No Paper Week!

This may be more of a rant then anything else but, what is with the media these days?  Are we living in communist Russia or Nazi Germany or what?  It is filled with two things, either fluff pieces that let us know what z-list celebs are up to with the millions of £'s they acquired doing nothing but letting the country see how brain dead they really are.  Then there is the stories that try to scare us into submission - well, they are there to scare us but I can't say with certainty that they are there to scare us into submission.  Keep in mind that this is just a commentary of my opinions and nothing else.  People love the tabloid press and they can say and print anything they want as long as it is true.  That's what freedom of the press is all about.  We should not trust them unreservedly though, we should question them every step of the way.  Not just about whether a story is true or not, but whether it is of any value to us.  For instance, prior to Lady Di being killed in that tunnel in Paris, the public ate up any story and photography of her that was published.  It had no bearing on our lives and in most cases, it was an infringement of her and whomever she was with's privacy.  But it was the paparazzi that killed her when they chased the car into the tunnel to get that all important picture.  The next day when the news was plastered on the front of every paper (I say paper because in my opinion, tabloids are not 'newspapers') people ran out to buy the 'paper' and in some cases, several different papers.  They cried and laid flowers while they lined the pockets of the men and women that killed her.  No one stopped to think, maybe if we stop buying this papers, maybe they will start reporting the news.  We continue to buy and absorb the crap that is printed and broadcast on a daily basis because we want to be informed.  Are we informed though?

It is a shame that we put so much trust in the media to tell us what we need to know and they can't even get the weather right 50% of the time.  We turn celebrities into gods that seem to be able to get away with anything and in some cases everything.  Why do we trust people just because they are on T.V. or in the movies?  We complain about our politicians but we vote them in, time and time again.  In this age of the internet, we seem to have all the answers at our fingertips, but can we trust it?  I wish I had the answers, but I don't and neither does Google or Wikipedia. But all I can say, is that we really need to start questioning the media again.  We need to hold the media accountable for what is printed and what isn't.  Do we really need to know what celebrities are wearing?  or do we need to know if our drinking water is safe?

What is possibly more important to know is, are our politicians telling us the truth? Are we going to war again because we have to make the world safe or are we going to war to make sure their profits are safe?  We seem to be so inundated with crap, that we don't get the real news.  Could this be why we are so apathetic?  We don't protest en mass any more, yet we are more connected then ever with social media.  We dump buckets of ice water over our heads and think we are doing our part, but we don't really stop to think about what we are doing.

It is a small protest, but it can say so much to the media and our politicians if we stop buying the 'paper' - whichever one we actually buy (I'm not going to name any of them here because I don't want to give them any free publicity!) for one week.  If everyone does this, maybe they may get the point and print something that is worthwhile.  Get the word out, On October the first, 2014 until the 7th of October 2014 DON'T buy a paper.  If enough people do this, then the media will have to listen.

Thank you for reading and please, pass it on!  

Prism

There was a sunbeam

That carried through

The outer rim of the

Window pane.

The dew on the window

Creating a prism

That broke apart

The white light

Into colours

That sparkled on

The sill of

That very window.

A gathering of reds and blues and yellows

A rainbow gathering momentum

Along the window sill

And then beyond

As the sun drifts

Across the pane of glass

And the dew begins to shrink

Heated by the brightness

Of the sunbeam

And the colours

Disappear

Into nothingness.

The Summer Storm

The storm clouds were brewing
The summer heat built to boiling point
And the hot sticky feeling that is Southern Ontario
Caused nerve endings to spark blue murder
Sweat poured through me like maple syrup
Maybe that is why my clothes
Gripped my skin in a steamy, feverish, inferno.
But the clouds gathered slowly
In their various shapes and shades of grey,
Some even black and threatening
But the only true threat is that the clouds
would only pass right on by
without shedding any relief
Even making the heat grow more intense
More humid, hazy and stifling.
This heat slows your pace
But I stick it out underground
In my basement I stay
But with the first clap of thunder
Echoes through the air
I emerge from my midsummer hibernation
from this torridity I cannot bare
these furnace like conditions that stress me
to my very core and strip me of my humanity
For this I plead to you, oh god of thunder, Thor
Don’t tease me with the roar of static electricity
For my anticipation for this cloudburst
grows ever stronger within me
And then
It happened
A drop of moister hit my cheek 
Quickly followed by many
More in very quick succession
A torrent of dampness pelts me over and over
it dazzled my senses with the
Cool fluid sensation of ecstasy surrounded
And I held my hands up high above my head
And gave thanks for the water that soaked me through
Making the weather, all that more bearable. 

Used Book Shop Coffee

There is this bookshop in Belfast
That I go to sometimes
Especially when I don’t want
To be found
I sit in the back
Where the coffee shop is
Just a few old tables
A few game boards
A few pictures on the wall
Done by local artists that
Probably gave the store the
Picture for a cup of coffee
Be worth a million when they die
Now it’s only worth a cup of coffee
I don’t know about that though
The crazy old woman that runs
This place has no problem
Giving out free refills
Letting you pick the used books
Off the shelves, read them
Put them back and have another coffee.
She smokes thin long cigars
Coughs up a storm with every puff.
There were a couple of artist types
Sitting out in front on the patio
Discussing who was the better artist
They probably had to do a painting
For the old woman
So they could get a cup of coffee
Could even be that they get a few coffees
Every time they come in
But they might some of the soup
That is cooking on a hotplate
By the coffee machine
Great coffee though
I can’t get enough of it
But the soup is good too
I think in was potato and leek today
Could smell it before I even made it into
The store.
I bought a book there the other day
And it smelt like the soup
Some kind of split pea
I think
Couldn’t believe how hungry
It made me
Feel.

Wine

The red splashes forth

Like a tidal wave

As it pounds the

Bottom of the glass

Just off centre

It gathers height

Curling towards sides

Licking the curvature

As it slowly folder

Back to the clam

 Of the pool

As the waterfall

Ceases its deluge

Before the well

Can after flow

The tide is tipped

Slowly sipping

The flavour bursts

Drenching taste buds

Each on firing

With different flavours

From smoky, woodsy danger

To the smooth fruity

Of the purse, fresh grapes

Picked as for the gods

A nectar that releases

The emotions into another dimension

A seam state of escape

Away from the stresses of the day.

The Streetlight

I stand at my window at night
Second floor, facing the street
A streetlight illuminates
The corner across the street
I used to stand on that corner
Watching the world
Pass me by
It’s half three in the morning
And the corner just shines
Like a spotlight on a stage
But the stage was empty now
The actors were the passing crowds
Each with their own story
The light comes in
Through the window.