Tag: social commentary

“Many Mansions” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Last Night I Had My 2nd Dream Of “Hell”.

My First Dream Of Hell Was About A Year Ago.

Let Me Summarise & Compare & Contrast The Two,

And Then I Will Analyse What It Could “Mean” – If Anything.

The First Was Not Long After I Begun To Engage In Reading The Bible,

And Engage In Self Research About Christian Theology,

As Well As The Wider History Period Around The Time Of Jesus Of Nazareth.

So, The First “Vision Of Hell” Went Like This:

I Was Lead Into A Nondescript Place – Dark, Brooding,

But Not Quite The Comic Book Version Of Hell.

If Was A Place Where People Walked, But There Was Seemingly No Chattels.

I Don’t Recall Much Other Than The Fact I Felt I was Being Shown It –

Shown It Exists As A Place, By A Benevolent Force By My Side.

This Force Was Leading Me To A Meeting -Without Talking –

I Was Just Following Obligingly.

So In Time I Saw Someone I Recognised – Someone Who Still Lives –

In The Earthly World I Still Inhabit.

He Was An Old Schoolmate – Someone Who Was Always “Too Cool”.

This Time Instead Of Ignoring Me They Said Cheerily:

“Hi Martin How Are You Going”.

They Were Nice In Hell But Mean On Earth?

Perhaps, Contrary To Popular Myth – This Is How It Works –

In Hell They Are Finally Scared Enough Into Being Nice.

He Was About 20 Years Of Age & Had His Flesh Hanging Off Him –

In Large Chunks At That.

That’s All I Remember Of My First Visit to Hell –

Note: I Was Being Temporarily Shown – Not “Committed” As Such.

Ok On To Hell Visit “No. Two”, From Just Last Night.

This One Was Different – I Think I was Being Shown My “New Digs”.

Again, The Dream Contents Seem Short & Simple:

The Force Leading Me Was to My Side –

There but Not Talking Only Leading,

But I Knew That This Was A Place, Cavernous, No Chattels & With ‘Warm’ Lighting.

It Was Like A Landlord Was Showing Me My New Lodgings –

As Best Described As “A Spartan Boarding House” –

This Judgement Of A ‘Boarding House’ – Was A Feeling, Rather Than The ‘Look’, Per Se.

It Came As The Popping Thought: “Oh This Seems Like A Boarding House” –

A Non-Explicit Hunch, You Might Say.

And Then I Was Shown What I Guess Was A Pre-existing Tenant.

In This Dream I Didn’t Recognise Him As Anyone From My Earthly Existence.

He Was Male, & Had the Look Of A Serious Burns Victim & ‘Freddy Kruger’ Sans The Long Fingernails.

It Was the Introduction Where We Say Hi & Engaged In Small Chit Chat –

Except That’s When In Real Life My Mother Knocked On the Door & I Awoke.

Ok My Brief Analysis Is this:

These Dreams Could Be A Warning That Hell Is Indeed Real –

And If You Don’t Explicitly Work To Avoid Going There –

You WILL End Up there.

What A Scary Thought.

Also, The 1st Dream Hell Seems Worse That The 2nd –

To Recap The First Was Like A Walking Half Butchered Sheep-

While the Second Was Like A Functional 4th Degree Recovered Burns Victim.

This Contrast Between the Two Made Me Think:

That This Like A Hellish Version Of The Bible Verse John 14:2

“In My Fathers House There Are Many Rooms. If It Were Not So,

Would I Have Told You That I Am Going There To Prepare A Place For You?”.

For If If Heaven Is Demarked & Graded Into Different Compartments –

Surely Hell Is Too.

Perhaps Ones Life Is Graded As A Whole, & The Score Allocates You To Your Room In The Afterlife.

You Could Be A C- Life & Just Scrape Into The ‘Barely Good’ Digs In Heaven,

Or A+ & Get To The Sublime Penthouse Suite With Endless Room Service All Paid.

Or On The Flipside You Could Fail Marginally With A D & End Up In the Best Rooms In Hell,

Barely Disfigured, only Just Uncomfortable & Only A Little Sick;

Or You Could Fail Maximally With a Zero Score,

& Perhaps Have Endless Eternal Wide Awake Flaming Lobotomy Surgery Etc.

The Most Scary Thing, All Up, I Think Is This:

This Description Seems to Sound A Lot Like the Earth As It Is Now –

But The State Between Heaven-ish-ness & Hellishness Is Unevenly Yoked –

Favouring Hell.

This The By Logical Deduction Brings Forth Another Scary Proposition

Perhaps Our Earth Life Is The Post Judgement Phase Of A Prior “Life”,

& We Are Here Serving Our Justly Imposed Sentences –

In A Very Real Intwined & Co-Mingling Heaven & Hell.

With Most Of Us On The Wrong Side Of the Ledger,

Living In Many Mansions, In Varying States Of Disrepair.

Of Course, My “Earth = A Comingling Heaven & Hell” Theory

May Be Totally Wrong BUT – If I Am Wrong,

Why Does The Countenance Of The Very Nice Look Angelic,

While The Very Mean’s look Like Those Of Demons?

Are These Not An Example Of The ‘Hidden Principalities Of The Spiritual Realm’?

Simply Re-Flowering On The Other Side Of The Canvas?

WWMD’s (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith

He or She Or It Was Likely Very Bad At Maths.

They Can’t Solve Problems To Save Themselves.

They’ve Been Unleashed On Many Unsuspecting Victims,

Throughout The Corporate Office Space World.

This Now Includes The Politicians & Public Service Dept’s

As The Entire World Has Now Become “Corporatised”.

How Do They Survive?

They Are Expert At Being Sneaky Fuckers.

They Pass The Buck & Their Work To The Too Nice People –

Who CAN Problem Solve.

But If There Are No Nice People Left To Take The Buck –

That’s Where Society Totally Collapses.

They Are Almost Always the Best Dressed.

They Scream Like A Toddler When You Ask Them:

“Do Your Own Work.”

They Act Politically & Brown Nose the Boss,

While Stabbing All Others In The Back.

They Often Are Adept At “Falling Upwards” –

(Like That Asshole US Politician Beto O’Rourke)

Meaning They Usually Get Into Topper Management Or High Office,

Which Rewards them For Being Useless Scam Artists.

You Can Spot Them By Their Language –

They Use Empty Platitudes Like –

“Can You Get This Across the Line”,

“Lets Get Things Done”.

Big Companies Are Infested By Them

& They Become A Virus On Society.

These Assholes Really Are

WWMD’s

Workplace Weapons Of Mass Destruction.

They Are The Reason:

That’s Why Nothing You Buy Is Good Anymore.

That’s Why It’s Overpriced.

That’s Why Workplace Culture Sucks Arse.

That’s Why Councils & Governments Can’t Fix Even A Highway Pothole.

That’s Why You Get Taxed To Within An Inch of Your Life.

If Only WWMD’s Were Like George W Bush’s WMD’s,

And Were A Total Fabrication.

Unfortunately, For The Ever Toiling & Suffering Good Folk Of This Planet –

They Are Only Too Real.

What Can You Do?

You Can Suffer & Never Become One Of Those WWMD’s –

& Wear That Badge Of Honour Proudly –

You Can Smile & Imagine This Car-Wreck Is A Cadillac.

You Can Steadfastly Refuse To Go Insane.

All In All –

That’s Really All You Can Do.

For Yourself & The Remnants Of Civil Society.

“The Pile,The Tree & The GDP “. (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith

Isn’t It Weird?

How We No Longer Have ” Economic Recessions”,

Yet More & More People Are living In Cars,

& Strung Out On the Streets.

And For those Not Actually Homeless,

There Is A Consistent 20-30% Of People,

That Are Living On the Near Margins Of Destitution.

Then There Is The Casual Anarchy:

Of Street Crime,

Its Raids,

Its Assaults,

Its Murders.

Yet They Tell Us The ‘GDP Numbers Are Up’,

And Employment Rates Are ‘At Record Highs’.

It’s Of Course A Total Swindle – We Know What’s Going On.

The Growing Ranks Of the Undeclared Underclasses –

Or Simply the ‘Men & Women Of The Pile’ –

We Know The True Reality –

The Bastards Have Manicured A Giant Rubbish Tip –

Not For Themselves, But As A Home For Us.

The Pile Has A Very High Leafy Green Tree That Sprouts From the Center –

That’s What They Live In.

So High Is The Tree – That They Can’t Even See The Stenchful Rottenness Below.

So High They Can Congratulate Themselves On the View – Without Feeling Any Irony

And So High they can Chatter Of The ‘Clean Crisp Mountainous Air’ –

& Tell Each Other That That Nasty ‘Rubbish Dump Modern Art Sculpture’ –

Is Actually A Distant Problem –

Not Of their Making – One They Don’t Really Need to Worry About.

After All – They Live In Those Sun-soaked, Leafy Green Treetops.

But All Delusions, Of Course, Must Eventually Be Dashed.

One Day –

At A Time Not Of their Choosing –

They’ll Have To Admit,

As They Pluck Their Bulbous Gleaming Fruit From Their Towering Tall Tree –

That It Now Tastes Really-Rather-Rotten,

With All Prior Residual Sweetness Now 100% Fully Dissipated.

And So Does the Next One Taste The Same –

And So The Next –

And So The Next –

But Even So,

I Doubt They Will Ever Fully Admit To Each Other,

That It Was Their Own Folly That Soured Their Own Fruit.

For They Thought The Scam Would Last For An Eternity.

……Meanwhile…….

We The Masses Are Cursed To Endure The Anarchy Of the Pile,

To Eke Out A Living,

Of This Razor-Sharp-Tin-Can-Plume,

This Widening Garbage Dump Society:

Filled With Soiled Old News Papers

All With These Kind Of Headlines:

“GDP IS UP & EMPLOYMENT AT RECORD HIGHS”.

Yes – We ‘The Men & Women Of The Pile’,

Resilient Though We Are

Have Had It Right Up to Here,

With This Deepening Suffocating Impoverishing Pile –

This Twenty-First Century Westernised Bantustan,

If You Will.

It’s Time to Call A Spade A Spade –

And Finally Dig Ourselves Out Of “The Pile”.

Then The Tree Will Also Fall.

“EBITDA Demons Are On Your Case” (A Poem)

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Some People Are the Walking Dead.

Scratch That,

MOST PEOPLE ARE THE WALKING DEAD.

Alas -They Have Been Captured.

But More On that Soon.

In Absence Of A Dominant Good Spirit,

A Demon Inhabits The Empty Human Vessel,

Always – Always – Always.

There Can Be No Empty Vessels – Not For Long.

The Common Demon Is Mostly Easily Spotted

They Are The Ardent Materialists.

They Have ‘Dead Fish’ Pinhole Eyes,

They Age Dramatically Early

They Have No Warm Smiles –

Only The Saddest Forced Ones.

They Usually Have Lots Of Stuff – Or “Fine Things”

That They Have Bought With their Slave Profits –

A Derivative Called Financialised Human Soul Energy –

But Known More Commonly As EBITDA.

In General, They Heavily Mistreat the Most Vulnerable –

The Young, The Old, The Sick, The Unwise.

& Glee In Their Earthly Unpunished Crimes.

Most CEO’s are Demons,

As Are Executives,

As Are Corporate High Flyers,

As Are Knights & Dames,

As Are Many Of Those “Climbing The Corporate Ladder”

As Are Practically All The Leaders Of “Organised Religion”, “Charity Organisations” etc.

For They Are Just Large Corporations In Disguise.

All This Is Not Surprising.

The Large Corporation Is The Demons Lair.

And The Bottom Half Of The Hierarchy Triangle

Which Houses 90% Of The People Called “Rank & File” –

The “Workers” – The Ones the Leadership Spits/Steps On,

& Proselytises A Demonic Gospel To.

These People Still Demonically Hypnotised,

Are Trapped In These Cubicle Shaped Catacombs.

The “Office Cubicle” Is The Modern Earth-Bound Tiny Slot In Hell

That – According to the CEO & His Demons

You Cannot Escape From & Are Crazy To Want To

if Yu Believe The CEO & Dark Army Soldiers

You Must Stay For An Eternity,

You Must Bow To Their Darkness

Their Greed

Their Bombasts

Their Lies

You Must Pretend They Are Good

& Not Demons Out To Destroy

It’s A Total Have

Designed To Steal Your Life

Away From You,

In Illegitimate Fashion

You Don’t Need To Escape Them,

As For Many You Can’t Escape THEM.

You Can Only Exchange One Lair Of Demons,

For Another Lair Of Demons,

On Another Street,

Down Some Dark Ally Way,

Housed In A “Big City”

With A New CEO-DEMON ETC

This You May Be Trapped In Forever

Enslaved In Modern Slavery

But Your Soul Can Escape

If You Allow Yourself To See

This World For What It Is

A Shit – Show Run By Demons

See It

But Don’t Ever Be It

And Escape It If You Can.

There Are Still Many Decent,

Small To Medium Companies & Contractors,

That Haven’t Yet Sold their Souls

Over To The Great Destroyer.

But They Are Fading Fast,

Yes, the EBITDA Demons Are On Your Case…..

They’ve Corporatised Billions Of Souls….

Their War Continues Unbounded………..

“Macroncke, The Diner, & The French Fourth Reich.” (A Short Story)

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By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Macroncke Sat At The Table At The Very Posh Restaurant. This Was the Little French Diner That Could. It Was A Favourite Of High Society In France. It Had Old Oak Panelling & Ocean Liner Motif, With Ambient Low Lighting.

There Was No Press Or Outsiders, So He Could Speak Freely Without Fear Of Being Recorded. As Could All His Inner Sanctum At Seated The Table. They Were Known As His Most Trusted Followers, But He Didn’t Trust Them That Much – After All, His Profession Was Politics.

He Had Narrowly Survived An Assassination Attempt From An Inner Circle Member Just Last Year, So, He Was Suitably Cautious About Everyone. This Wise Cautiousness Even Extended To Even His Wife – Prunella.

They All Sat & Watched The Riots On The Restaurant TV, That Was Perched Up High & Almost Out Of Sight, With The Sound Off, But The Captions On.

Late Yesterday It Had Begun. They Saw The Rioting, The Cars Burning, The Looting, The Explosions, The Angry Zombified Faces Of The Masses,

The Rocks & Fireworks Aimed Squarely At The Cops – Who Were No Longer Rugged Or Tough. the French Police System – Like All Institutions – Having Long Been Victims Of A Widespread Philosophe Of Declining Entry Standards.

They Saw All The Wall To Wall TV Coverage In Kingly Comfort. The Table Had Himself – The PM. It Had His Old School Teacher aka His 65-Year-Old Wife Prunella. The Remaining Few Were A Faceless But Nicely Committed & Brainwashed Bunch.

It Had The Minister of Defence. It Had The Minister For Health. It Had The Finance Minister. It Had the Minister For Technology. Finally, It Had The Minister Of Immigration.

But Given The Seemingly Dire Circumstances – Were They In A Bad Mood? Certainly Not. Anyone Who Didn’t Know ‘Dirty Politics’ Might Expect This, Given The Riots Plastered Through The Media. But No – They Were All Quite Jubilant. Ebullient. An Esprit de Corps, Was Clearly Evident.

For This Was A Great Opportunity – For Them & Their Movement. But A Disaster For The People of France. These Kinds Of Riots Were Mostly A Farce. Their Bark Was Far Worse than Their Bite. After All – They Only Burnt Down A Few Dozen Buildings – A Meare ‘Drop In the Ocean’, Compared to All France’s Key Infrastructure.

As Was A Similar Vein With The Looting. As With The Burnt Out Cars.

The ‘Police – Rioter Skirmishes’ As The Press Dubbed These Mostly Semi-Violent Affairs, Only Ever Resulted In Zero to Five Deaths. This Was No Twentieth Century Style Coup & They Knew It. But This Was Not Because The French Citizens Were Not Enraged By Revolutionary Feeling – They Were.

It Was Only Because They Had All Been Spiritually & Physically Weakened By The Plan Over So Many Decades. They Were Energetically Speaking Like A High Performance Car With An Empty Tank Of Fuel, Simply Running On Residual Vapours.

Now That His Inner Sanctum Had All Arrived & Exchanged Pleasantries, He Would Kick Off The Meeting. Macroncke Put His Phone Down On The Table & Stood Up, While Holding His Wine Glass Somewhat Crookedly, it Was Almost Empty, So Remained Un-spilled.

“Ah These Overgrown Teenage Fools Have Allowed Me To Crack Down – Even More Than Before –

I Will Happily Tar All The Masses With Their Own Brainless Fiery Brushes”

There Was Hooping, Hollering, Table Slapping & Half-Drunk Applause From All Cronies At The Little White Tableclothed Tables, Which Were Lined Together As To Effectively Form One Long Thin Table.

Macroncke Continued:

“Ladies & Gentlemen, What Are Your Ideas On Further Exploiting This Moment?”

The Finance Minister Said:

“I’ll Have A Word to The Central Bank Chairman – Remember He Is In Our Pockets – He Will Jack Up Interest Rates An Extra 5%, That’ll Put An Extra 1 Million Of ‘Em On the Streets”

There Was Rapturous Applause & Slugs Of Wine Thrown Back Into Their Wrinkly Lizard-Like Necks.

The Immigration Minister Said:

“I’ll Report That We Are Allowing Another 1,000,000 Abjectly Lost Souls Into France To Plug Employment Shortages”.

More Rapturous Applause Followed, Accompanied By Deathly Like Shrieks Of Vengeance.

Someone Knocked A Glass Over On the Floor – It Broke Loudly, But No One Picked It Up.

The Defence Minister Said:

“I’ll Instruct The Army & Navy That They Can Continue To Practise Their War Drills On the Streets & Allow Rubber Bullets To Fly”.

This Statement Proved As A ‘Damp Squib’, As Much More Meanness Was Expected By The Living Gouls At The Table. He Fixed This Dour Response By Saying:

“I’ll Instruct Them To “Accidentally” Run Over Ten Percent Of Them With Our Police Humvees”.

This Time Jubilation Was Duly Restored – The Cackles & Slaps Flowed Just As The Top-Tier Champagne Had Been. Macroncke’s Wife Prunella Was So Deliriously Happy She Laughed Like An Australian Outback Hyena.

It Was The Minister Of Health’s Turn.

“I’ll Get The Crooked Docs To Whip Up A New Compulsory Jab – To Reduce Their IQ by 10 Points!”

This They Loved Greatly & Hands Slapped The Table Applause & Woops Rang Out For Many Seconds.

The Technology Minister Rose & Adjusted His Glasses Like A Dull Deputy Principal Would Addressing Schoolchildren At Assembly.

“I’ll Put A Trojan House On All the Social Media Apps – It’ll Track Everyone Unawares

To Within A Centimeter”

This Made The Table So Happy they Got Up & Twirled About, Stamping Feet, Waving Arms & Slugging Back Wine Glasses.

Macroncke’s Wife Prunella Got Up & Said:

“Well, I Have No Portfolio & Am Not A Minister – But I Can Punish The Leader, Like I Used To Punish My Husband When He Was My 7-Year-Old Primary School Student”

Macroncke, Although A Fool Was Also An Experienced Statesman, So Only Half Blushed At This Wife Induced Very Awkward Moment – He Stayed Still & Quiet Amongst The Many Audience Murmurs. Prunella The Very Drunk PM’s Wife, Continued Her Monologue.

“I’ll Take The Ringleader Of the Rioters To the Front Of The Mob…. & Then While Facing His Followers –

I Will Pull His Pants Down Smack Him On His Botty, Yelling At Him ‘Who’s A Naughty Boy Then’ “.

The Crowd Around The Table Were At First Stunned Into Silence, Being Not Sure How Macroncke Would Take This Bold But Emasculating Move From His Much Older Wife.

All Eyes Were Eagerly Fixed On Macroncke.

He Stayed Stoney Faced At First -But Then Broke Into A Strained Maladroit Smile, As Typified By Top Politicians.

This Allowed Them All To Go Wild Beyond Belief. The Finance Minister Laughed So Hard He Had To Walk To the Bathroom, Clutching His Bottom While Walking In Hybridised Sloth/Tin Soldier Fashion.

Macroncke’s Wife Abruptly Did A Handstand Against The Bar. What A Pity For Onlookers, That She Also Had A Penchant For Wearing No Underwear.

The Faux Pas Of Her Below the Waste Nudity Was Politely Ignored By All, As If She Had Been Wearing Jeans & Not A Long Floral Skirt.

The Technology Minister Got Up & With A Crazed Expression Snapped His iPhone In Half.

The Defence Minister, Screwing Up A Mock Fight Actually Punched the Immigration Ministers ‘Lights’ Out. The Now Floored Immigration Minister, Gurgled Indecipherable Words While Unconscious On The Opulent Imported Turkish Rug.

The Aging & Very Overweight Minister Of Health Having Seen The Chaos Laughed So Hard His Hernia Re-Burst itself, He Hit the Floor Rolling Around & Clutching His Stomach. He Only Stopped Rolling In ‘Slow Moving Billiard Ball Style’, As He Landed Right Next To The Still Gurgling & Still Unconscious Immigration Minister.

It Took Some Weighty Slices Of An Hour For Everyone To Regain Their Equilibrium & For the Disarray To Clear. Some Stayed Disabled On the Floor, But Were None-The-Less Awake & Attentive Enough To Their Surroundings.

It Became Patently Obvious That This Was The Now The End Of The Night. There Was No Need For Anyone To Prolong the Event. At This Moment The Security Detail Emerged From Behind The Wallpaper & Begun To Escort Them Homewards.

Soon All These Mouldy Old Soul Sellouts Would Be Back In Their Spacious Tax-Exempt Palaces. All To Their Different But Equally Palatial, ‘Quadrupilly Gated Community’ Dwellings.

Macronck Took The Last Moment To Say A Closing Remark. He Was Little in Stature But So Good At Appearing Like An Alpha Male – He Had A Booming Deep Voice & Took Up A Lot Of Space. He Had His Legs Wide Apart & Crossed Arms When He Confidently Roared:

“While My Wife May Have Embarrassed Me Tonight – I Am Not Embarrassed By Your Commitment To The Cause – French Neo-National Socialism.

Now I’ll See You On Monday In Cabinet, To Put Final Plans In Motion”. We Will No Longer Be Beholden to The Riff-Raff of Society – For They Will Simply Cease To Exist. France Can Finally Return To Its Former Napoleonic Era Greatness.”

He Ended With His Per-usual Boastful, Emotive, & Flamboyant Version of What Can Only Be Described As A Partially Veiled “Heil Macroncke” Salute – Which Was Ceremoniously Returned In Kind By The Doting & Wobbling Henchmen & Henchwomen.

Exactly As they Always Did In These Clandestine Soirees & Closed-Door Meetings, As There Was No Need to Hide Themselves, Or their Intentions.

They & Their Security Detail All Went Out The Back Of the Little French Diner To Their Waiting Cars In Single File Fashion. Contentment Was Written All Over Their Hardened & Cold – But Very Focussed Countenances.

For They Knew The French Fourth Reich Was Re-Flowering, With Perfect Timing, Exactly As Planned.

This Would Also, Of Course – Lead to A Great War – The Last Few Decades of the Strategically Undeclared World War 4 Would Melt Away Into A Very Hot Declared World War 4.

The Little French Restaurant Was Now Closing Down, A Few Waiters & Waitresses Milled Around The Table, Tending To The Strewn Cacophony Of Knives, Forks, Spilled Wine & Various Body Fluids Of The Political Melee.

They Were Now All At Their Respective Homes – Soon to be In Bed. Their Respective Drunkenness Ensuring Any Wired-ness that Might Keep Them Also Sleepless, Was Defeated.

The Henchmen & Henchwomen Of The French Fourth Reich, Were All – Bar Macroncke Himself – Sleeping Soundly To The Distantly Soothing Pops & Whistles Of The Wild Street Violence. They Were More than Confidant Their Collective-Machiavellian-Artistic-Dream-Creations, Their Fascist-Twisted-Elitist-Hopes & Dreams, Were Coming To Fruition.

They All Knew Victory Would Begin In Only A Few Hours Away At Sun Up. They Would Reap What They Had Sown.

Macroncke However, Unlike The Others, Had At First His Usual Sleepless Night – Racked With The Thought That At Any Minute His Sneaky Dictatorship Would Be Finally Be Seen For What It Was – A House Of Cards – A False Utopia – The Chaotic Unescapable Maze He Secretly Knew It to Be.

Again, Like Clockwork, At 4 AM, He Took A Handful Of Sleeping Pills And Other Barbiturates From His Overstocked Pharmacy-Like Bathroom & Would Soon Fell Asleep. Before He Had Swallowed The Pills, He Saw That One Pill Looked Slightly Different – Just A Little Brighter Than The Others. He Thought Nothing Of It & Threw His Trembling Hand To His Mouth & Gulped Them Down.

His Mind Now Relaxed A Little. Tomorrow The World Would Begin To Change Seismically – Not In Years, But As The Clock’s Second Hand Ticks. He Smiled Assuredly As He Climbed Back Into Bed, Next To the Fast Asleep Prunella & Then Closed his Eyes.

Just Before Nodding Off, A Final Thought Popped Into His Now Barely Conscious Mind. It Was A Pathetic, But None-The-Less Soothing Rationalisation:

“Well At Least I Can Stretch Out The Decline Of My Empire Long Enough to Create Maximum Carnage in Minimal Time – & I’ll Never Let Them Catch Me Alive Anyway – And If I Plan things Well, I’ll Escape the Hangman Via The Modern ‘Ratlines’ To Brazil, Argentina, Or Perhaps Even The Now Clandestinely Fascist New Zealand or Australia”

But he did awake at around 6 am, in a cold sweat. His nightmare was that he went into work & no one saw him at all – he was invisible & nothing he could do – shout & stomp as he may could garner even the lifting of the corner of a Frenchman’s lips, on top of that he also found no reference to himself in the pages of history.

The nightmare always ended the same way – i.e. the precursor to him waking up in a cold sweat with heart thumping. The only thing that would notice him in these nightmares was a diffuse shadow which implanted via telepathy a direct message in his mind:

“I granted your wishes – I made you one of the biggest Kings of the Earth. I gave you riches, fame & power, and insulation from the ‘Downtrodden Masses’ rightful ire. Now is time for you to repay me. I want your soul Macroncke – as small & shrivelled as it is – I want what you bargained for. I want your soul to put with all the others, to torture for all eternity.”

Macroncke was glad to awake & see himself in the bedside cabinets mirror. As always, he was happy to have his wife see his distress & hug & console him. To experience the relief that he was not in hell & was not being punished for his more-than-misdemeanours.

Prunella said “let’s get back to sleep – you have a big day tomorrow with the media” – she removed her motherly finger combing hand from his hair – they were both more than surprised to see that maggots were crawling all over her hand, having already eaten the flesh off her ring finger.

As Macronke’s Vision Faded To Black – He Knew The “French Fourth Reich” Was Now Over Before It Had Truly Began, & Any Thoughts Of An Easy Escape Were Now Being Roundly Busted. He Slipped Alone Downwards Into A Blacker Than Black Final Spiral Towards His Final Resting Place.

The End.

“As It Has Always Been” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

He Dreamt Of Furure Wars

For A Long Time, Nothing Happened.

But Then After Many Years It Did.

Society Finally Imploded.

The New Operating System,

That The World Had Changed To

In The Early Two-Thousands,

Finally Collapsed.

The Final Five-Decade-Long

Elongated Death Knell,

Suddenly Gave Way,

Under Its Own Weight.

The Operating System Of People

Of Pride, Lies, Corruption, Materialism & Immorality.

The Lies That Were So Big,

That They Were Too Big To Fail,

But They Had To Fail –

As The Operating System,

Was At Core

Sinister.

The Operating System Created Zombies

Of Everyday Men.

But Then A Rupture Came

Called World War Two.

In A Brief Moment Zombification Dissipated

Zombies Were Rare –

For the World Had Been Temporarily Cleansed,

In The Ashes Of War.

But By The Twenty Twenty’s,

Of The 21st Century

It Was Again – Like The Nineteen Twenties – Rare To NOT Be A Zombie.

For The Next War Was A-Knocking.

But As A Man Speaking From The Near Future,

I Can Honestly Say

In Our Times The Fourth World War

Is Now Commonly Referred To As

“It Was The War We Had to Have”.

For Everything On Earth Decays & Corrupts,

In Long Cycles

Just As True As The Sun Rising,

And The Galaxy Turning.

For That That Is Our Struggle Here

Attached To Machines Of Congealed Light

That Require Too Much Maintenance.

I Fought In the War From 2024-35

And Somehow Survived Along With The 2 Billlion Survivors.

I Am Glad To Say We Are Experiencing Another Post War Boom.

We Look After Each Other & Follow The Golden Rule.

But I Know We Are Forever Trapped In A Lull,

A Trough In The Same Cycle,

Created By The Same Operating System.

I Know My Son, Grandson, Or Great Grandson

Will Feel The Pain Of Coming Zombified Decay,

And Will Be Fighting Again In World War Five.

This Is The Curse Of Man On Earth.

Then, Now & In The Future.

It’s The Planet Of The Apes,

Where No One Knows They Are Apes.

And I Ask Of You –

How Dumb Is That?

This Seems To Be Our Forever Nightmare,

Perhaps Only Truely Understandable,

As Punishment For Bad Deeds, In Another Realm.

I Guess We Will Find Out When We Die,

But We Must Forget Again,

After All – We Are All Still Here,

In A Place That Doesn’t Ever Feel Like Home.

If We Are Lucky,

This May Just Be The “Apple Of Knowledge Effect”.

But I highly Doubt That.

I Prefer The Punishment For Bad Deeds Theory,

It Can’t Be A Mistake That Earth Is So Fucked Up.

I Mean – How Can It Be?

And Perhaps the Final Proof Of Our Damnation:

To Go Anywhere In The Universe,

Such As Other Solar Systems & Galaxies,

You Must Travel

Close To The Speed Of Light,

But Conditions Are Such,

That This Is Practically Impossible.

Isn’t That Truth Also Our Prison Walls?

You Couldn’t Design A Better Univeral Prison Than That.

An Intelligent Person Must Respect

Whoever Came Up With That Great Design –

Even If They Are Themselves Captive Prisoners Of His Jail.

But Of Course – We Are Mostly Too Dumb To Realise These Matters,

And So We Repeat The Same Destructive Cycles.

And If You Say These Facts You Are Deemed “Crazy” or “Negative”.

But As I Always Say,

To My Nodding & Mutually Sozzled Fellow World-World-War-Four Vets

“If A Zombie Calls Me Crazy, I Sure Know I’m Not Only Sane – But Entirely Correct”.

Occasionally Someone Disagrees With Us Old Coots,

Even In This Temporary Post War Glow (So the Slide Has Already Begun Again).

But We Take These Omens In Our Stride

Everyone Knows That A Zombie Can Be Neutralised

By Simply Eating His Brain.

So For Now We Can Feast On Zombies Easily,

But We All Know That Soon Again, There Will Be Too Many Zombies,

And Not Enough War Vets.

Ut Semper Brutus, Ut Semper.

“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.)

“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?

“And This One Is Good” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

You Love The World

And That Is Your Demise

You Will Get A Surprize

When You Return As

A Downtrodden Unwashed

And Nothing You Do

Will Work To Change That

Decades Will Pass

Until The Sleep Falls

From Your Bloodshot Eyes

On That Hallowed Day

Then You Can Realise

That ‘The World’ Is The Problem

And A Force You Will Encounter

And Your Heart Can Soon Bloom

Then You Begin To Feel

The Hidden Paradise Beyond

You Now Interface With

And This One Is Good

“The Neo-Con of Neoliberalism” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Thatcher & Reagan’s Neoliberalism

Was pro “Free Market”-

The Only Snag For The Independant Shopkeeper

Was That The ‘Large Corporation’

Was Much More “Free-er” Than He Was.

So It Continues & Amplifies

40+ Years Later.

& So Our Prices Inflate

& So Our Goods Break More Easily

More Than That Selfishness Spread

Bred & Multiplied

As Easily As A Bully Taunts The Weakened Soul

And Then His Cronies Follow His Darkened Path

And Once Selfishness Took Its Foothold

So Society Decayed Dramatically

Like A Cavity Left & Fed With Soda Pop

Each Tooth Began To Fall Out

Until One Day The Last Tooth Began To Shift

We – The Society Of The 2020’s

Are That Last Wobbling Tooth

& Who Will Save This Tooth?

Who Will Save Us?

Who Will Save Us

From These Spiritual & Literal Starvations?

I’m looking For A Show Of Hands

I Expect Not Many Hands Rose

And That’s Why It’s So Easy

For Society To Decline

To Know This Effect More Personally

To Have It Underlined In Ones Mind

All One Needs To Do

Is Read The Pages Of History

And Look At Your World Again

This Time With Unblinkered Eyes

Hurry Fast Now My Enlightened One

Before All The Best Books

Are All But Burnt Embers

Shadows Of Their Former Selves

Just As We Are

Then & Only Then

Can We Defeat Rampant Neoliberalism

That Ever present Neo-Con-Artist

That Dresses In Sheeps Clothing