Money is as innocent as the Sun (Part 2)

(sound of dripping water)
water wishes water like, ‘dust to dust’,
the sun has got his hat on and … er!, is it made of the earth’s crust,

money,
the conspiracy,
that has us believing we’re the theory,
not to be believed,
our credibility deceived,
of it’s duty,
to make believe our truth is beauty,
not just to be seen to behold,
but to be cherished in the commonfold,

have we been dangling so long on the end of this line that we were sold,
that, “there is no such thing as the commonfold”,
we can no longer be bold,
now life is the penalty,
if life is a penalty, are we really dying, or just living?
and if giving is receiving,
can we make truth and stop believing?

money the conspiracy, money, a performance enhancing substance,
taken, as our absence,
that’s puts us in our place,
in the closing stages of the our race,
and it must have felt so much like it had all just begun,
after the last world peace was won,

never again,
money to reign,
in the absolute,
with the power to mute,
to degrade, to starve into submission,
decency and dignity,
for the sake of money’s silent partner fascism,

money,
the conspirici,
ok, i know that’s not quite correct but, it rhymes with alibi,
it wasn’t you, nor me, certainly not we, it can’t have been I,
we’re the species of the alibi,
from totemic mitigation, through prophetic inspiration, to money’s circulation,
it wasn’t you, it wasn’t me, not we, and surely not I,

money’s absence is our presence,
our fortuity, money’s necessity,
money’s certainty, our confusion,
our doubt, money’s foregone conclusion,

money,
the conspiracy,
the final frontier of theories, not to be believed,
I dare you,
I will if you will,
surely we can see through anything is quite what it seems?,
a species domesticating itself through our shared waking dreams,
where shadows cast figures and smoke with out fire fuels our schemes,

money,
the conspiracy,
an abstract parental surrogacy,
the mother we never had?
nature never wanted us, not really,
and she is a bit touchy feely, joke, …
—-
money a conspiracy?
as theories go, I’ve heard worse,
would you believe me if I told you it was the premise of a prize winning verse?,
first prize a publishing deal,
financial security at last; how does that feel?,
the contract arrived in the post the other day,
I don’t know how many times I read it, I thought I might bringing it here to read to you today,
but I didn’t, I tore it up, and I threw it away,

Why? ..
I’d like to say, it was a matter of conscience and consistency,
not having those words possessed by money’s conspiracy,
but, if I told you that I’d be fibbing,

What it was was, that prize winning verse was full of metaphors,
of keeping the wolf from these doors,
and this contract had a clause,
a metaphors clause, if any metaphors, turn out to be fact, end of contract,
how was I suppose to know,
some thirty odd years ago,
the wolf had actually been re-introduced to these shores,

talk about a last straws!,
yes, I am up for that,
but I don’t think we should, suck through them any more …
before long we’ll be grasping at them to breathe through …

who was to blame,
if I could find out there might be a loss of earnings claim,
visited the offices of one of those firms advertised on tv,
no win no fee … office!?
It was a facade,
a familiar looking gentlemen came in, he had the air of the Marque de Sade,
but he wasn’t. he gave me his card,
Mr S … Holmes, Sherlock!?

He tied me to a chair,
and as you’d expect, began talking to me like I wasn’t all there,
in a voice that didn’t sound like him,
and I’m not just saying that cause I can’t do an impersonation,
“you’ve got that cockamamie,
everyone’s against me,
self flagellating theory,
look in your eyes, ‘have I?’
all conspiracies and lies,
spare me the whys,
and the wherefores,
the wolf, re-introduced to these shores,

sure, let me guess, to replace those three lions with something indigenous on all fours,
with teeth and fur, but not claws,
wolves don’t have claws”,
but, I said, like lions, wolves do have paws, (pause)
No, paws, not pause … (pause) tu!
‘He gestured for me to hand him my mobile, I did, he put my mobile and his mobile into a sound proof box’,

his voice and his whole demeanor changed,
he said;
“sorry to come across like some complete Weir wolf Zionist Israeli,
I’m not like that in the slightest, for really,
It’s  a hideous pretense,
I’m having to maintain to avoid the surveillance,
‘the surveillance?’ …

he told me, I might have a claim, really!
the wolf was re-introduced to these shores, yes, but not literally,
it was an attempt,

by the establishment,

some thirty odd ago,

to reduce the figures of poverty on these islands to an all time low,

figuratively,
the wolf wasn’t actually,
released into the wild,
such places a lone parent or carer would always accompany a child;

and the poor?
well, the wolf you see,
can’t be relied upon in the reduction of adult poverty,
the prowess of the wolf is somewhat fabled,
unless that adult was, alone, weak with hunger and/or disabled,

and stories spread of impoverished parental acts of selfless heroism,
that can’t be allowed can it, that might create some kind of moral ideological prism,
the poor shown in such a light,
it might insightful fill,
minds awash in news paper ink swill,
and who knows what such insight it might instill,

placing in jeopardy,
this ‘unwritten policy’,
visa vi,

a chord might be struck,
that resonates back to that stand that we took,
when European fascism was gaining currency,
alone, we faced invasion, ruin and bankruptcy,

a people not too big to fail?,
no financial institution institutions,

forth coming with rescue packages solutions,
for to bail?,
its hard to say, I know this is hard to hear, but it would appear … it was neither here .. nor there … to this money, if we did or didn’t prevail?,

but prevail we did,
as the dollar made its final bid,
with enough leverage to screw down tight that lid,
on those old world empires of racial persecution and supremacy,
with a policy,
of, ‘dictators for de-moc-racy’, when it suited,

and with peace at last,
came a loss of patience on mass,
with money’s license, to pass, off
them as us, and us as them, until,
peace at last …
recast the shadow of the incredulous class,
‘pardon, the common good’?!, isn’t that a oxymoron’?

and with peace at last  came a loss of patience on mass,
with money’s license to pass, off,
peace as war,
and war as peace,
still a binding lease,
with so many prices to pay,
just one that give the right to say,

‘a people’s war begets a people’s peace?’,
loud and proud,
and that phrase can be heard,
in the two minutes without a word,
at the annual memory letting stone,
two minute silence down loadable as a ring tone, (pause)
I think we should answering that?

sacrifice is,
money’s antithesis,
beyond measures praxis,
sacrifice is the axis,
on which our story turns,
our actions spurns,
alibi’s reflections,
to follow dignity’s directions,

so the wolf made itself scarce in lairs off shore,
tides rising,
salivating for money’s more, money’s more …
money’s conspirator,
across the pond waited,
breath baited,

laid in wait,
for that sense of war time predation,
to abate,
and the wolf laid in wait,
and the wolf laid in wait,
for a generation to translate,
sacrifice through pomp and ceremony money’s bait,

‘Comrades in arms’,
in the mouths of our leaders,
minus the munitions,
that expression quickly begins to lose its charms,

‘Comrades in arms’,
they relish that phrase, and how it embalms,
heroism’s enflamed cooperation,
as war, just as war, as nation, just as nation,

pita-patter, pita-patter …

those sacrifices made, did they have a half life of thirty odd years,
to then begin to fade,
in to a back ground sound,
only to be heard,
in the two minutes without a word,
pita-patter pita-patter pita-patter echoed those paws,
through the banks, the courts and government, orphanages’ corridors,

I hear the Royal prerogative is going to used,
to get around those draconian child protection rules,
and wolves are going to be introduced into schools,
not all schools of course,
that might lead to a spate of divorce,
amongst MP s,
they can deal with this exemption being used to increase school fees,
what is money for if not to keep the wolf from money’s door,

let’s remember, to forget,
let’s remember, to let, go …
yeah! … maybe it was all just one guileless coincidental collective loss of memory?
no conspiracy,
no unwritten policy,
the establishment were just weary,
of their media chums mocking by-lines and snigger’s?,
not something sinister, like avoiding coming on TV to make denials like, “These wolves are merely nursery, rhyme figures”

I don’t recall, when I was a young man, any stories on the local or national news,
of wolves disembarking, with expressions on their faces like they have nothing to lose,
seeking out the vulnerable; while wondering up and down our beaches,
that hasn’t happened, cause that couldn’t happen … well, we would fight them on them wouldn’t we, didn’t we?
so history teaches,

in those iconic speeches,
with layer upon layer of that plural possessive adjective,
that reaches,
to create a sense of commonality, whose?
that beseeches,
time to be a reality,
possessed of a self-possessing power,
our,
time!,

as if time was rebooted!,
for those for whom it had previously suited,
time to be instituted,
in its passing,
solely in the amassing of fortunes pillaged and looted, made
in the shade,
of empires parade,
“handing out flags poised to wave,
first comes, the shallow grave,
followed closely by the sounds of the mass grave, (sound effect – digging)
oh, and there’s the regal, wave?,
for the fly swarm (sound effect) past in close formation,
of early grave, after early grave, after early grave, after early grave, after early grave, after early grave …
cheers for the unmarked grave, there somewhere,
a courageous attempt at a wave,
from those taking up the rear, the paupers grave,
eyes to the right for money’s crusade,
that converts to degrade,
life to dig its own,
under the imperial serial searing never setting sun”,

suddenly!, that time became one …
our time …
Our finest hour … so far?

… are we still taking of breathes which were given,
that we might not be,
enwaged as the property of that tyranny?,
or is that no longer physically a possibility
this air, since those sacrifices, has it been cleansed, replenished completely?
So now, that consensus-sensuality, of air,
that once filled this lung with the commonality, a duty of care,
for the generation to come, not to bare,
not to be,
enwaged in the tyranny of property

rising like the tide, or just a memory?

Let’s remember .. to forget,
let’s remember .. to let go
of now,
a difficult time,
we’re not ready to face, not yet;
not now!,
let’s remember how,
if sacrifice is,
money’s antithesis,
beyond measures praxis,
so sacrifice is the axis,
on which our story turns,
a generation learns, and forgets,
learns and lets, go
of now,
that difficult time,
we’re not ready to face,
not yet;
not now!,
let’s remember how, it was,
when it like wasn’t now,
yes! … oh.. just me then? …
when it wasn’t a time of regret,
remembering wasn’t done to forget,
it was how the present and the future met,
in a resonance remembrance beyond ceremony,
shared losses antidote to wars alchemy,

sacrifices agitation,
to obligate,
to generate a generation,
to create this never again land,
isn’t that the sea, steady!

never again, ‘never again’, not to be heard,
in that two minutes without a word,

lets remember,
to breath in, breath out, breath in, to share,
our breath was … is the air,
but not the other way around,
or we’d be in trouble, serious trouble,
we are,
again,
money does reign,
in the absolute,
with a prerogative to loot,
and to riot,
through our minds our communities,
our bodies, our shores, our food,
our homes, our air,
on the quiet,
reeking on the QT,
rampaging grinding money’s insecurity,
into the havocked lonely family,
smashed and grabbed,
sparkling youthful suicide slabbed,

polluting is not like looting,
our children’s children’s future, though,
in no way does it resemble a riot, so,
quiet,
lets defy it,

Not that we’re going to take it seriously, of course,
cause we’re just a theory, off course,

money,
the conspiracy,
that has us believing we’re the theory,
not to be believed,
our credibility deceived,
of it’s duty,
to make believe our truth beauty,
not just to be seen to be sold,
but to be cherished, lets enfold,
and wrap them up in wreaths of flowers red and black,
don’t let them see the courage that we lack,
and lay them down by the annual memory letting stone,
and whisper lullabies of the unknown known,
we’re not just going to be pictured memories on your phone’,
‘your pride in what we did for you, will carry us with you, into the unknown known,

there there, their now is now …
there there, their now,

and they’ll remember to forget,
they’ll remember to let go of now,
that time we couldn’t face, not yet,
not …

there there their now,
their now is now …

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