“Yes! We Have No Bananas” ( A thought/Prose)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The only truly good thing about ‘big time sports’ is the crowd hubbub – for crowd hubbub is a human kind of birdsong.

It is beautiful in its brutality.

The athleticism of the athletes is of second order rank, the contest itself an even more distant third rank.

The score of the game is totally irrelevant, but the outcome isn’t. The score is something like 34-12, but the outcome is not at all the score.

The outcome is one man turning to another & saying –

“Hey Joe what a great game!, it made me forget how me, you & all our kind are modern age forever slave-serfs”.

That casual epitet of the everyman is the true outcome of a ‘big time’ sports event.

Centrally planned contrived escapism for the slave serf so to delay a People’s Revolution.

And it’s worked a treat since the coliseum days, which incidentally never actually ended.

Yes, “The Truth About Us” is depressing, but from Truth does enlightenment flow.

All good philosophers intuitively know this.

All bad politician-authoritarians do as well.

And that we know the truth – our pathway to enlightenment – that ain’t a bad thing at all, at all.

The ‘ignorance is bliss thesis’ is just slave-master propaganda.

So let us enjoy the sports match, but also kick the politician-authoritarian up the arse now & then.

Becasue our serf-slavery won’t end anytime soon,

That is self evident to anyone who reads History.

The point of our enlightenment is this:

Our slave-serf conditions have deteriorated far to much lately & we deserve better.

Let us aim to kick politician-authoritarian arse regularly & non violently.

Like John Lennon said “We’ll do it with humour”.

For he’s right – humour is the only thing the Slave Master is really afraid of.

In Closing:

So Bra –

lets Ha Ha Ha…

to the La-de-dah.

to get thrown a better…

Ba-na-na

“Are All My Fave Writers Just Chumps?( An Idea/Article/Prose)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The best art that is thrown up by the system itself,

And described as the best art by the system itself,

Must be of the kind of art that lets out safely the pent up steam in the most discontented heads,

Strongly so but also safely so out of all the true latent Revolutionarys’ minds,

So as to the deflate the risk of a actual Revolution ever happening.

This is a good definition of what is called controlled opposition.

It is the most natural thing to see the following occur:

A Revolutionary Writer or Artist agrees to castrate their ideas & themselves,

Because this is how they can become noticed by the money payers – The Publishers, The Galleries – Society Folk.

The former potential True Revolutionary sighs in giant relief as they grab the long awaited fat cheque.

With cheque -in-hand the former potential Revolutionary knows they have been kept off the street – maybe for life.

No question – It is indeed a big personal payoff.

Of course the creative will keep deluding themselves or lying to others that they are still a potential Revolutionary.

But this has been made impossible by the publishing deal now done & dusted.

For to become known, to become lauded, to become finacially secure –

At some key level the Revolutionary part has to be nixed, neutralised, nullified – signed away with.

And with the artist’s signature now captured in bloody ink, the future Revolution is indefinitely delayed.

The system has won, at least for now.

For the old biblical quote is true:

How can a house stand if it is divided against itself?

The system cannot ever intentianlly promote True Revolutionaries.

This is why by definition all our so called favourite Revolutionary Writers

Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick etc etc

Have all been co-opted by the system,

& so used as a Societal-Anti Revolution-Pressure-Release-Device.

These kinds of authers are all true geniuses & will have known this fact to be true.

For them it’s a hard intellectual fact to swallow –

But they wanted to be successful writers not True Revolutionaries.

It’s not an easy fact for us fans to swallow either –

We like to delude ourselves romantically that they were/are True Bona-fide Revoltionaries.

It’s a kind of shared fantasy that us fans self-police amongst ourselves.

Our mainstream success anti heroes are real dammit, if only more people read them the system would change! Let’s drink to the True Revolutionaries!

I’m not telling anyone to stop reading Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick et al,

I’m just busting the myth we all happily go along with –

That they are indeed True Revolutionary Writers.

In summary I contend that the adage The pen is mightier than the sword,

Is actually there so the existing power structure stays in power, & is not overthrown.

The True Revolutionary says the sword is mightier than the pen & would never say the reverse.

And incidentily, all the worst (best?) Dictators all had an intuitive knowledge of this.

Despite all their talent for storytelling & warnings Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick et al,

Will first & foremost be Anti-Revolution pressure valves – & so also controlled opposition.

Don’t worry – as a massive fan of them – I don’t want to believe it either!

But this doesn’t stop it from being true.

I’ll also keep reading them all with glee –

despite the fact they are all Societal-Anti Revolution – Pressure-Release-Devices or controlled opposition.

All this is why it’s so hard for anyone to be a True Revolutionary.

You can’t just reach for the cheque.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

“Leaves falling in a bored mans head” ( Prose/A Thought)

By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Right now it is Autumn – or as the yanks say – “fall”.

The other day I looked at a giant pile of wind curated leaves on my front yard.

The thought appeared –

Each leaf has come from a particular tree, from a particular branch, & from a certain sub-branch,

But as I look at the big seemingly homogenous leaf pile – that information is not available to me personally.

The Physics man tells us in that theory you could somehow still “ID” any one of those leaves.

For the total information content of the universe is always preserved.

I thought that it’s pretty cool that there are trillions of seemingly indistinguishable leaves out there but the universe still knows exactly where they came from.

I also was kinda miffed that I’d never be able to find that info – or so I thought.

A couple of days later, most the leaves had fallen – so there were only a couple of hundred of leaves on each tree.

I watched one of them waggle on the tree, & I could even watch it waggle off from its precise location.

That meant when that leaf hit the big pile of its friends below,

I could know exactly where it used to live – which tree which branch which sub-branch it fell from.

A lot of artists say that science ruins the ‘magic’ of the world – I disagree –

I think both of these ‘where did the leaf live’ situations were interesting in their own right.

The real problem these artists who say science ruins ‘the magic of the world’ is they don’t know any science at all.

If they knew just a little about it, they’d see some of the magic in science too.

But I won’t labour the point –

I mean it’s not my place to once again throw the second law of infodynamics into another artists face.

I’ve been doing that far too much lately & I really must cut down on it.

And in closing If you ask someone be they a leaf, an artist, or a man of science

They will all agree that…

….I’ve got to fucking get out more….

But then again….

Is there really anything wrong with leaves falling in a bored man’s head?...

“She, The Red Shed, & Me” (Spoken Word/A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I had been ignoring things.

As my non-fitted sheet was falling off the bed far too easily,

& as it had been doing so for six months –

It was time to go to the Red Shed to get a ‘fitted sheet’.

But I was hungry , so I stopped to get a pie & a coffee for lunch first.

Outside the shop a beautiful young-ish woman walked by.

Of course I noticed her.

Fifteen years ago, I would have been actively plotting to meet her perhaps.

When I was younger, slimmer & could still be temporarily confused for a ‘success’.

On dating matters I was more courageous back then –

I had the raw instinct that hormones allow, & smartphones hadn’t had enough time-on-earth to ruin yet.

Now I’m a jaded 47-year-old, although I probably hide it well –

Due to physical work, having all my hair, & not being too fat or wrinkly.

But like all those who have been around the block – I am of course battle-scarred.

So she flittered past & I finished my pie & coffee.

I went to the Red Shed for a fitted sheet.

I’m looking through the packs, deciding on what pattern looks ok.

Then, there she is – the beautiful pie & coffee girl, doing the same thing as me.

I say ‘girl’ because I’d say she’s under thirty-two.

It was then a few emotions took over.

I felt scared.

Like I had to run away.

It was then I realised,

Just how much a big deal even the thought of dating is,

Let alone a relationship,

For a battle-scarred 47-year-old.

With those pangs of emotions hitting hard, I realised acutely & viscerally,

I was still nursing very old wounds from more than a decade ago.

I snatched the fitted sheet pack & disappeared off.

As I was walking to the checkout, I thought:

This is a very sad state of affairs

I hadn’t until then realised quite how twice shy I really was.

Sometimes reality hits you square right between in the eyes,

And tells you your exact emotional status on the spot.

As I walked to my car, I felt partly ashamed, somewhat enlightened, and tinged with anger.

For I knew that to contibue to indulge those emotions would not bode well for my future heart.

For surely there must be some nasty ephemeral force that wants many of us to stay lonely for life.

It wants us to hunker down in fear & embrace it as a prime motivator, & worship as a guru.

It wants us to fall in love with it in true Stockholm Syndrome fashion.

At least I’ve been around the block enough to know that giving in to such evil is a waste.

Intellectually I know that – don’t we all?

I wonder if I’ll run into that beautiful woman again?

After all – I did forget to buy a pillow….

Perhaps she did too?

Oh there’s one thing I forgot to say.

Between high tailing it away from the fitted sheet rack to the cash register,

I looked at some bogan black jeans on a rack – for nowadays they are not just for bogans.

She walked past & we made eye contact.

I played it cool, & that prior emotion at the fitted sheet rack had dissipated nicely.

And now that I have long left the store & sit here writing in my messy studio,

I am thinking this:

Will I have the balls to say hello If I see her again?

Or will I succumb to being like all the others –

Like every jaded long term single forty plus-er? –

And so say not a peep & desperately avoid eye contact?

That is to allow myself to be typically Mid-Mid-21 Century Socially & Romantically Risk Adverse?

I’d like to think I can next time show some testicular fortitude at the, shall we say red shed pillow aisle.

One thing I do know is this: It can feel nice but It’s never wise to follow the crowd.

Fifteen years ago, I would have felt more confidant this situation.

But then again – I was also a total fool fifteen years ago.

This dear audience, was my ode to being single at 40 plus.

And so, of it all – I dare not talk of solutions.

I’m mostly just happy to just know what’s going on –

For I didn’t have a clue back then, fifteen years ago, when I was thirty-two.

As a battle hardened (or perhaps battle defeated) youngish-old-coot,

I know that to be true.

I guess I better go back to the Red Shed to buy that pillow I forgot about.

After all, I’ll need it anyway.

“Corporatitus” ( A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The longer you have divorced yourself from the banal “Corporate World” the more you recognise it as a disease.

If you are good you can literally see it emanating off those who still suffer from…

Let’s call it “Corporatitus”.

Although we shouldn’t hate these people.

We should feel sorry for them as they are merely victims of the ubiquitous focused brainwashing.

We should quietly, compassionately, & creatively help to bring them to the light.

So that one day in the hopefully-near-distant-future,

They will realise they have become poorly paid supporting actors,

In a very bad movie,

That they didn’t write.

Then they at least have a chance,

To slip out the back studio door & once again feel real-life sunlight on their face.

Special Post: “To the Denizens of the Very Big Cities of Earth” (An Open letter/Prose)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Dear Denizens of the various ‘Very Big Cities’ of planet Earth,

I would like to convey some home truths, not to taunt but to educate &, if i am lucky, put some wind beneath some weary & mottled wings.

I shall get right into it.

Living & working in A ‘Very Big City’ teaches you to embrace a culture of high consumption, materialism & disposability in your life & so also your relationships.

The denizens of the Very Big City suffer from “slowly boiled alive frog syndrome”.

The environment is so toxic yet so normalised, ever present, yet also invisible to the denizens’ hacked eyes.

If you the ‘Very Big City denizen’ don’t recognise this, then you can’t combat the effect.

This is also very profitable for the Corporations – & that’s no coincidence.

The whole reason for a ‘Very Big City’ to exist – is to provide a good return on capital & return on labour employed to the Capitalist.

If you are an employee in a Very Big City who has to go to work to survive – & that’s ninety percent of the population in these cities – & you don’t recognise the true reason a Very Big City exists, then you can’t ever save your soul – then so you will be miserable.

It is as sure as an apple falling from a true under the Gravitational Force.

There’s no avoiding it, even if you have a so called big salary.

Big salary jobs were created by Capitalists of the ‘Very Big City’ to fool employees to selling their time & energy at a highly amplified rate.

The trick played by the Big City Capitalists on the upwardly striving wage-slave is that they think that they can rise up the social ladder, slowly shed their misery on the way up, & be blinded to their in truth amplified wage-slave reality.

As planned by the Capitalist Oligarchs of the Very Big City, the upwardly striving wage-slave never finds the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The trick works perfectly, as once the amplified wage-slave reaches the top, but is still not a bona-fide capitalist, they will do anything to hide their retained if not also amplified misery.

If they let out the truth out of their retained & probably amplified misery, this now amplified wage-slave couldn’t handle the blow to their fragile egos.

This is why so many so called ‘successful’ people in the ‘very big city’ do themselves in, & die by their own hands – they can’t handle the reality, the now mountainous level of pain & anguish, the swindle they let themselves be so easily fooled by.

Big Cities are for Capitalists & people who aren’t Capitalists but aren’t so blind to not know it, & so keep a part of their soul for themselves. Everyone other than that has allowed their soul to be stolen by that ‘Very Big City’.

Often it’s not there fault, that they allowed their soul to be stolen by the ‘Very Big City’ – some did recognise it, but all too late. When they realised they were actually digging a grave & not a life, they were too deep to escape it. From that point you either end it all or you go insane, & agree to keep doing the same thing expecting a different result. So they just kept digging their own graves.

Others escape to the country late in life – but by then the damage is done, the quartz of dispair has become chrystalised. As they say you always take the weather with you. You must leave the Very Big City relatively early, before it is too late.

The overarching reason why all the denzens of Very Big Cities of the world are almost all zombified, cognitive dissonance, Einsteinian version insane, learned helplessness type slowly boiled-alive frogs?

Human beings tend get to comfortable with very uncomfortable conditions, so long as they are highly predictable.

So the real antidote to becoming just another empty shelled garden variety victim of the ‘Very Big City’ is this:

Know thy self, Know thy surroundings, know thy species.

If you know that, preferably earlier than later in life, you will know thy can still escape the real-life Gotham Cities that are, just like the upwardly striving wage-slave, amplifying their misery throughout the world.

Now pledge to never allow them to take all of your whole soul…ever!

Good luck, you are worth it.

P.S. To the few Capitalists & Companies of the V.B.C.’s who are on the side of good – keep battling & your commitment to your workers well-being as well as profits helps massively in the war…for is it not a war we are in – a war for a (wo)mans mind, time & energy?

M.A.S 25/05/2025

Hi there, it is me again…..

I have written some more on the subject, of the same theme – so I will add it here:

….If you try to look for life amongst the dead, you will always end up 100% disappointed, for life cannot flourish in locations where death holds the reigns.

This is why all of the “successful” people that the media dishes up to you are morbidly unhappy, & it shows on their faces. their sunken eyes with vibrancy that has disappeared many decades ago, they look twenty years older than they should.

The modern economy is actually a Death Cult – people who worship death the most in this system are rewarded, or should I say thrown more crumbs by the grim reaper of the The Economy. They are given more paper promise money. But the currency & all its cultural trimmings – banality, lack of creativity, snobbishness etc is only fully valid & redeemable within the death camps – the Big Cities.

Life can only flourish outside the death camps, in the villages & the country, where the death camp currency holds less sway, & life community, happiness, & health can dominate. True Evil must always not only hide this fact – it must reverse & invert it.

So, the mouthpieces of death – The electronic screens, the bosses, the landlords & the owners, the girlfriends, the wives must always work to denigrate the small towns, villages & the countryside, & pump up the paper money urban globe-trotting billionaire with the demon-like face.

To gain traction in the Big City you must all swear an oath to join the army of the soulless. So, that you become a body with no life, a machine with no individual will of your own. A thing that swallows the empty platitudes that dominate the cityscape. The correct instructions & programming that that you were born with – i.e. the contours of Life itself has now gone – that is to say – you have renounced Life itself, & replaced it with Death.

With that accomplishment done, Evil can now ply its trade in full upon you. That way people will see bad as good & good as bad. Then they will voluntarily enter the death camps looking for salvation, well-being & happiness from a cult & camp of death itself.

Brainwashed & re-programmed out of knowing what Life itself is & what it means, they now unwittingly plea to the gateholders of death for a chance to die. When an agent of Death supplies the wish, you have a fleeting sense of joy that feels real. You have been given your chance to move up the social ladder that is a total illusion, based on manufactured false scarcity.

They pray & worship the grimmest of reapers that have the run of those urban un-living nightmares called ‘Big Cities’. They are then given a gravestone to carry around with them – a Corporate Job in the Big City.

Armed with this Job there is nothing left to do but die. And that is what people in their millions & now perhaps billions do. The Evil has succeeded in destroying the Life that you used to have. And you gave it away easily.

But you don’t need to.

So, you can leave the Corporate Job & the Big City. You can start to get Life itself back. Or you can stay in the Big City & preach about what it actually is – a Death Cult, far more insidious that Auschwitz could have ever hoped to be. Point out to the infected that they have been made to think down is up & good is bad, bad is good. The reception will be more than bad – but if one soul is saved then your mission is accomplished. For if this happens, the saved person will save another, then soon it is only a matter of time before the lies are all noticed & the Death Camp, The Death Cult, The Death Economy, The Death Gatekeepers, The Corporate Death Jobs, & The Big City completely folds.

Why not help that Big City meet its True & final destiny a little faster than it otherwise would have? Or you can continue to blindly serve in the ranks of the Evil army of the walking dead.

M.A.S. 30/05/2025

“The Party’s Over” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I think men age better than women,

But women want to party more as they age.

But by age 50 men & women are in the same place on that matter –

Neither of them wants to leave the couch.

That’s when the old party animals all marry each other,

Always in the now traditional ‘Western De-facto way’ of course,

With both the man & the woman finally both admitting total military defeat.

And while they have both agreed to unconditional surrender,

They can still argue peace terms until one of them dies.

So they can now pick away at each other equally, like cohabitating pigeons.

Sometimes pecking softly, other times the pecks reign down like the falling Sword of Damocles.

And all is good.

This one-part misery, one-part part heaven, is after all what they’ve been training for all their lives.

This all keeps both of them mentally agile,

Helping both parties stave away ‘early onset dementia’.

And all this sillyness is the correct amount of punishment for all that ‘wanting to be free’ for so long.

All in all,

I’d sum it up it like this:

All’s well that ends well.

Or as my old dusty old Chemistry Professor said:

“Like dissolves like”.

For it is true, isn’t it?

The world’s problems & most divorces for that matter,

Are surely mostly caused because people insist on trying to mix oil & water.

Can’t you see it’ll never work baby?

Even those old shabby co-habituating party animals can see that!

Let us always remember,

Wisdom comes in many guises,

And it often ain’t so pretty.

“We Are at that point now” (A thought/Blog Post)

Has anyone noticed the content on the internet has got really really boring particularly over the last 2 years? All the once interesting stuff has become sanitised & consolidated, profit-ised to the max. In the podcast space there are perhaps 30 mega podcasters. They’ve essentially became like rehashed early 2000s Network TV again.

I think a totally new kind of platform will emerge/is needed – perhaps it might just be growing craze whereby people go back to physical formats? Perhaps we need a Hologram-Net, which springs up from Zero, & we get a decade of growing & improving content.

Perhaps people will stop using the net entirely? I kinda feel like doing that. The net has made “formerly social people” isolate themselves & made them too lazy to connect in person. Pre internet perhaps 10-25% of us were like that, & that was sustainable – but you can’t have 75-90% of people being like that….it’s destroying humanity! I fear that Bukowski’s predictions about this in the early 90’s has become true…where the ‘normal people’ start behaving like artists, only they never create any art…WE ARE AT THAT POINT NOW…..

The question is:

“Can a totally new medium of communication be allowed to be created – or are we only going to have inferior rehashes with poor & disappearing popularity & reach??? Or are we stuck with the TV-ised Internet/Podcast world of 2025 forever??”

Would be interesting to hear readers thoughts on it all….

“Cities don’t work well” (A thought or Article)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I reckon most females in cities go get a new boyfriend in exactly the same way they’d go buy some new shoes. Inevitably she wears out them & throws them away for the next edition. Call me cynical, but I reckon I’m right. I guess its the same for males, although not entirely as females tend to be the “choosers” (but not always if females outnumber males).

This is why the birth rate has dwindled or has a tendency to – all that is happening is that the industrial consumerism culture in big cities also spilled over into relationships. The effect was entirely predictable & was always gonna happen.

This is why I think that big (western at least) cities aren’t sustainable & require mass immigration to ensure the correct amount of younger people are being brought into the system/city.

Then what happens is the city degenerates into crime & disorder because the non western elements prefer to set up their own sectarian enclaves.

Eventually with this tendency of big cities to end up in a inhomogeneous, weakened & uncooperative state, the city falls to an singular ethnic invading force & the cycle happens all over again.

There is the possibility that the city falls to a singular invading force from within as well. Perhaps this is what we are seeing in cities that have hugely embraced far left ideology – also known as ‘Cultural Marxism’.

When that happens I believe these cities are devouring themselves, which further weakens the city & still paved the way to a more homogeneous much stronger invading foreign population.

*cough* *cough* Melbourne *cough* Wellington* cough *Portland* cough* London* cough* Paris* cough New York…..*cough* *cough*…what next? We should recognise the danger we are in the middle of & work on ways to reverse it. Or perhaps this is just our destiny – to be taken over by a more stable, balanced & sensible lot.


We do live inside the pages of History, after all, don’t we? This no doubt means we will get what the pages of History have already dished out a myriad of times before……..I wonder if this means cities like Melbourne, New York will do then?

Perhap’s while fleeing the apocolyptic helfire, they’ll think to themselves “Hmm maybe we shouldn’t have sacrificed our men for fine dazzling overpriced shoes” ……

…..But I doubt it.

…..BUT…..we must remember this too…..

We need not follow the madness of crowds…..

We can look inside our souls to find the answer….& decide that we’d rather be decent, balanced & on the path to well-being….

I’m on that journey, & if you’re reading this…then so are you…lets wish ourselves good luck in evading the millions of soul-sucking zombies, whose natural habitat is a a big city….that are all sewn together like siamese twins in that amorphous dark cloud the psychologists have called ‘group identity’!

…..of course there are many many awesome people in Big Cities….this article has been mostly about ‘exaggeration for effect’, this is not be a “a-hole” to city dwellers – I am merely trying to point out that the bigger a city you live in, the more social problems there are @ the more atomised a life can be if one doesn’t guard against it. . .Cities can be great, but I think they are best served in small doses.

“Muggings with a side of beer” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith

Ask yourself: Is it The Economy or a just a Raid?

Think about it carefully.

But have a beverage on hand while thinking about it.

You need something to numb the pain of this kind of thinking –

Of how the world truly works.

The ability to choose a beverage, incidentally, Is also proof –

That although The Economy is in fact just a Giant Raid,

By the Rich on The Poor (& now even the middleclass).

There’s still pockets of joy sown into into the sneaky heist.

Sure – The Beverages all aids in their ability to Raid better –

I’m not disputing that.

Only a fool would.

But it’s still better to be offered a beer while being mugged,

Than to stand their without any stress relief at all.

They’ve thought of everything.

But a beer is still a beer.

So let’s raise a glass to our muggings,

With always a wry smile on our faces.

That’s our small victory,

It’s our little POW treat, If you will.