Scrapbook of throwaway thoughts

1

Functionary luminary backwatching

Background radiation of revolution

Poised on the knife-edge of status

Survivors of cerebral flatus

No wonder the neo-cons hate us

2

There’s nothing linear here

Life goes where the wind blows

3

Well, Kevin.  
How does being drunk in Madrid compare with being drunk in London?

Well, Kevin.  
The infrastructure is newer and in better condition; 
though there are large gaps in service at this time of night.

The women, on the whole, are more beautiful 
– though they know it,
watching themselves pass shop windows;
people openly pick their noses, including the women.  
In London, it only happens in traffic jams.

It’s kind of nicer somehow, being a part of something 
– though that might be seen rather than felt;
extranjeros are never really one of the gang, 
unless you marry a Spaniard, I’m told.  
London is more inclusive, if somewhat dangerous.

I remember there being more toilets in London, too; 
though that might be a little rosé-tinted.

4

Politics has gone to pot, but not to Hell.

Not yet.

That’s just around the corner.

A few more mistakes and we’ll soon be there.

5

We’ve cut out the good meat and we’re left with the bad;

with tripe, chitlins and trotters – indigestible scrag-ends.

We opened the tin that said

“Danger: keep closed!”

Because we thought we were wiser than those who sealed it.

6

Because he who pays the piper, finally calls the tune

We've constructed a knotty problem that no one understands

It's an occupational hazard of striving without plans

Protagonists move their arguments under cover of the night

Bellowing from the stump that all is well and black is white

Nobody wants to be the one who raises the alarm

While high-born opportunists queue to advocate self-harm

7

Looking out of my window, I’m reminded of that old anti-labour joke:

“How many men does it take to dig a hole?”

The answer, vaguely:

“Four.  Two to dig and two to stand and watch.”

In this case: 

“Two down the hole and two peering in.”

But their barriered compound contains:
one small crane with chains hanging from its jib;
one cement-mixer, chugging and grinding with the stony mix.

So the four were a team: 
two down the hole, laying bricks,
two on the surface, supplying, and hopefully 
all paid a fair rate for the job in hand.

“How many Civil Servants does it take…?”

“How many managers…?”

“… directors…?”

Someone, somewhere is watching from their window,
remembering the joke.
After all, we can always manage with one less.

“How many billionaires does it take...?”

Run, run, run, little hamster.

8

There’s panic on the radio:

“Imigrantes.”

Africans in boats.

The President allowed the Aquarius to land in Valencia.

630 souls passed around the Mediterranean are finally ashore.

Through the radio-alarm’s two inch speaker,
the kitchen fills with angst.

The media have done it again.

The old question:

“What is Spain?”

“What is Malta?”

“What is Italy?”

“What is England (yes, you read that right)?”

“What is the United States of America?”

“What is Australia?”

“What is France?”

“What is Poland?”

“What is Hungary?”

“What is Austria?”

“What is The Netherlands?”

“What is Germany?”

“What is Humanity?”

Why do they come?  

Why risk their lives and the lives of their children?

War?

Some.

Hardship, poverty, disease?

Many.

A dream?  An image? 

Undoubtedly.  
The one we sell to the poor of the world 
then wonder why they come.

A world unequal, exploitative.

Our paradigm holds to be beneficial
that the winner-takes-all;
the fittest survive;
the spoils to the victor.

That rules are there for the obedience of fools
and the guidance of wise men.

Unless you’re poor and dark-skinned, that is.
It was always thus.

Inequality and exploitation increase with every year.
The rich have convinced us it’s in our interest.

The number of people trying to reach a better life
in Europe, The United States and Australia
increases with every year.  Strange, that.

The media are broadcasting panic
through this radio-alarm.

Fools build walls,
wise men, bridges.