The REVOLUTION will be Capitalised

The REVOLUTION will be Capitalised
Cos they want you to stay home, Sister.
You are programmed to plug in, turn on and cop out.
They want you to be satisfied with fags and chips,
Zoned out and stuck in fear during commercials,
Because the REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.
The REVOLUTION will be brought to you by Agenda 21,
In a 4 part plan with constant commercial interruptions.
The REVOLUTION will show you pictures of Jimmy Saville,
blowing a horn and leading a charge by Cyril Smith,
Rolf Harris and Haroon Kasir to eat
long hog stolen from a London children’s home.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The REVOLUTION will be brought to you by
Channel Four News, ISIS, and the European Union.
It will star Russell Brand and Jon Snow,
Not Jill Dando and Peaches.
The REVOLUTION will come with tits out and sex appeal.
The REVOLUTION will promise to get rid of the knobs.
The REVOLUTION will not make you anonymous,
The REVOLUTION will make a 99% profit.
The REVOLUTION mask will cost you five pounds sterling,
Because the REVOLUTION will be sold and capitalised, Sister.

There will be pictures and slogans on facebook,
Preaching peace and love and sharing prayers,
While pushing tales of war and terror, like memes on a dead run,
Trying to hide behind petitions on social media.
The BBC will reveal the next peado at 9:11,
And report from 23 war torn districts.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

There will be pictures of kids shooting down
children in the instant replay.
There will be pictures of kids shooting down
mothers in the instant replay.

There will be pictures of David Cameron being
run out of Whitehall on a whim with a New World Order.
There will be slow motion of Nick Farage strolling through
Westerham in a red, white and blue Britain First jumpsuit
That he had been saving for just the proper occasion.

Emmerdale, Coronation Street and Made in Chelsea
Will no longer be so damned relevant,
And women will not care if Whitney gets it on with
Lee in Eastenders because sick and disabled people
will be in the street looking for a way to make a living.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

There will be highlights on the eleven o’clock
News and pictures of beautiful women holding flags
and Barack Obama blowing his trumpet.
The theme song will be written by the Lost Prophets,
directed by Danny Boyle, and sung by One Direction.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The REVOLUTION will be right back with a message about
Black insurgents and white supremacists.
You will have to worry about the terrorist in your street,
the snake in the think tank, and the giant in your I-phone.
The REVOLUTION will be sponsored by Coke.
The REVOLUTION will be right back after this break
With a word from our sponsors, Audi.
The REVOLUTION will not put you in the driver’s seat.

The REVOLUTION will be capitalised, will be capitalised,
will be capitalised, will be capitalised.
The REVOLUTION will be propaganda Sisters;
The REVOLUTION UK is planned.

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I’m New Here

I want to move to Glastonbury!
I’d climb up the Tor every day.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
To live my life in an ‘Oh so spiritual way.’

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I would get up with the dawn;
Do yoga in the morning before
I get a chance to yawn.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I could move in near an Ashram,
I want to move to Glastonbury
Start every day with bhajans

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Open a self-help book emporium.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
Be a famous Avalonian,
Be a pseudo-historian,
A sustainable, ethical
Business-woman,
Hold a conference,
Start a consortium!
Make eco-friendly,
Lotions and potions.
I will deal with my demons.
I’ll handle my emotions.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
To hang out with the hippies,
Meet the Druids, be a Bard;
Write poems and folkish ditties.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Do tarot at the Spring,
Go shopping for incense at Star Child,
Wearing my finest, glitter, fairy wings.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Wear purple velvet dresses,
Put flowers in my hair;
Be really abundant and totally blessed.

I want to be a priestess.
The Goddess loves the bestest,
I want to be enlightened ,
Like all the rest …. is.

I want to move to Glastonbury.
Oh … you’ve heard it all before?

But I want to move to Glastonbury,
To fix that problem under the Tor.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
To heal the Holy Thorn.
I’ll change my name to Mama Rishi,
Be reborn, reborn, Reborn!

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Have tea with new age gurus,
I want to open a raw food deli,
Study cabala, practice voodoo,
Hoodoo, voodoo, you do,
Teach the healing that you do,
Talk noo noo, do woo woo,
I want to have colonic irrigation,
And deal with all the doo doo.

I want to move to Glastonbury
Be a Wiccan Hindu Buddhist
I want to be very, very, very
rooted in Avalon’s muddy mist.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
But everybody knows,
She won’t open up to anyone.
Only the chosen get to go.

And then it happened,

I got to move to Glastonbury.
I’m a lucky lucky thing!
To sip the golden chalice,
And sit by holy springs.

I got to move to Glastonbury.
Oh, it made my heart sing
And here my friends,
Is where the story begins.

I got to move to Glastonbury,
It was a … tricky start,
Yet, there I found community,
To really warm your heart,

I was free to be me,
I could dress how I please.
I could fill my bucket,
With a truckle of cheese.
I could love and get loved up,
Do rituals for the bees,
I could step into my power,
And everyone could see!

Then the mill began to turn,
And so the rumours started,
Someone said I summoned demons,
every time I farted.

Next thing I’m a witch.
(I’m supposed to feel offended?)
Which is pretty kitsch,
So I wasn’t upended.

“An uber rich vampire,”
“Wow, that would be so cool!
But I havent tasted blood,
Since that fight I had at school.”

Oh, I tried to keep my patience.
But I fear I lost my cool,
and I wasn’t feeling so spiritual.
I got to move to Glastonbury,

Now I’m screaming on the High Street,
Cos some nutter’s pissed me off,
And I couldn’t give a hundred monkey’s shits
What anybody thinks!

I got to move to Glastonbury
And so started the gnosis.
I got to have a soiree
And a dance with my psychosis.

And everyone but me can see,
Where the bogey on my nose is
While I get lost in the process of,
Process, process, process!

Process, surrender, fucking process,
Process, process – what the fuck!

Process. 

Surrender to the process.

Process, surrender, process ….


I got to move to goldfish bowl,
Where I couldn’t stub my toe,
Wipe my arse or blow my nose
without everybody knowing.

In the open air asylum,
the cracks, they started showing,
Like embracing the siren,
There was no escape, no going.


And before I knew what I was hiding
I discovered what I’m showing.
And thus began the process of growing.

Hi, I’m new here.

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Results Day

A star!
A chance to
B clever, and
C the way to
D fine a worth
E, person
F Distinction.
U made it!
Congratulations!
Kid, you got your results!

I hope you got what you needed,
From whatever the State provided,
That replication of information,
They decided to call education.
Whether you shone or you hid,
Amid the limitations.
However you didn’t or did,
Despite the expectations.

Whatever the A,B,C’s
Of he or she is better than me.
The sum of all those years,
Of coping with the fears,
And emotional equations,
Of complications at school,
Of trying to follow the rules,
While suffering fools.
Gladly or badly,
Trying to sit still,
Keep your cool.

However they scored you;
That mark on the paper,
To specify whether,
You are stupid or clever.
You passed!

Oh Yes! You passed.
All the shoulder barges,
All the knocks and hardships,
The name calling,
And uniform rules,
The blisters you got from,
New school shoes.
All the expectations,
Unfounded limitations.

Through silent inner breakdowns,
Staged assembly breakthroughs,
Through all the lies and the truths.
All the not being heard cos your only a youth

You passed! You made it!
Please know this.
You made it! You Aced it!
Even if you didn’t stick around to face it.

Those forced to choose,
To find another way through.
And learn in a way that suits you.
Yeah, you Aced it too.
Those mindful of the Peace,
of avoiding the Queues,
Those who crossed the I’s,
and spotted the Tease.

You see;
Genius isn’t in a GCSE;
You are fabulous and unique,
You are A Level of brilliance,
That no one could ever see,
From looking at your A,B, C’s
Defined in a score on a sheet.
So whatever the letter,
And despite the contradiction,
Know that you did so much better!
That is a worthy Distinction.

Lisa Goodwin – August 2014

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Gorsedh Ynys Witrin Bardic Trails.

Image

Gorsedh Ynys Witrin Bardic Trails.
 
Glastonbury Assembly Rooms
13th May 2014 at 7.30pm
The theme for the 2014 contest is The Waters of Avalon.
 
 
The initial round of the contest to find a Bard to represent Glastonbury for the forthcoming year. Finalists will be chosen to go through to the Finals on 19th May.

1. This contest is open to all who live within a day’s walking distance from Glastonbury. (see Guidelines below)
2. The winner will be the holder of the Bardic Chair of Ynys Witrin for the following year, a title which will revoked after a year and day.
3. The entry may be of any form, but the judges will consider relevance to the theme, adherence to the time limit and performance from memory as important in making their decision.
4. The judges have the right to refrain from selecting a Chaired Bard if they feel none of the candidates are of sufficient quality or ability to fulfil the role. In this case the outgoing Chaired Bard will remain in office for another year and a day.
5. The judges’ decision is final. No correspondence will be entered into.
6. The attention of the chosen and Chaired Bard will be drawn by the Council to ‘The role and responsibilities of the Chaired Bard of Ynys Witrin’ 
7. Previous winners of the Bardic Chair of Ynys Witrin may re-enter after 3 years.
8. The holder of the Chair is expected either to undertake to maintain the condition of the Chair, Ceremonial Robes, Silver Branch and Book, or to request the Secretary to make appropriate arrangements for their curation. The official artefacts must be returned to the Bardic Council at the next Annual Open Gorsedh.
9. The Gorsedh retain the right to change these rules as necessary by committee meeting.

Guidelines: The catchment area is defined as the distance that the Bard can reasonably be expected to walk into Glastonbury, perform their duties and return home again within the daylight hours. This is reckoned to be somewhere around 12 miles radius from the Tor. Contenders are expected to have been resident in the area for at least a year and a day.

http://ynyswitrin.org.uk/rules/ for more information and entry form herehttp://ynyswitrin.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/bardic_entry_form_2014.pdf

 

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Farewell

bardic poseThis is the last day of National poetry writing month and soon it will be the end of my year as chaired bard of Glastonbury. Check http://ynyswitrin.org.uk/ for details of the next bardic competition. Some folk want me to contend again, I want to give another voice a chance x So here is a farewell poem.

Give me another voice!
I want another poets words to
Grace the page. Let us expose
A new bardic inspiration.
Another face to take the stage.
That’s enough of my noise.

Give me a new rhythm!
Tales tripping on another
tongue to twist myth and
rhyme. A new muse; Awen
shine through someone new.
Let me hear that wisdom

I still have many tales to tell,
I will always be a bard,
and after this initiation,
of a year and a day,
Hark when this elder bard says.
‘Give me a fond farewell.’

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This Town is an Island of Glass – Day 29 of 30

Only one more day to go. Today’s prompt got us working hard – http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-29/ We had to use twenty little projects in one poem. It made for a quirky and interesting dialogue.

This town is an Island of Glass. The angle of
incidence equals the angle of reflection with an
echo of frankincense legends. The taste of our
heritage, no more than claret wine spilt on the
altar. A stain that even Joseph, with his Aramaic
descent would not permit. He would shatter the
illusion; reveal the truth. This town is an island
of chaos. The ubiquitous temple of pandemonium.
It’s not even an island. Nor plim ti gripes and bens.
Yet the waters rise only to startle our eyes with
weeping for a memory long gone. Tales of Dee,
an apple-squire and a plum cheeked wench.
And if ‘those feet’ walk over water to this
mountain green, would theyrush to the market
place? Fill bags with prayer flags, crystals,
sheepskins and slippers? Not even Medusa
can transmute profit’s bane. Turning stone to
silver until the dragons rise up in dissent to
reinstate sovereignty. A soundless clarion
to build heaven on earth. At least to realise
it’s here. It is a wise man who stands in the
wildness of his conviction and gives no
master the key to his immortality. Nor
the gnosis to immanentize the eschaton.
A grail talks to those who are worthy.
Shattered fragments reveal a reflection
of sorts, a sword calls us to remembrance.

Lisa Goodwin – 28th May

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Britain Christian? One Believes and One Does Not. Napowrimo Day 28

Day 28 – Thank you to all those who have stuck with me – only two days to go. Today’s prompt is to write a poem using the words in a news article. This one caught my eye.

Cameron ignites a religious debate of British life,
He fears the era of regular worship is over.
Urging Christians to be “evangelical” about their faith;
He wants a Christian country; A nation of believers.

Britain is a “post-Christian” country,
The old Archbishop has boldly declared,
Britain no longer “a nation of faithful”
Decline in the Church, likely in years ahead.

In the sense of being saturated by this vision of the world.
Our cultural memory could be quite Christian.
But with a shrinkage of awareness and commitment.
Clegg wants disestablishment of the Church of England.

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