Remember, Remember the 10th of December

I chose this political topic to start off our new series of interesting, important articles as it is time sensitive.  I know it may be controversial, but when wrong has been done to a country on an ongoing basis, I like to point that out. Unfortunately, due to the time difference, I missed the timing for the rally call.

Remember Remember the 10th of December , the day that the Government Fell ,
And we lent them a hand with a final demand that would see them all go to hell ! 

With a ne'r by your leave nor a tug at the sleeve for the things that we asked for ...by right ! 
While they blackened our name and tried to defame us with talk of violence and Fight .

Well , a fight they have got , and one that is not , of the type they tried sell to the press , 
And our numbers will swell and we'll see them to hell in the wake of their own sorry mess . 

And it won't be a few that wash that whole crew right out of the Dail you can bet , 
For the days now are numbered for those that encumbered the People of Ireland with debt . 

So now God please save us from those that enslave us and help us to stand up with pride ,
And banish the ones that dance for the huns and got there because they have lied . 

We need faith in ourselves and to find that which dwells way down in the depth of our soul , 
A bond that unites and takes us to hight's of virtues that we can extol .

So now can't you see united of course ,
we can make this small country a place ,
Where the riches bestowed are a gift not a load to be taken for profit by force . 

So Remember Remember the 10th of December the day that the Government Fell ,
They are weak we are strong it is time they were gone and it's probably just as well . 

For they rule by ' Consent ' and the promises lent to the will of the people they serve , 
Now we've seen through their scam it is time they were ran and get just what they deserve .

For they lied and we cried and we let it be known , that this pain it is too much to bear ,
But from ivory towers they spend what is ours and they do it without any care .

And they don't feel our pain as we stand in the rain , sometimes you would think it's no use ,
But take heart Ochone for you stand not alone , and we'll take no more of their abuse .

If we take back our Isle then fortune will smile on a people united and strong , 
But divided we'll fall and dance to their call and that would be terribly wrong . 

We don't do this just , for our own selfish gain , we do it for each generation ,
For the ones still to come and the ones too long gone that we hold in great veneration .

When your children grow up and they ask you............................... "Where were you , on the 10th of December " ?
Don't let it be said as they put 'YOU' to bed , that ..... "I'm sorry I just don't remember " ! 

So ....Remember Remember the 10th of December , BRING OUT FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS AS WELL , 
And let it be known in every town ' TWAS....... 

Raymond Whitehead, Dublin Ireland
Co-Founder of the Democracy Direct Now
FB:https://www.facebook.com/raymond.whitehead.58?fref=ts&ref=br_tf
www.RaymondWhitehead.com

A Poor Boy’s Love Song

 
What does it mean to me
All the fine talk
Of tender lotus buds simmering gently
Or of steamed chili peppers
Opened to find their hidden seeds

When my garden lies fallow
In the drought’s sweltering heat
When my land is lost to power and to greed
When there are cesspools
At the end of my street

What to me are honey drenched dates
That drip in sweetness
From sugared moments
When my hope is choked in terror
Buried in the drifts of dust and sand
And the olive trees die

In the rage of war and hate

What to me
Is the taste of ripened pears
Laid bare by hungering shank
When the smug of self satisfaction
Wreaks in the hallowed halls of banks
And destroys the honesty of leaders
Who only use their power
For privilege and for rank

All my journeys end in alley ways
Scribbled corners
Graffitied walls
And the ruins of concrete

But come here anyway
Tell me that you love me
Tell me that you dream of me
Each night you fall asleep
Make this one moment’s lie
Sweet
Somehow make me want to be

c  5/21/13
Sandy Hartman

 So much turmoil in the world today.  It is time to write of one of the toughest issues that exists globally....unemployment and the lack of futures for so many young men. These youth will never reach their potential and we well never benefit from the loss of their talent and their work in our world. They hold our futures.  We will share their loss, no matter how indirectly.  What better calling for writers then to write of the great global issues that we as a people face.

If you wish to view the photos and slide shows as well as listen to the audio clip of this poem, you are invited to my web site at

www.eonwriter.com

Sandy Hartman

Sandy Hartman is a poet and blogger.
Member of www.NLAPW.org, Jacksonville chapter

Carnival of Fools The Mardi Gras of Meltdown

Here we are again, Dear Friends,

Right in the middle of election season.  It deeply puts me in mind of that fateful weekend in '08 when all the great financial, investment and banking leaders were meeting with political,.fiscal and congressional heads of finance and government to try to figure out how to avoid a catastrophic meltdown of our monetary system.

I sat down and began writing one of my most intricate and lengthy poems about that weekend and what brought us to the crisis.

After four years of writes and rewrites enough create a confetti shower at a New Year's eve party, I finally got it together.  Then 6 more months of considering and choosing the photos and deciding their placement on the site page.  All of you who work with sites know the many limitations they present and how finicky they can be. 

Soooooo, with that said, I present to you Carnival of Fools, the Mardi Gras of Meltdown.   It is posted on  www.eonwriter.com   --- the second poem.    If you like the poem and the gorgeous photos, I am asking that that you give it special consideration for sending on to friends and  acquaintances since my site has no ads, no blogs, no links, no comments. . .only astounding photos, my poetry and the accompanying audio.

I am very surprised at how many people I talk to have no idea what happened to cause the final meltdown, and don't understand what was the final break in a long series of events that resulted in the loss of income, savings plans, pensions, homes, and ultimately, jobs for so many of us.   Without trying to be partisan, I have tried to clarify that final event from an unusual perspective, Mardi Gras.  If you think Carnival of Fools helps, please post it and link it to sites that will help it find its way.   Thank you,  www.eonwriter.com   Sandy Hartman     

                                     Carnival of Fools
                          The Mardi Gras of Meltdown

Oh, the grand parade has come at last
And all the revelers swagger past
Saints Go Marching In

With their leverage, pork and show
And proposals shrewd and bold

They wish to staunch their loses

That are much too cruel to hold 
They whirl and twirl and dance
To jazz, pizzazz, and razzmatazz

They've spent a frenzied weekend
Adjusting their adornments
Refining their performance

Now it’s down the streets of gold
To the Capitol of Capital

King Congress
That they go

Hey come a down beat     Boom beat     Down

They strut their stuff on K Street
They saunter down through Wall Street
On they go to Main Street and all around the town
See all the speculators, the managers and bankers
See all the lobbyists, executives and raiders

Judiciously they hedge in prancing camouflage
Identities are blurred, realities obscured
They wear their sparkling masks
Daubed in paint and mourning ash
They whirl in feathered frills
And laissez fare's panache
Boom jam    Jingle jam    

Caper down the street jam     

                   ~~~~~

Oh, they'll testify to tragedy
They'll tout their credibility
They'll mourn for the economy
And disappeared liquidity
Then they'll warn of credit urgency

And mortgage backed security

They’ll tell of what is wrong

All wrong         Gone wrong
Beyond their small control wrong
Boom jam     Doom jam     Hey baba June jam

They’re unavoidably caught up
In floods of green and gold
They'll swear in loyal innocence
They know not how it's so

They are patriot paraders

Responsible and reasonable
And now they’re ready to cajole
Juke jive       Jump alive

La dee da dee da      Lies!

There are mighty plans for buyouts
And clever plans for bailouts
They'll ask for pretty handouts
To make the money flow
They'll assure the Treasure King
With their paper assets sound
They say they know of wizards
Who'll insure parades abound

Oh , they’ll devise, derive, and advertise

Their business sense they will revise
Voodoo magic     Mumbo jumbo    

Pork pie and gumbo

                      ~~~~~

But there are marchers over there
In jeans and denim shirts
They carry paper bags
For lunches when they work
There are marchers with portfolios
In suits and ties and collars
They have lists of all their pensions
Their investments and their dollars
They’re in ordinary guise

These marchers can’t be wise
They have no glitz, no glamour

No costumes nor disguise

They’re rather like the crowds

Who gather in the streets
The crowds that beg for beads
And push for passing treats
They satisfy themselves
At painted breasts to peek
They ask for lipstick kisses
And their promises so sweet
They dream Chantilly dreams
They follow ruffled goddesses

Who saunter down the street

Shuffle rompin’     Street stompin’ 

Groovin’ to the juke    Jive

Now look again above
At fat and thin white faces
Squared in gilded windows
Looking down upon the fray
Their tall silk hats and black bow ties
Appear and disappear
They white glove wave and sip champagne
To toast the crowds that shout acclaim

And who is that who moves behind 

In silence, hidden and so high

Who in secret seeks to spy
From smoke and mirrors and shadows nigh

Who makes their wishes known
As they tap on golden curtains

That cover and disguise

                      ~~~~~

I for one am tired from watching far too long
This strutting wild parade that’s going on and on and on
My feet are wet and caked in dirt
My shoes stuck fast in paint
I'm covered in confetti clumps
Of worthless shredded crepe

When I turn to walk away
From all the bogey faces
My pockets feel that they‘ve been picked
My shoes are mired in the slick

Then at last I stop to think

And I know I’ve lost the way  

I realize my job is gone

And my mortgage I can’t pay

©   9/29/08

Sandy Hartman