Saturday, April 11, 2009

I am angry

Poetry needs help. Poets are out there, in their thousands, but we are not proactive enough. Politicians prance, pose and trillions(!) of dollars worth of resources are drained into a banking and credit system that sucks it all up.

This is a new phenomenon. We have never seen its like before - the wages, sweat, efforts and savings that we thought would be ours are being squandered. Not even that, but pulped, yes, before our blinded eyes. Pulped, mashed, swished away in a gigantic drain. Disappearing, never to be seen again (except by the same bankers who opened the sluices in the first place.)

Who is to blame? Mainly, the self-centred governments who allowed/encouraged fractional reserve banking in the first place (look it up, Google it, see how we got into this mess). Then, the consumer. Yep, you and me, our children, wives, husbands anyone who ever bought anything on credit, going back down the centuries, taking money off the lenders and paying it back, with interest, because we thought it would make our lives better.

That's a lot of us, I would hazard almost everyone. Those who, to take one example, rubbed their hands while the price of property soared and their little domain swelled in value while they anticipated the death of elderly relatives to add to the pot of gold that they would use to buy the holidays and trinkets and luxuries that we deserve...

...and so on. We need to come back to poetry. For the soul. Eye of a needle and all that stuff - poetry means something in this life, Here, now, if you read it, if you understand it, tune in and see how relevant it can become. Poetry needs help, but not a lot of it. It is always there, always written, always read. We need to make it real, throw it in the mixer of solutions and drains and soggy banknotes and see what comes out of it, where it ends up, where it needs to be, along with all the best interpretations of our sorry state. On top.
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