Wednesday, 30 October 2013

may the skies always be grey
may death never rain down on you
while the remote control peace laureate
presses buttons and signs death warrants
in washington far away

may the skies always be grey
may the drones sleep today
president obama's a good man
he has a good plan
target someone, anyone
count them all as militants

may the skies always be grey
are your far flung brethren allowed to pray
in their stateside mosques
or will they be targeted too
interrogated and dragged away
to some place where the walls are grey?

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

fuck your diplomacy.

Turning vegan was not something I spent time agonising over. I saw a documentary about dairy farming in India and knew I could not continue being a part of a system that snatches newborn calves away from their mothers, often leaving them to die. All those Hindu morons who worship the holy cow and guzzle down its milk need to know that we no longer live in the halcyon days of yore, if they ever existed, and that the dairy industry today treats cows as captive teats and as often as not sells surplus calves to slaughterhouses. I don't need to equivocate with morons implying that veganism is a choice only 'elitists' can make or to engage in a dialogue with non-vegans on how one has to ease the transition.

Transiting to veganism did not come without its drawbacks for me. I lost a lot of weight, I had muscle cramps because of insufficient protein and I often felt weak and run down until I incorporated suitable substitutes into my diet. You could say I should have first done my research, but once I knew what eating eggs and consuming dairy products implied in terms of suffering and cruelty, I didn't care. If you want to be vegan, it means you don't value your life above those of animals. Fuck you and the ease of your transition. Either you want to be a party to murder or not, that's all there is to it. 

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

worried

It was always difficult finding time to dream
Wading through cloud, looking for the silver seam
It was always difficult working against the grain
Finding a space above mere loss and gain

Now my life has been inverted, upended
The clouds have cleared, serfdom has ended
Or at least, has ceased to be an easy road
Now my art is the only burden, the only load

All I have now is time to stare, to aestheticise
To dream forever beneath endless blue skies
And I do not mean to fret or complain
But sometimes it is hard to strive without strain

I do not miss the drudgery, the genteel bondage
I do not wish to return to that clouded age
I spent toiling for someone else's profit
It was a diurnal inferno, I will not return to it

But I wonder if the trade I made was wise
Can I really tell pain from blue skies?
Most of all, was I right to dedicate my days
To an art that satisfies but seldom pays.


Wednesday, 9 October 2013

two poems

Two poems about Little Red Riding Hood, the first is by me and the second by my wife. Next time, she will write the first one and I the second.

Reading Red Riding Hood, Age 6

- Jayaprakash Satyamurthy

There will be a wolf in the woods
There will be a young maiden and an old hag
I understand most of this
The woodcutter scares me
His axe sticky with the sap of his victims
His burly body slick with sweat
He bursts in and
Slices open the beast
He seems to kill a lot of wild things
I think Granny and Red
Were happy to be eaten
Masticated and slowly digested
In a dark place, far away from
Axes and sweat and heart’s sap

In A Lone Cottage

- Yasmine Claire

There are maidens and there are wolves,
And then there are the rescuers,
Big, burly, brave,
They burst in, uncalled,
Unasked.
Dragging with them, death,
In bloody trails.

But the forest is old,
I, older still.
I have walked these paths,
Known each tree,
Known each beast,
And held their magic,
In me.

Know, hunter, when you kill,
And spill life,
I am watching,
Waiting.
For you to burst in again,
Unannounced.

My grandmother and I,
We are readying a feast,
Wolf is by the hearth,
The fireplace warm,
Outside storm clouds gather.

You are lost, hunter,
Tired you drag,
Feet, weary and hands blistered,
Fingers caked in mud and blood,
You seek us.

In a lone cottage,
A welcoming light shines,
Inside two women and one wolf,
Ancient and endless,
Wait.

Wait, hunter,

For you.

Thursday, 3 October 2013

yeah okay so this is happening


I, Asshole

'When I tell people I don't eat meat, bread or etc. I always follow it up with "and please don't group me in with the vegans. those people are fucking assholes."'

Because only assholes try to live without cruelty.