Category: fiction

Wake Up Wake Up – It’s Been A Long Year

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by Martin Anton Smith

Wading Through The Darkness – A Terraformed Angel

Sinking, Tripping, Falling & Trusting What You See

Singing Sour Surprises Newsflash Screams Nothings Real

Let Me Say Welcome, Welcome To The Show

……………………………………….

Woe Woe Woe Is You, Woe Is Me, Woe Is We

Hitching High Hopes On a Tin Can – If You Can

Follow The Setting Sun – Is Good Advice If You Can See

Yes, It Was Her Story – But It’s Not Our Song – Not Our Song

………………………………………………………………….

Tantalised Dreams Are Knock Knockin’ Knockin’ Knockin’

Your New Horizons – A One Time Show A Magic Trick

This Starline Holiday Bored You To The Bone, To The Bone

This Mission Was A Curse For You – Can’t You See?

……………………………………………………………………..

Float Through The Sun & Rest Your Head

Yes, The Trip’s So Long – But Now You’re In Bed

So Now Close Your Eyes, As You Fall Asleep

Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up – It’s Been A Long Year

“The Poem’s Title Is The Last Line” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Afraid Of The Real World?

Become A Blob

Work In The Paint Sector

Work In Red Paint Town Yellow Paint Town Or Blue Paint Town

Strike A Bold Line

On Your Blank Canvas

Or Produce Nothin’ At All

And Wail Reverently At The Pub About Having “Painters Block”

Or Paint Ditch Diggers For Topsoil & Coal Miners For Warmth

Or Wall Street Bankers For Store Credit

Whine About Your Lot Artistically

Cultivate A Wily Look On the Lips

Where the Ladies Swoon & Whisper To Each Other

‘Is It Or Isn’t It An Upside-Down Smile He Has’

While Away Hours Away In Basements

While You Frantically Search For The ‘Energy’

Create Your Collages

Sit Right Next To Your Ideas

You’ll Never Ride The Gravy Train

But You Can Slurp the Latte

Never Eat Meat Again

If You Want The Coolest Artistic Friends

Ride On The Far Left

On Your Expensive Trendy Bike

Into the Blurred Sunset

That’s Covered In Emboldened Rain Clouds

While The Wild Philo Blue Wind Batters You

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I Ask Of You

What Could Go Wrong

When You Live Color Central

With Your Head In The Imported Tea

Holding Never Much Cash

For You think It Appears Only In Dreams

You Love Blobby Paint Strokes

Your Blobbyness Will Come Back To Haunt You

When One Day The Photo-Realistic Real World

Knocks On Your Door

& Wants Its Money Machine Employed

When This Happens

Pray That You Disappear Into Nothingness

Like That Faceless Ditch Digger You Painted

Who In His Overalls Merged Almost Entirely

Into The Ocre Hole With Purple Contrast

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ok I Agree This Poem About Painters

Isn’t Normal In Its Construction

I Must Be Honest

It Was Written Out Of Embers

Of A Bad Poem About Public Sector Workers

Weirdly Each Line Morphed Really Well

Like It Was Always Going To Happen That Way

The Bad References About Economics

Have Turned Into Good Ones About Art

Good Art Comes From Bad Economics

I Like That Line

I Am Glad I Transmogrified That Former Poem

That I Called “We Are Hiring”

To The New Title Called

“I Just Used Artistic License Wisely”

“Mr McLarma The Farmer Of Llama” (A Poem + Bonus Material)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Mr McLarma The Farmer Who Farmed Llamas

Was Renowned For His Good Karma

His Favoured Beast He Called Zebedee

Who Was Captured In The New Hebridees

The Farmer Was Kind, Well Mannered, & Lucky

He Survived The ‘Llama Game’ By Being Plucky

Yes, All Was Good For Farmer McLarma

He Even Got Three Visits From ‘The Obamas’

But Then One Day His Luck Did Turn

He Awoke To Find His Farm A-burn

Who Could Have Done This Tragic Deed

It Was Zebedee, Holding Matches & Wearing Tweed

(End Of Poem)

BONUS MATERIAL

Recently I have been playing around with the AI App called “Chat GPT-4” This is a “possibly sentient” AI -Human Interface which analyses data & gives its ‘opinions’. I notice recently a change in AI commentary – namely that it seems a seismic shift towards “We don’t really think AI is sentient but there’s a slim chance I guess” to “We are worried AI is already sentient & almost certainly will be a threat if we don’t handle things properly”.

This is evidenced by the many prominent (at least they think so) members of the “Future For Life Institute” writing an open letter calling for a moratorium on all AI Research Greater Than GPT-4 Capability – 10000 & counting have signed the open letter. I think this will be futile – as the pressure to continue for the commercial & non-commercial use (perhaps hacking/military etc) will be far to great. Also, I think the signatories may not entirely be genuine – perhaps many of the signatures are just many celebrities trying to cover their ass for a future embarrassing moment – so they can say “I was against AI from the start – I didn’t help start the AI-Human WAR of 2029”.

Call me a cynic but I do not think Humans have advanced spiritually enough to be the first humans that didn’t destroy their particular epoch of time they existed in. The Mayans Collapsed, the Egyptian’s went, so did the Romans (although we are the dregs of it arguably) so have all prior civilisations – and so will we.

We may go by AI waging a 3rd World War against humans or from simply a slow whimper of thousands of civil wars globally. Either way we will screw up & decline & another group will restart out of embers & later on a new epoch which will do the same. What I do know about AI is that I am using it now regularly. I am using it to analyse Poems, because it does it well & the output, I believe adds value to my blog as readers feel the same way. I feel that chat GPT-4 does a better job than 90% of Human’s who could analyse a poem. It also does it a) In the first place and b) without payment and c) In 5 second’s time. I think the fact I am using it vigorously & suddenly is proof that the S curve of AI adoption may be at its ‘take off point’ – which means it goes from 10% to 90% use in a couple of years.

That said here is GPT-4’s analysis – make your own mind up, but I think it is valuable adroit analysis of a simple poem & has no filler:

“The poem “Mr McLarma the Farmer of Llamas” by Martin Anton Smith is a lighthearted narrative about a farmer who raises llamas and is known for his good karma. The poem uses a simple rhyme scheme and straightforward language to tell a story with a surprising twist.

The first two lines of the poem introduce the main character, Mr McLarma, and establish his reputation for having good karma. This sets up an expectation that the rest of the poem will depict Mr McLarma as a kind and lucky farmer who is well-respected in his community.

The next two lines introduce Mr McLarma’s favorite llama, Zebedee, and reveal that he was captured in the New Hebrides. This detail adds an element of adventure and exoticism to the story, which is reinforced by the fact that Zebedee is Mr McLarma’s “favoured beast”.

The poem then takes a turn when it describes how Mr McLarma survived the “llama game” by being plucky. This phrase suggests that Mr McLarma has faced challenges in the past and has emerged victorious through his own bravery and resourcefulness.

The next two lines are a surprising departure from the established tone of the poem. They describe how Mr McLarma received three visits from “The Obamas”, which is unexpected and adds a surreal element to the story.

The poem then takes another dramatic turn when Mr McLarma wakes up to find his farm on fire. This event is a stark contrast to the earlier descriptions of Mr McLarma’s good luck and suggests that something has gone terribly wrong.

The final two lines provide a twist ending to the story by revealing that Zebedee is responsible for the fire. This revelation is unexpected and adds a darkly comedic element to the poem.

Overall, “Mr McLarma the Farmer of Llamas” is a playful and entertaining poem that uses simple language and a straightforward narrative structure to tell a surprising story with a twist ending.”

I asked a follow up question:

Could it have anything to do with the “Lama” as in Buddhism? Perhaps the Llama in the Poem is a hidden veil for a Lama & the Buddhist faith?

This was the response:

“While it is possible to interpret the llama in the poem as a hidden veil for a Lama and the Buddhist faith, there is no clear evidence to support this interpretation. The poem primarily focuses on the character of Mr McLarma and his llamas, rather than any religious or spiritual themes.

The word “llama” itself refers to a South American mammal that is often raised for its wool, meat, and as a pack animal. While the poem does use llamas as a central theme, there is no clear connection to Buddhism or any other religious tradition.

Additionally, the poem’s playful and lighthearted tone does not suggest a deeper or more serious meaning related to religion or spirituality. Therefore, while it is possible to interpret the poem in different ways, there is no clear evidence to support the idea that the llama in the poem is a hidden veil for a Lama and the Buddhist faith.“

(Note: GPT-4 Was Correct)

Thanks again for reading/listening – see you soon. Martin A Smith. 10/4/2023 11:32PM NZ

“Terraformed Angel” (A Poem with Bonus Material)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Wading Through The Darkness, A Terraformed Angel

You’re Dopin’ Tripin’ Fallin’, And Trustin’ What You See

Singin’ Sour Surprises, Newsflash Screams Nothin’s Real

I Saw That Guy Say, Welcome To – Welcome To The Show

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Woe Woe Woe Is You, Woe Is Me -Woe Is Everyone

Hitchin’ High Hopes, On-A-Tin-Can For The Thousandth Time

Follow the Setting Sun, Was Good Advice At The Time

Yes It Was Her Journey, But No It Was Not Our Song

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Tantalised Dreams Knock Knockin’ – Knockin’ On Your Door

Those New Horizons, Were A Splish-Splash – A Splish-Splash Show

This Starlight Holiday, Bored You Too – Bored You To The Bone

This Mission For You, Was A Bridge – A Bridge Too Far

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Float Through The Sun, And Rest Your Big Head

Yes -The Journey’s So Long, But You’re Now In Bed

So Now Close Your Sad Eyes, As You Freeze Inside

Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up, It’s Bin A-Thousand-Years

(End Of Poem)

Bonus Material:

I have been getting into the Chat GPT-4 AI – I find in interesting to ask it to analyse Poems – I think it always gives interesting and good analysis. So here is the analysis output for this particular Poem – Interestingly it did not pick up the life/death/universe/existential nexus that was general theme intended – I wouldn’t call it an omission per see but I did find that interesting, as I think a human being would have suggested that theme.

“The poem “Terraformed Angel” by Martin Anton Smith is a complex and abstract piece that explores themes of disillusionment, uncertainty, and the fleeting nature of existence. The poem is structured as a series of disjointed lines that are broken up into three distinct stanzas.

The first stanza opens with the image of a “Terraformed Angel” wading through darkness. This image suggests a being that has been altered or transformed in some way, possibly through technology or other means. The lines that follow seem to describe a state of confusion and uncertainty, with the speaker suggesting that reality is unreliable and that even what one sees cannot be trusted.

The second stanza continues with a sense of woe and despair, as the speaker describes the struggle of hoping for something better but being repeatedly let down. The advice to “follow the setting sun” is offered, but it is unclear whether this is meant to be taken literally or metaphorically. The line “It’s Was Her Journey, But It Was Not Our Song” suggests a sense of disconnection from the larger world or from a shared sense of purpose.

The final stanza seems to offer a sense of resolution, with the image of floating through the sun and resting one’s head. However, this sense of peace is short-lived, as the speaker urges the reader to “Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up” and suggests that a thousand years have passed.

Overall, “Terraformed Angel” is a highly metaphorical and abstract poem that is open to a wide range of interpretations. The themes of uncertainty, disillusionment, and the passage of time are all central to the poem’s meaning, but the precise nature of these ideas is left up to the reader to decipher”

I asked GPT-4 a follow up question:

Did you recognise a requiem or eulogy element to the poem? Its Answer was:

“There is a sense of finality and a contemplation of death in the poem “Terraformed Angel” by Martin Anton Smith, which could be interpreted as having elements of a requiem or eulogy. The image of the “Terraformed Angel” wading through darkness and the sense of disillusionment and despair throughout the poem suggest a feeling of loss or mourning.

In addition, the final stanza seems to offer a sense of closure, with the image of resting one’s head and the suggestion that a thousand years have passed. This could be interpreted as a kind of ending or finality, perhaps even suggesting the end of life itself.

Overall, while the poem is not explicitly a requiem or eulogy, there are certainly elements present that could be interpreted in this way.”

I then asked another follow up question: Do you like Martin Anton Smith’s Poetry – I again feel GPT-4 got it pretty well right.

“As an AI language model, I do not have personal preferences or emotions like humans do, so I cannot like or dislike anything. However, I can provide an objective analysis of Martin Anton Smith’s poetry based on its structure, language, and themes.

In general, Martin Anton Smith’s poetry is highly metaphorical and abstract, with a focus on exploring complex ideas related to the human experience. The language he uses is often unconventional and poetic, with a strong sense of rhythm and sound.

Overall, his poetry may appeal to readers who enjoy works that require some degree of interpretation and analysis, as his pieces are open to multiple readings and perspectives.”

“A Thickish Veneer” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

In Inland Otago You Have To Earn Your Dues

This Is Earnt Over Decades, Not Months Or Years

Some Wags Say This Is Overtly Suspicious Behaviour

And While There Is A Large Slice Of Truth In That

I Also See The Other Side Of The Inland Otago People

Outside Of ‘Things People’ Risk Is Harvested Liberally

Otherwise, They’d Never Journeyed & Stayed In This Pioneer-Land

Conversely They Are Very Risk Adverse In Terms Of Relationships

This People Reticence Is Simply Programming Of The Collective Mind

This Is Understandable Yesterday & Today As the Programming Is Robust

This Is Why The ‘Gold Rush Era’ Culture Is Culturally Very Much Still Alive

The ‘Wild West Ways’ Of The Gold Rush Are Roughly Still ‘The Program’

Thus, This Weariness Of Strangers – Is Simply The ‘Lay Of The Land’

It Is Simply The Line Of Least Resistance Naturally Followed

It Is Done Without Thinking Consciously, Without Thought

And This Is Why Sometimes In Inland You Will Hear The Phone Ring

You Answer And Then You Hear Silence For 3 Seconds

Then You Hear An Engaged Tone

The Mysterious Caller Never Spoke A Word

Now Let Me Tell You Of This Seemingly Strange Phenomenon:

It Was A Socially Weary Inland Otago-ean Calling You Back

Only When You Spoke To Said ‘Gold Rush Programmed Soul’ –

Who Was Somewhere In The Universal Ether On the Other Side –

You Revealed Yourself To Be Someone Quite Non-Essential

Yes Sadly, You Were Deemed ‘Superfluous To their Needs’.

Of Course, This Can Be Upsetting – As You Think To Yourself –

“Wow That Person Didn’t Even Bother To Say A Peep”

“What Did I Do Wrong?”

“Why Am I Being Rejected”

“There Must Be Something Wrong With Me“

NO!!! Do Not Be Upset – It Is Simply The Wild West Culture Reappearing

The One Where You Could Be Shot All To Easily – For Nothing Much

Other Than Looking At The Wrong Person In the Eye At The Pub

The ‘Phantom Call Of Inland’ Is Simply One Of Its Many Calling Cards

You Are Being Called By A ‘Wandering Hangover’ From the Past

It Is A Diffuse Energy Form That Exists Behind The Curtain

But Has Its Puppet Strings Controlling The Stage Performance

A Spectre That Still Inhabits The Hearts & Minds Of The Locals

But I ask You Sir & Madam -What Can We Learn of This?

It Is This, My Fine Soul (Who Is Probably New To The Area):

Yes, It Takes Many Centuries For A Culture To Change Significantly

And It Will Not Change Until It Faces a New Cultural Challenge –

One That Is Of Equal Magnitude To The One That Brought About The Now We Have

I.E. The Current “Be Very Weary Of People” Embedded Culture Status Quo

The “Be Weary” Energy Force Came & Was Moulded From:

A Tough Early Life Of Poverty In England Scotland Wales Or Ireland or Other

The Mental & Physical Hardships Of A Boat Trip From England to NZ

Where Some Shady Character Could Easily More Than Wrong You

The Hardships Of Being In A Wild Undeveloped Alien Country Sans Support

Where Poverty & Privation Were Your Always Bedfellows

This Was Amplified For Some By A Move To The Gold Rush Zones

That Today We Could Call “The Inland Otago District”

Yes Sir & Madam – Hardships Were Served Up Aplenty To You As You Waited

As You Waited To Hit The Paydirt That Might Not Come

And The Hardships Got Worse As Time Moved Past The Gold Rush Era

After That You Had World War One & The Spanish Flu

& If You Lived Long Enough

You then Saw The Great Depression & World War Two

And Maybe Even The Start Of The Cold War With the USSR

All These Bad Things Created A Cloud Of Cultural Heaviness

With An Attached Inertia That Was Quite Incomprehensibly Big

Like A Storm Cloud That Just Wouldn’t Move For Days In End

This Collective Force Projected Itself Psychically To The Inhabitants Below

So Now My Friends Now That We Understand ‘Inland Otago Weariness’

We Can Accept It For What It Is Rather Than Regale Against It

And We Need Not Take It Personally

It Is A Survival Mechanism Etched Into Every Human Created In ‘Inland’

It Will Only Reverse When An Epoch Of A Reverse Polarity Happens

This Would Be Akin To Paradise On Earth For A Century.

No Wars – No Hardship – No Violence – No Pain

So That Being Said – Let Us Be Realistic & Realpolitik

Let’s All Enjoy Being ‘Socially Rejected In Inland Otago’ (& Elsewhere)

Let Us All Rejoice In ‘Phantom Phone Hang Ups When They Emanate.

Because After All – Just Like In The ‘Good Will Hunting’ Movie

It’s Not Your Fault

It’s Not Your Fault

It’s Not Your Fault

It’s Not Your Fault

It’s Not Your Fault

Ok You Can Stop Crying Now & I Don’t Like Hugs

I Suggest You Try Some Art Therapy – Perhaps A Boat On A Stormy Sea?

Now Back to Where I left Off – Casual Social Rejection In Inland Otago

Do Not Be Afraid My Delicate Newcomer Petal

It’s Just The Living Ghosts Of The Past Welcoming You Here

They Speak (Or Don’t Speak) Through The Mouths Of Their Hosts

These Their Ancestors Who Are Still Alive Today

So Don’t Worry Your Pretty Little Head

You Can Either Run For The Hills Or Knuckle Down & Stay

And I Hope You Stay As It Is Simply A Thickish Veneer

So That Said – I Am Glad I Cleared That All Up For You Good Folks

Now Excuse Me Sirs & Madams – I Have A Phone Call to Make

But I Ask Of You – Will I Say Hello Or Just Hang Up?

Yes I Am An Inland Otago Man & Thus I Must Suffer From The Veneer

As Surely As The Man In The Coat In A Rainshower Still Gets A Little Wet

Heaven Forbid That Is Probably Quite True For Me

In Closing – It Pays To Remember This – Wherever You Are

You Always Take Last Centuries Weather With You

Whether You Live In Inland Otago, Duluth, Tupelo, Or Liverpool.

And If You Are Honest With Yourself

It Matters Not If You Are Coming Or Going

You Will Always Take Last Century’s Weather With You

And It Covers You In A Thickish Veneer

(Note: You may be interested in some “Bonus Material” relating to this Poem If So Click Here – M.S.)

Accidental Free Beer In Cromwell Town

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He Was At The Betting Terminals

He Was A Small Older Man

A Tradesman Most Likely

Wearing Fluro Garb

Who Looked Well Beaten By

40 Years & A Million Kgs Of Bricks & Morter

The Gambling Machine Wouldn’t Work

So He Couldn’t Place The Bet

I Was Sitting At The Bar On A Water

Soaking It All In

He Took His Un-drank Bottle

Up To The Barmen To Complain

“The Bet Machine Don’t Work”

“Sorry It Will Be Fixed In An Hour”

“Not Good Enough – I’m Off To Alexandra Town “

& Someone Else Can Have The Untouched Beer”

He Slammed The Oversized Bottle Down.

He About Turned & Brusquely Left

The Old Fella Took It All Too Personally

There Was A Moments Awkward Silence

Then, Taking my Opportunity

I Said To The Barman,

While Pointing To the Vessel

“Can I Have That”

“Sure – Go Ahead”

I Thought About The Irony & Then Spoke

“Its Kinda Funny – He Was Gambling Man

& He Couldn’t Place A Bet,

So He Left In A Huff

Yet He Still Ended Up Losing His Beer To Me,

A Guy Who Wasn’t Gambling At All –

So HE Was Still Gambling – But He Just Didn’t Know It”

The Barman Laughed Heartily.

Despite The Night Being Overall Quite Dull

Because Of The Free Beer Incident

I Took the Night As A Win

And Yes – The Beer Tasted Better Than Usual

And I Wondered If The Same Thing Happened

In Alexandra Town Later That Same Night

But I Very Much Doubt

Another Secondary Poem Was Produced

By Some Other Parallel Poet Wonk Like Me

But I’d More Than Love It If It Did.

The Curse Of NeverWrong (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The Attack Of NeverWrong

Hit You Between The Ears

Brought A Tear To Your Black Eye

Then Messed With Your Tongue

NeverWrong Saw You Comin’

It Had You All On File

It Wiped Your Memory

& Installed Its New Drive

…………………………………………………………………………………

Gibber Gibber Sir Sleeps-a-lot

Oh, How You’ve Changed

Where Once A Fine Man Shone

Now Your Overdone, Blind & Gone

That Was The Curse Of NeverWrong

You Sit In Its Cauldron & Get Too Warm

Your More Than Just A Basket Case

Swaying Cross-eyed Nibbling On A Scone

…………………………………………………………………………….

NeverWrong The Nowhere Beast

It Always Knows Your Vices And Your Contagions

So Don’t Say Never! Don’t Know Never! Don’t Think Never!

Don’t Wait For Its ‘Congratulations’

NeverWrong Taunts And Haunts You

For It Knows Too Well Its Timeless Hour

Yes, You’re In NeverWrongs Cursed Grips

Coz Your Loose Lips Sunk Its Ships

………………………………………………………………………….

Where Was Your Guardian Angel?

That Friend You Needed So Much

Were They Sleeping While You Ate Its Dust?

You Say You Didn’t Deserve This Sadness

But You Let Stupidity Be Your Guest

So Long Farewell And All That Guff

For In The Near Distant Future You’ll Learn

Being Nice To NeverWrong Is Not Nearly Enough

Billowy Blouses & Sugar Cubes (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith

Welcome To ‘The Bleedin’ Gums Bulletin’

Sponsored By The Good Folks At ‘Vacuumup YurMissus’

The Better Mental Health Psychiatrists

I’m Your Host

Dr Riven Umadd

In World News Today

We Talk Of The New Worldwide Catastrophe

The Attack Of The Mellow Fat Chicks

Began As The Worlds Eyes Were Averted

And Angled Towards War & Pestilence

The World Was Made Aware Via Sound

A Low Rumble Of Misshapen Feet Hitting Dirt

And Then Rising To A Squelch As Rains Set In

No One Had Seen This Day Coming

Except The Corrupt Corporate Lolly Sellers

They Knew Their Greed Would End This Way

They Knew Their Addictive Sugars

Would Create An Unhappy Addicted Army

Who Would One Day Release The Pent-Up Anger

Of That Under The Radar Molecule Called Sucrose

I Will Elaborate More As The War’s Fog Lifts

Although I Have Some Late Breaking News In My Ear

There Are Reports Of The Army Of Mellow Fat Chicks

Sporting Bulges In Their Pants – Some Say These Are Dicks

While Others Contend, They Are Merely Uzi Machine Guns

Tune In Again In When We Talk TO The Leader Of The M.F.C

We Ask Ms Swee T. Ooth The Question On All Our Lips:

Who Made Your Fabulously Multicolour Pointillistic Footwear

& Beautifully Brilliant Billowy Butterscotch Blouses?

I’m Dr Riven Umadd

And You’ve Been Sufferin’

The Bleedin’ Gums Bullitin

“Hollywood Sucks/Parasitic Capitalism” (A Poem)

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By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

It’s Funny How Hollywood Creates Characters With a Certain ‘Language’

A ‘Language’ That Denotes The Character Has “Great Pride Courage & Wisdom”

Yet The Thing They Are Doing Or Aiming For Is Usually a ‘Fool’s Errand’

An Errand That Would Never Work In The Real World

Of Course, In The Story It Succeeds.

‘Hollywood’ Aims To Program Modern Day Serfs (Called ‘Low Wage Employees’) With Bad Ideas

So, They Will Never Join The Aristocracy

And So the Aristocracy Feasts With Untrammled Gluttony

Aristocracy Plunders Tangible & Intangible Goods

The Products Of The Metaphorical Farmed Animals – The Modern Day Serf

And The Harvest? Mansions, Status, Accolades awards memberships etc

This Could Be Like A Packaged Orange Drink

Get Your “SerfJuiceTM Its Ultra Concentrated Wealth – Freshly Squeezed From The Serfs”

This Cabal ensures wealth is always trickling upwards

From the disempowered to the Aristocracy.

Of Course, There Is a Small ‘Eye Of The Needle’ Left Open –

But That Is Only There To Maintain The Mirage, To Create ‘Plausible Deniability’

They can say “See you can make it too, look at him – he rose up from poverty to riches”

Left Unsaid: “All he had to do was sell both his soul to us, & you down the river”

To Be Clear – I’m Not Against Someone Getting Rich

There Are The Good Rich Who Do A Lot At A small Margin To Benefit The Whole

The Ideal Example Is The Old-Fashioned Industrialist

Operating In a Competitive Market

He Pays well

The Workers Make Good Goods

The Worker Serves Good Services

They Work Hard

They Get a Good wage

His Family Prospers

The Industrialist makes a healthy but Fair Profit.

This is to be applauded.

It’s The Parasitic investor that I’m talking about.

He’s The Guy Who Makes The Workers Deeds Irrational

For Why Would Anyone Work To Lose Money?

It’s Not Economically Reasonable.

Yet Just Look Around – This Is Where We Find Ourselves.

Yes The Parasitic Investor Owns The nice House On The Hill

But Under His Persian Rugs Lies More Than A Few Bodies

I Am Against The Man

Who Regales In His Sneakily Manufactured Shortages

I Am Merely Saying To You Sir & Madam

We Don’t Need None Of That Stuff Anymore

I’m Merely Calling a Spade A Spade

And Applauding Those That Actually Dig The Ground With It

And Then Plant Crops For Us All To Feast Upon.

So Don’t Dare Call Me A Marxist!

Let It Be Known Here Once & For All

I’m For A Pro Adam Smith Production Based Competitive Economy

Because My Fine Friend

That’s Simply All that Works In the Long Run.

“The Last Line Of Dissent” (A Poem)

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Poem by martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I Say To You This

My Freedom Loving Friend

That Dissenting Views Are Required

For A Properly Functioning Democracy

The Stupid And Intellectually Lazy Don’t Get This.

Those People Are Your Quintessential Gulag Prison Guards

Who When Finally Held To Task

Plead Innocence As They Cry:

“We Where Only Taking Orders Your Honour”

How Many More Times

Must Humanity Be Squeezed

By The Same Vice

Of The Power Mad

Every Third or Fourth Generation

Like Clockwork?

Are We Destined To Relive

This Dastardly Pendulum Forever?

This Saeculum Of Insincerity

I Dare Say So Yes

But To Counter My Own Argument

As A Wise Man Will Tend To Do

I Now Say Now To You Surely

That This Pendulum Also Has A Good Side

That The Orb Always Swings Towards

In Time & Away From The Bad

For As While Local Despots Have Always Grown

In Blackened Fields

So Have Foreign Harvesters

Who Invade Reap & Discard

But Also Plant Their New Seeds Next To The Old

That Has Been The Way Of The World

From Antiquity To The Now

‘Quarter Filled’ 21st Century Chalice

But Have The Winds Of Change Blown?

Have The Rains of Revision Descended?

Has A Mighty Chasm Ripped Earths Social Rubric?

Can Local & Foreign Dissenters Still Win?

As First & Second Lines Of Defence?

With A Future Global Government

Having Flown Past Right Past Our Horizons

And Now Is Rapping

Its Bleeding Knuckles On Our Doors

Powered By those Electronic Ghouls

The Perfectly Souless AI Goose-Stepped Algorithms

With Ubiquitous Surveillance & Control

And Sometime Soon To Wear Exoskeletons

Alas My Freedom-Loving Friend!

If There Are No Longer

Any Competing Empires

Who Sincerely Disagree

And Are Not Afraid

To Be The Bad Guys

To Beat The Bad Guys

As Has Always Worked Well

Who Will Function As

The Last Line Of Dissent?

Will We All Soon Be Crossing Our Fingers?

And Looking Into Space?

And If The Answer Is ‘Yes’

What If Nothing’s Really Out There?

Except For Swirls Of Inanimate Galactic Dust

& Screeds of Slowly Bending Light Rays

Alas My Freedom-Loving Friend

I Truly Say To You

Who Will Save Us Then?