Welcome to The Baby Wants Its Bottle Philosophy & Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. In this episodeI read a New Poemcalled “The War of “23-“39” and Short Story/Poem Hybrid called “How I Escaped my UNiT in the UnCity”. These are as most my stuff on this blog, quickly written pieces, rough and should really be work on a lot more. The themes are Sci Fi Dystopian.
Both these are of course influenced by the pandemic era we are still living in, as we have been for now to years. Both these works I guess point to a rebel type fightback vs dark forces and authoritarian characters that may have already popped up in the real world. We are as they say in the “fog of war” or at least in the “fog of immediate History” and as such what is right what is wrong and who are the good guys and who are the bad guys is not known yet.
Given the fog effect, It is doubtful whether it will know for at least for perhaps at least 10 years (History takes it’s time and is of course written by the ‘victors’). But who will be the Victors? And in 10 years will the analysis be of a “shortish pandemic” where we essentially went back to normal, or will the pandemic simply be an entree for different and equally troublesome matters? We could ask ourselves the following questions: Will Russia Invade Ukraine, Will China Invade Taiwan, Will the USA have a Civil War 2.0? Will The 2024 Election be a debacle for of beliefs that it cannot be legitimate? Will there be a Big Economic Crash or more positively – will there be peace and a post pandemic 1920’s like Boom and Party phase? I guess all we need to do is survive and we’ll be right in the thick of whatever happens. We will either be given a rock to hide under, some sand to put our heads into or tap on the shoulder to rebel/enlist/defend. Or perhaps nothing will happen at all.
Let me start the first Poem followed by the Short Story.
“The War of “23-“39″ (Poem by Martin Anton Smith)
Welcome to Techno City Gulags Where We Welcome the “Un-Complient” Let’s Raise Our Glasses To the Army of Empty Amphora
I’m Private Smith of Operation Barbarian Just An Un-Complient Automaton Soldier I Simply Couldn’t Comprehend When Relayed Of The War’s End
It Was In Twenty Thirty Nine We Defeated the Worlds Enemy His Name Was UNiT the Un-Known The Un-God Implanted In Our Dreams
We Are The Army of Empty Amphora
And They Stole Blood From Our Veins
They Took Our Voices And Then Our Thoughts
But Come For Our Souls? – ‘Think Again’.
“How I Escaped my UNiT in the UnCity“
Short story by Martin Anton Smith
Welcome to Techno City Gulags.
Leave your real -world cares behind.
Our false God will be your saviour.
His name is UNiT the Un-Barbarian.
He is the Un-God of your dreams.
UNiT The Un-Barbarian Created a New World,
Out of the ashes of the old.
UNiT the Un-God spoke to all via thought messages.
UNiT’s first words created this new Unreality, he said:
“Let there be Un-Jobs”,
and there were.
“Let there be an Un-economy”,
and there it mathematically was.
“Let there be Un-Cities”,
and there invisibly so, they dwelt.
“Let there be Un-Unhappiness”,
and no one felt anything inside anymore.
“Let the People be un-unfree”,
And no one wanted to be either here nor there, as they were always in the same place.
And having spoken these words UNiT had now created his New Un-Reality.
————
Welcome to ‘Techno City Gulags’
Where we welcome the “Un-Complient”.
In TCG there is no need for physical freedom,
For we create a virtual paradise for but a small fee.
A simple monthly pledge of allegiance, is all we ask!
Now Repeat the ‘Three Un-Mantra’s’ After Me:
“I Agree that ‘UNiT the Un-Barbarian’ is your Un-God.”
“I Agree that the Real World is a Danger to Everyone. “
“I Agree That Paradise lies in The Un-City called Techno City Gulags. “
So now do you see how simple the new paradise will be?
Soon you will be transported away from the drudgerous & tiresome so called ‘real world’!
All you need to go there is to repeat the daily ‘Un-Mantra’, the 3 lines of Un-life.
And you will be un-unhappy and un-unfree,
Living safely in the Un-City,
as an Un-Complient Automaton.
Blissfully Un-Unhappy, for you have no human emotions.
You will become the ‘treasured property’ Of Our Un-God,
UNiT The UN-Barbarian!
—————
I became so brainwashed by these silky-smooth words,
I had agreed to enter the Un-Gates.
I was half way through the ‘Third Mantra’:
“I agree that Paradise lies in Tech…”
And I was suddenly interrupted & enlightened,
by something everlasting yet also ephemeral,
That words cannot clearly describe.
This unknown force had pulled the plug on all the silliness.
There and then,
I left the almost-created ‘UnCity’, and my ‘Un-Job’ behind.
As I left, I saw over my shoulder the Un-God “UNiT the Un-Barbarian”,
He fuming and cussing at me with super-human ferocity.
While metamorphizing from solidity to opaqueness to invisibility, he said:
“You may be wise & free but billions of you over there are but an army of empty amphora,
And I will fill you all with deception & you will soon again drink of my wine”.
“Don’t be so sure Unit” I said robustly, for your corruption is a mere shadow,
You are but a fearful parasitic tick on the back of a mightier and soulful beast,
Simply one tail flick or shrug from falling back into your deep abyss.
I was happy to be on my way,
Un-brainwashed, Uncompliant and free,
Gathering steam, and bringing many almost-taken ‘others’ back with me.
The End
Thank you for listening to the Baby wants Its Bottle Philosophy & Poetry Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.
Welcome to The Baby Wants Its Bottle Philosophy & Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. In this episodeI read a New Poemwhich emanated from the desire to watch Peter Jackson’s new Beatles Documentary where he released an elongated film on the making of the Beatles “Let It Be” album – called “Get Back”. It is a great doco, and I highly recommend it, especially if you create music as I am also trying to do.
In the documentary footage it often shows big Mal Evans who was a helper and friend of the Beatles. Mal was the one who belted the hammer on the anvil on “Maxwells Silver Hammer” a song they practice on the “Let It Be” sessions but was released on the Abbey Road Lp. The footage of Mal on The Anvil is there on Get Back.
He seemed interesting so I looked up his story and I transcribed the highlights and added some artistic flair and asked a few open questions. I find it interesting to look into the making of albums, as there is usually a rich tapestry of stories and occurrences to interest the mind. Mal’s story was sad and I thought that he got a rough deal on the face of it.
I think Mal Evans was simply “too nice” for such a tough environment and it in that high pressure insane world that surrounded the Beatles, I wonder if niceness helped him much. As the old Christian adage goes, being kind without also being wise is folly – but then who is wise AND young? Is it possible to be wise without life experience? . Is this simply not why the young need great leaders?
I being only 43 of course only stated listening to the Beatles around 1995 when they released the anthology album and documentaries; but I got into the Beatles mostly in my Uni years and shortly after. My interest had waned since being over 30 but the Peter Jackson documentary has piqued my interest again and thus helped create this poem. I thought it would be more interesting to write about Mal, and his Beatles time and then his tragic early death vs say John’s – which of course we already all know.
The question of what would Mal’s life have been like if he’d never met the Beatles is an interesting one – would he still be here and would he be happy? Also, how many of us are in Mal’s situation – i.e. seemingly in paradise or in the Lap of luxury and success but hurtling towards disaster? These are interesting questions that are hard if not impossible to answer and I think this is because in life we are usually wading blindfolded through in the fog of some undeclared war. Only when the war is over, the blindfold lifts and we can look back on the battle scene and our accompanying battle scars. Perhaps we are like Mal in many ways, and not less so with this bizarre socio cultural – pandemic flux we have been injected into.
But why is it we never learn from history? Is it because the ones that do know History’s pitfalls and cavernous abysses are to cowardly of ineffectual to stop it? Is it also because the intellectually blind populace simply swallow the hogwash offered up by the latest shady populist politician or technocrat? To me the answer is a resounding YES!
And so, I will now read the Poem.
“Big Mal Evans – The Beatles Runaround “
Poem by Martin . A . Smith
Big Mal Was Big 6 ft 6 And Wide As A House.
He Met The Beatles in ’62 & Bounced At the Cavern.
He Became A Roadie – Settin’ Up the Amps and Mics.
But His Real Job Was A Fab Four’s Personal Runaround.
Lennon Said: “Mal Socks”, And It Was Done.
Ringo Said: “Mal Undies”, And They Appeared.
George Said “Earl Grey Tea Mal”, And So Be It.
Paul Said: “Beetroot Sandwich Mal”, And That It Be.
The Big Lad Had a Big Smile And Thick Glasses,
Only Triumphed By His Big Heart and Rounded Edges.
A Wife And Kid At Home And Only Paid 38 Pounds A Week!
While The Beatles Had Mansions, Steak Dinners And Soiree’s to Greece
“I’m Just Too Nice To Ask for A Raise, An Extra Nickle”, He Wrote.
His Dairy Scrawling’s, Would One Day Make Someone Rich.
He Even Helped Paul Write A Line Or Two – So They Say At Least.
And Paul Promised Mal A Royalty? Or Did He? Or Did He Not?
Was Big Mal Too Nice Or Were The Fab 4 to Mean?
A Bit Of Column A, A Bit Of Column B?
In ’70, When Beatles Broke, Mal Became Broke In Another Way
Come ’75 He Was Financially and Emotionally Spent.
The Post-Beatle Industry, Was Far Too Tough For Big Kind Mal.
And While He Slumbered Around Trying To Forget,
His Sufferin’ Wife Lil Finally Left Through the Kitchen Window.
Down And Out, And Clutching The Last Straw,
He Scuppered to California And Rented A Dingey Room.
But It Was All Too Much For Big Friendly Mal,
And He Did What He Knew & He Hit The Bottle To Cope.
The Apple Corp Boss Called And Sensed He Needed Help.
But Alas No! Mal Said He ‘Wouldn’t Come Out Tonight’.
But Tomorrow 1PM For Lunch?, ” Yes I’ll Be There!” Said Mal.
And He Kept Drinkin’ & Drinkin’ & Taking What God Only Knows.
Drunk, Down And Doped He Played Inside With His BB Gun.
Cops Were Called And Thence They Did Come.
But the Airgun And Bourbon He didn’t Put Down.
“Just Let Me Be, It’s My…My…Mine!” He Did Scream.
And Together, The Cops Shot a Volley of Blamity Blam’s.
Of The 6 That Were Fired , So 4 did land.
Big Mal Now Harpooned, Did Slowly Sink Downwards.
Bottles Rattled And Floorboards Flew.
The Air Gun Clacked On The Ground Harmlessly,
Having Finally Left His Iron Clad Grip.
Medics Arrived And Then Counted Him Out Of The Game, aged Only 41.
But I Ask – Was His Death Really By His Own Misadventure?
Or Was It The Cops fault?
Or Do The Beatles Have Some Skin In The Game?
The Funeral Came And Went, But The Beatles Didn’t Go.
Just A Couple of Big Pips from The Apple Corps Did So.
He Was Cremated And Then His Ashes Posted.
Those Royal Mail Dopes Lost The Parcel, And So Beatle John Did Quip:
“Didn’t They Check The ‘Dead Letters Office’?”
But Now That The Death Was Done, What Doth The Judgement Be?
Your Honor, It’s Clearly 909th Degree Homicide & Now I Will Close My Case.
This Is The Ballad Of Big Mal Evans.
Just A Gentle Guy With a Giant Roar.
The Fluffy Monster The Beatles Needed.
A Constant Presence On Their Studio Floor.
Loved More Than They Dare Let On,
Far Far Too Big to Ignore, But Eventually He Was.
Was Big Mal Evans Maybe The “Unluckiest Lucky Man Alive”?
So “Unlucky” That He Was Actually Now Dead?
Drunk With A Pop-Gun & Shot Dead By The Cops.
And God Help Him, He Was Then Lost In The Post!
Yes, Mal Was Scrooged By The Fab Four and Apple,
But Don’t Blame His Demise On George Paul Ringo Or John,
All They Did Was Answer The Knock On “The Cavern’s” Door.
But I wonder – Would Mal Still Be Alive If They Had Doubled His Wage?
And Paid Him A Lousy 76 Pounds A Week?
Alas, As Ringo Supposedly Said: “Tomorrow Never Knows”.
And We Silly ‘Beatles Fans’ Will Never Know.
And In Closing, May I Ask a Final Question,
And Can I Pose A Final Thought?
Is Money The Root Of All Evil?
Or Is It The Lack Of It, That Is Evil?
Mal Evan’s Life, Or Should I say Life and Death,
Is Surely A Living Allegory, Of That Old Conundrum.
Thank you for listening to the Baby wants Its Bottle Philosophy & Poetry Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.
Anton Martin Smith Writer 