveries come in daily … right to our door in fact

they keep on rolling in … and it simply doesn’t stop

one could even think that we are being force-fed

force-fed involuntarily … or not?

…. but it is our right… our inalienable rite to choose

…. because after all, we are Gods, are we not?

Could it be possible that a main weapon being deployed is that of desensitizing us?

. .. and media bombardment does this so very well …  and we love our media .. and we love to be loved … and our media loves us … a delightful match made in the garden of Hedon

we are educated and remarkably intelligent but we seem unable to distinguish clearly between any of the data that is fed to us…

what initially looked good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom is now so confusing

maybe we are too busy covering ourselves and hiding behind trees?

so we shut down our emotions and only when it happens in our immediate context are we able to get the real picture for a brief moment … but then it is usually too late … we are banished

we find ourselves lost

but we are intelligent and more informed than ever before

yet it seems we cannot handle decisions anymore (not that we ever could mind you, it’s just that we’ve got better at it lately).. and because of this it has become a major tool of industry and institutionalised governance of all forms … man made structures … straight lines that pierce through everything in its path

whatever seed that breaks the surface is plucked out and snatched away by the birds

… however, this is all academic because we continue to vote for them …. voting them in to continue … we mandate them to continue and we will continue to mandate them…

and God said to man, “be fruitless but increase in number nevertheless; fill the earth and be subdued by it … vote for leaders amongst yourselves that they may rule over you. … that it may go well with you in order that you will have all your pleasures fulfilled …  this is your God-given mandate, to be ruled by another and that your desire will be for them to rule over you.”

outside today there are posters defacing our street light poles with colourful faces and slogans screaming silently at the numbed pedestrians and motorists trying to avoid the political oil-slick as it oozes onto the streets.  we live in a delightful, beautiful country that is sadly and traumatically racked with corruption and prejudice.  we have a history of violence and ethnic disrespect and just as one victim matures, as quickly a perpetrator is born.  government spending is spiraling out of control and the fat-cats get fatter while the impoverished simply expire.  and it seems we’ve only just begun.

“look at me!!”… “look at me!!” they seem to say – “vote for me!!” … “vote for me!!”  …. a new wave of salivating gravytrain ticket holders press in to frantically try to get on board before each other. …

… and speak to any aspirant political candidate and chances are you’ll find someone who really seems to want to help and make a change.

it’s always harder when the mess is right at home but in fact, democracy is the same everywhere – to my mind, a totally diabolical deception of global proportions.  … and in South Africa it often feels as if we take the cake but I think the fact is that we have just not yet learned the devious skill of how to be incisively ‘PC’ in the way the people are politically, economically, culturally, and spiritually sodomized (mind you, only because we have still yet to learn the delicate intricacies of this devious ‘art’, … not because we don’t do it yet).  the “Malema’s” out there – and yes, there are many, … well, they just make us more aware of the mindless, insensitive, pathological brutality of it all.

…. and before you go off all half-cocked, this is not a racist perspective, … the previous government in SA (The Nationalist Party) were arguably the most effective perpetrators of this…  their only blatant folly was that they legislated inequity, hatred, greed and self-preservation and published it.

politics is the art or science of government or governing and ‘official’ politicians don’t do themselves any favours as they blunder on like intoxicated pub-crawlers into the dark night.  … and we don’t do ourselves any favours either because we dutifully vote new ones in all the time.  most of us even sincerely believe we need them and that this is not only the best way but the only way there is.  so we once again put our faith in a fresh ‘face’ out there, some talking head who tells us what we think we need to hear.  and now perhaps you may be asking, “who’s the more intoxicated?” …. good question!!

… you see,  ‘official’ politicians aren’t the only ‘politicians’ out there.  for me it’s difficult to decide who learned what from whom?  was it the politicians who gave the idea to the religious institutions or was it the other way around?

A poem I once recited at school when I was barely 10 years old was called, “ ’n Padda op ‘n Buite Plaas”   – by W.H. Boshoff (M.Rieck) and I recall resisting the whole process with fearful indignation when thrust upon to perform it publicly.  Stubbornly I performed the recitation only once and that before what I recall as an extremely large crowd of students and parents in the huge school assembly hall.  Now clearly this might be the exaggerated memories of a traumatised youth but nevertheless I remember it being a most frightening event in my young life and strangely over 40 years later I still haven’t forgotten it.

Why it remains with me to this day, I can only speculate.  It could possibly be because of the fear and pain of the moment having burned it indelibly into my consciousness or maybe because of the powerfully profound truths it conveys to us generations later?  Or maybe perhaps even at that very tender age I may have subconsciously recognised a bleeding, prophetic heart behind the playful humour?

Today we live in a world of extreme marketing and rampant self promotion.  A superficial world that takes no prisoners and leaves the dead to bury themselves as it marches on relentlessly on a seemingly hell-bent course – the ravenous devouring of its next disposable conquest.

A once proud and determined yet now bruised and scattered nation bobs dangerously in this shifting sea of rampant materialism and superficial values.

I have just returned from an almost 2 week long South African Afrikaans language, National Cultural Festival (KKNK).  It was the first one I have attended of the 17 Festivals so far and what I saw troubled me.  It seemed to me that all around me all I could see was so many people and artists trying so desperately hard to be what they think they should or would like to be.  Amidst the trendy, hip clothing and contemporary social presentations they looked lost and disheveled.  As a result I sadly feel moved to share the thoughts of this once traumatic little poem I have had so indelibly etched on my heart.

’n padda op ’n buite plaas

’n padda op ’n buite plaas
het hom mooi eenmaal opgeblaas
hy sê, hy wil, wat dit ook kos
so groot wees soos die grootste os

hy blaas hom op net soos ’n bol
sy rug word krom, sy maagie hol
maar ag, jy hoor net tande knars
want ons ou vriend het op geblaas

daar lê hy nes ’n droë beskuit
met al sy ingevande uit
dit is verdien – ons weet dit mos
’n padda word mos nooit ’n os
Uit: Gediggies vir ons kleintjies – W.H. Boshoff (M.Rieck)