Collaboration Is knocked out of us Systematically In the school system Filling us up instead With competition And greed Perfecting us As the ideal consumers The perfect wheels in the Machine Those who hold the levers Know Collaboration Could bring them down
If you liked this poem check out my novel – the theme of this poem is the central theme of the book – see below.
Mankind Limited
Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.
Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.
Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.
On one level this is a story about how different people react to the ever-growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.
At another level, it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.
Pink A delicate shade Of colour Hijacked By toy makers and marketers To smash young minds Into shape And conformity Give it back To salmon And cold autumn evenings To flushed skin And lips And artists And leather bound books And bank notes And fresh ink Pink
So the soldier walks alone beneath the starry night He has no aim but distance from the bloody fight But the war it still pursues him snapping at his heels He slips into the forest deep beyond those broken hills
O glory days Those glory days They’ve shattered and they fade They only left a rumour A shadow where they laid
So the sword is silenced with a deep and lasting chill In his heart, the war goes on the beating never still Behind the hallowed orders that laid so many low Is revealed the empty truth the sickest, cruellest blow
O glory days Those glory days They’re gone they never were So the soldier walks away from guilt that he defers
So it seems to me that beyond the news Beyond the web of the media spin There are places still where the only views Are battlegrounds full of unearthly din
I see the most pious places burning Where the holy words still hold high accord Where simple souls for peace are still yearning The peace that those holy words won’t afford
Yet here where reason and science abound We live comfy lives secure in our ways No bombs rain down on our manicured ground There is no revolt, no passion ablaze
There’s something wrong with this picture I see Is it really this way, can you tell me?
One lumen The light of a candle It can be seen they say For many miles Candles burn tonight One for each lost angel Light that will been seen over many years Still bright in our minds A million candles A fiery sun of bittersweet memories The burning potential Of lives that never were
They trickle in The protesters, the bitter, the dispossessed, the poor They swirl in slow currents Exchanging thoughts, views, ideas. An oasis for the outcasts
The Man sits by the pool And fishes Taking what he needs Watching the rest
All around me Lies The ruins of young Dreams Away from me hope Flies Bursting at the Seams So where to go Now The truth has been Exposed When you don’t know How To let go what you Supposed Find a new path to Walk Step up to the Task Start the do and stop the Talk Start the make and stop the Ask Man up and face the Truth You’ve faced worse and Survived You’re longer in the tooth Time to come Alive
Space. It stretched out before him – endless, dark, enticing. The stars were faint and blurry through the thick glass view port, moving in a slow arc across his vision.
He could feel the endless nothing all around, calling to his soul, a siren’s whisper.
Float with us. Float with us forever! Float and forget.
The dark song was as endless as dreams.
He shook his head, fighting off the draining sensation.
He needed to concentrate.
He turned away to look out the only other viewport.
This one was dominated by the dark shadow of the dead ship. It was only visible against the deeper blackness due to the fading embers of molten metal fragments of its destruction.
They too fade from sight to and die.
Like everyone inside.
He shivered.
Looking out that viewport was hurting his neck. He faced forward again. He was too cramped. He could only move his head left and right and his arms enough to use the control by his hands and the keyboards before him.
He was stuck.
Daydreams had led him here – he couldn’t let them end him here.
A beep from the computer brought his senses back to proper alertness.
It had started. The attacks were coming.
He had anticipated it, though not so quickly and not all at once.
Float….
Concentrate!
“Update”, he commanded.
The computer’s calm voice responded.
“Interceptors are on the way they will arrive in precisely 623 seconds.”
“They must be responding to the distress call from the prison,” he muttered.
“That would seem a high probability.”
Dammit! He hadn’t been able to cut that off in time.
The computer went on.
“We should send our own distress call, they will be equipped to rescue you.”
“Do not!” he commanded. “Keep radio silence!”
“Affirmative.”
They were not only equipped for rescue. They were heavily armed. Once they learned the truth – and very soon they would – weapons would their first response.
“And our firewall?” he queried.
“The outer defence has been breached but the systems have not yet been compromised.”
That wouldn’t last much longer. The authorities were suspicious already – the presence of such a strong firewall did not to allay those suspicions – so they were hitting the firewall with the best they had.
“And my program?”
“Approximately 800 seconds to completion.”
Not enough time!
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. There was too much at stake here to fail.
He needed more time.
“Instigate firewall program 42!”
The computer complied and ran the program for him. That would keep the cyber attacks at bay for a little longer.
He shook his head. He had the nagging feeling that this was all just too fantastic!
Only a year ago the only thing he did on a computer was check social media and chat! Spaceships were a thing of science-fiction! Now here he was a master programmer and a fugitive from the authorities flying in space. It all seemed too unreal.
It was the stress of the situation he told himself and he could not afford to be distracted by it.
Besides he wasn’t actually flying a spaceship right now. He was drifting in what was little more than an escape pod.
But the ship he had escaped from was real. As were those bearing down on him. And these were not the only truths he had discovered lately.
He looked at the countdown on the program he was running.
“OK,” he told the computer, “prepare a distress call. But inject the virus I prepared.”
“That is against regulations,” the computer informed him. He barked an override code at it and it proceeded to prepare the distress call.
It was amazing what you could learn in prison. Hacking, override codes. The truth about the universe out there.
Putting him in prison had been their mistake.
Daydreams and curiosity had led him to that prison. he asked too many questions and that had got him into trouble at work and with the Government. That alone would probably not have condemned him but he had also an inventive streak. And a paranoid one.
When they hauled him for questioning he had snuck in a crude listening device.
It had not worked very well but he had caught snippets of conversation.
“He seems immune..”
“Is he any harm though?”
“ … control … inherited or just a ….. “
“He is a dreamer, not a revolutionary.”
“There we go then. We make him a believer…”
Unfortunately, the listening device was discovered – and that sealed his fate. He was shipped off to a deep space prison ship.
A deep space prison ship! One day he was in a world where the space shuttle was the most sophisticated space vehicle man had created and smartphones where the best man seemed to be able to achieve – the next he was in a world of spaceships – and space police!
It was a culture shock, to say the least.
He was dumped into prison and forgotten.
And that was the strangest thing of all. In prison, he flourished.
On earth – in his old life he had been Mr Average Joe to a T. Prison should have broken him. Yet he found that he had more freedom stuck on this ship than ever before.
He learned the truth for one thing.
There existed on earth (and space) a super élite far above anything anyone even suspected existed. They had science and wealth beyond the imagination of most people.
The rests of the population were kept in drug-induced ignorance. Cattle whose sole purpose was to provide this élite with their lifestyle.
Knowledge seemed to flow freely in prison and he absorbed it all. He learnt to program and how to hack computers.
He had vowed to expose the truth and free the world.
So he had concocted his escape. It had cost him the lives of everyone on that ship – and probably his own life too but he didn’t care.
He was filled with fury. He wanted to free the enslaved population of the human race for sure. What he wanted more though was to see the smug bastards who ruled them get their just deserts.
“Distress call is ready to send.”
He nodded, he was about to tell the computer to send it when it preempted him.
“New contacts.”
“What?”
“There are two more ships, coming in from the direction of Saturn.”
“More interceptors?”
“No. They bear all the signs of space pirates?”
Space pirates? Pirates? How could pirates exist? That would imply ….
He shook his head. There were too many questions threatening to distract him. He had to concentrate.
“Program completion has been suspended.” the computer announced.
What!?
He flung his fingers at the keyboard and dove into code. They had not yet got full control but they managed to stop his program.
Which implied they knew or guessed what he was doing.
He glanced at the other screen. The pirates would get here quicker than the interceptors! And they would shoot first!
He didn’t hesitate now. He called up his virus and made a few changes, then he told the computer to prepare it again and send it.
Then he dove back in and started a counterattack against the hackers. He managed to regain control and get his program running again. He then spent the next few minutes both fighting the hackers off and keeping his exit channels open.
While he did this he also watched as his virus took hold of the interceptors and turned them towards the pirates. They would be forced to fight each other for a bit.
The program was also done. The hackers came on in full force. He struggled to hold them back.
A fireball briefly bloomed in space. All the pirate ships and interceptors signals went dead. They had destroyed each other.
Almost there.
Now the hackers could see the program running even if they couldn’t stop it yet.
A signal flickered back to life on the screen
One interceptor had survived.
It was closing in, weapons charged.
Almost.
“Program completed!” the computer announced.
“Run it!” he shouted.
He watched the screen as the truth – all the truth – was sent out to every single person on earth.
The lies were exposed.
Come now, float with us…
No!
The interceptor would be in range soon.
He breathed easier.
He had done as much as he could for the world. Now he had to look to his own survival.
He was stranded in space, with limited resources and little time. Air and supplies running out and no hope of rescue.
After the years and years of confinement, he welcomed the challenge – relished it.
“Now this,” he said, with an almost feral grin, “is living!”
Keep them on the verge Of being panicked Keep them unsure And afraid Whip them into a frenzy Then collect the coin they make Prod them where you need them to go
The purr of the projector Warm popcorn scent Dust motes dancing in the light Deep, dusty heavy red drapes Mumbles and fumbles in the shadows Hand brushing hand by chance Close, sweet breath and perfume The excitement of the old silver screen
The roots of the trees are deep In the deep of the old old forest Digging in the dirt, drinking in the earth Long are the memories The past seeping slowly from Root to trunk to branch to leaf Contemplating Ripped up. Houses built.
We are blind to the truth Everyday Suffering goes on And we deny it all Unable to find a way Through the maze of our modern lives To a place where we can be ourselves And hold out that hand that helps our neighbour
Instead we clench our hand in a tight fist Holding tight onto what we have gained Not seeing what we are losing What slips away from our grasp Diminishing our souls Focused on our goals With such passion That we are simply Blind
Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes, sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.
If nothing else – these can provide a small moment in everyone’s stressful lives to stop and contemplate the world in a different way.
We have handed over our passport Battered down the hatches In a siege of our own designing Some feeling smug justification Others wondering if they should have done more All responsible All of us Remember this Huddled behind our walls When the hunger strikes
Fortune favours the bold Risk equals success People stop seeing risk And hand over their cash Their time Their labour Their lives The minority shine The majority are mesmerised While they fall
Deep bright purple star. Piercing from the depths of roiling blue gas clouds And a million billion stars Outshining Venus and Mars Swathes like silver paths Some gathered in spiral wheels And between them in the sparse dark spaces Ships blink and travel on by. A memory from the deepest well of childhood. A memory that could not have been.
I cannot believe this! If anyone were to stop them, this mob of hungry hunters raging through the forest, then nobody would believe the explanation.
The people of the village, the county planners, the farmers, the surveyors, the members of the RSPB, all are hunting in the night. They are hunting the Green Wizard.
What will they do when they catch him? The question fills me with fear.
What will he do?
I feel responsible. It was my decision. I weighed up all the considerations and reached the verdict.
Whatever choice I made would be opposed. The conservationists urged me to leave the forest alone. Those who favoured progress wanted the forest managed and great tracts of it grubbed out for profit.
I should be used to this. I was brought up in the country and we learned to live with threats.
And I had made this kind of decision for years now. I was used to angry crowds. How could they know that I felt their anger and pain? I always found the best compromise.
Unfortunately, this often hurt the countryside.
What had gone wrong this time?
The Green Wizard, that was what. Ever since I set eyes on him I have sailed seas of madness and now dragged the entire community with me.
Last night I saw him. I was wandering in the evening light near the edges of the forest trying to make my decision. I wasn’t sure that this old forest would benefit or even survive having its heart grubbed out. But the village that nestled twinkling below the forest needed fresh hope. The industry this would bring might make a crucial difference.
Then I saw it! A green light bobbing between the trees. At first, I thought it was a firework for it had that bright magical quality. It was an artificial green like the glass baubles of a Christmas tree. It drew my heart towards it.
I walked in, my fear disappearing as I entered the solace and safety of the trees.
Darkness fell completely as the sun sank but the green light bobbed before me and led the way.
It must be a willow-the-wisp I half told myself but its beauty was far too potent to resist.
I came to a clearing and then I saw that the light was a flame flickering on top of a staff held by an old man. He was dressed in a green robe that shone as bright as the flame, with the same entrancing shade. He looked the way that all wizards look in storybooks. Wide-brimmed, pointed hat, long beard.
Only his beard was green. He was the Green Wizard.
He beckoned me towards him but when I got a few feet he held up his hand and I felt a force block me. I felt the full potential of his strength in that strange touch. He could have crushed me with a thought.
“The forest must not die.”
His voice was deep and strong, trusty as oak and full of command!
I nodded.
“There is life here,” he went on, “that is beyond the comprehension of your people. It is vital to the power of the earth in ways you cannot understand. It will not lie idle any longer. If you threaten, it will react.”
“Who are you?” my voice a scared noise in the sudden immensity and darkness of this forest.
“I am the life of this forest! I am the power of the earth!”
I nodded again.
“An agreement is reached!” he boomed. “If you break your bond your life will be forfeit.”
Suddenly something moved in the leaves. I whirled around and a fox bolted across the clearing. All around the clearing the bushes suddenly rustled and shook with life. I spun trying to see what made the noises. There was nothing.
It stopped. The only sound was my panting breath.
It was dark. The Green Wizard was gone.
I thought I had imagined him but I saw a flicker of green, like a warning, away in the trees.
I knew then what I had to do. I had made a bargain. My life was forfeit if I did not make the right decision now.
All my doubts of mad hallucinations disappeared then. The Green Wizard was real.
The next day those concerned gathered at the village hall and listened to my decision. It went badly. Not surprising.
I had some support. The conservationists were pleased with the verdict. Their precious forest would be left to its natural state.
But most of those gathered were businessmen and farmers whose livelihoods were at stake. They were not going to let some upstart in a suit take that away.
I lost my nerve. I couldn’t meet their arguments. Every reason I put forward for the conservation of the forest they pulled to pieces. I cursed the Green Wizard for abandoning me to this. Where was he now that I was fighting his battle?
Finally, I had nothing left. I declared that the forest would be saved. They would not relent. They wanted to know why I had made this decision when I had no argument to support it. They pushed and pushed me until I could stand it no longer.
I told them about the Green Wizard. I warned them of the danger.
The whole hall was silenced. Even my supporters looked at me, trying to fathom out the madness that appeared to have seized me.
Finally one of the farmers said it.
“He’s mad! Or on drugs!”
I bowed my head. Where was this going to lead?
“This is a farce!” said another voice but then everyone suddenly gasped and fell silent again.
I looked up.
There hovering in front of me was a small globe of bright green light!
I stared at it. What did it mean? It was obviously from the Wizard. It was his shade of green, vivid, unforgettable, alluring and dangerous like something was burning that should never have been set alight.
“Is this some sort of gimmick!?” said one of the farmers.
The globe of light rushed straight at him and knocked him off his feet in a shower of sparks. Then it stayed where it was, where it had hit him.
The farmer slid back across the floor and hit his head against the far wall with a crack. Blood flowed immediately. People rushed to his aid. Others turned to me.
“If he’s dead you had better pray that the police get here quick before we’re finished with you!”
They all suddenly looked ugly. I feared for my life and wondered if this is what the green Wizard had meant. Had I failed some kind of test? Had I been chosen to champion the forest and failed?
“Look!” A young girl was standing by the window pointing up to the forest. People stared out and piled from the hall. I followed.
There, high on the hill, the whole forest was alight from within with the strange green glow.
“It’s the Green Wizard,” I said.
“More likely some new age travellers who don’t want their peace disturbed by the idea of having to pay their way like the rest of us.”
At that point, the green globe suddenly shot out of the window, through the glass without breaking it. At impossible speed, it shot into the heart of the forest.
By now people were muttering things about ghosts and UFO’s but the main core of farmers and businessmen were having none of it. They decided to go and find out for themselves.
I followed the frenzied crowd that raced up the hill to the entrance of the forest. I felt drawn, whether by them or the forest I don’t know.
At the entrance stood the Wizard. Tall and menacing but only I had felt the touch of his power.
“Do not touch this forest,” he said but he sounded somehow weary.
“Who the hell are you?” someone called out.
“He’s the Green Wizard,” I replied feebly but was ignored.
“You can’t tell us what to do with our forest!” someone else yelled at the figure.
“We don’t need freaks like you dossing on our land.”
“If you want to remove me then you will have to catch me!” he sneered. With that, he turned and disappeared quickly into the trees. The flame of his staff was still visible.
With a yell the villagers set after him. they became a pack of hungry wolves after their prey. Their eyes burned with fury.
I yelled after them, warning them not to go. They did not listen. Helpless I followed in their wake.
They crashed through the trees and the undergrowth picking up sticks and waving them as they went.
And even now as I follow them I find it hard to believe.
I fear the outcome of this but I am not sure who I fear for most. This horde is wild and out of control. If they catch him I would not be surprised if they tore him limb from limb with their bare hands.
But I have felt the power of the Green Wizard.
Suddenly we are before him. There he stands. Like an old man, weary with the chase, leaning on his staff in the middle of the clearing.
The mob grab him. Their fury somewhat dampened by his appearance but not quenched. They bind him. The rope is tight around his arms but he does not struggle. As the villagers dance around him like demented witches he holds my gaze with an accusing stare.
The dancing goes on and on like a frenzy but slowly people drop. They sit and lie on the ground, tired by the night’s activity. Despite the Wizard’s relentless stare I too sink to the ground. Around me, people are falling asleep and I find I cannot resist the need to join them.
I awake to find myself choking. Something has hold of my throat and is strangling me. I can’t breathe.
All around me are bodies. All held by tree roots or thorny vines! Some struggle feebly for others it is too late. Many are being dragged into the earth by the irresistible power of trees.
The Green Wizard stands watching the process with a blank expression. His ropes lay on the ground, snapped and frayed.
He turns his back on me, not even deigning to notice my dying breath.
What ifs hang on Like poisoned barbs Even in the face of reality All reason tells you Let them go Rip them from the flesh Yet deep they go Sharp their points Beyond the anaesthetic Of mere words So rise up From the river Of doubt Rip that flesh and bleed Step on the shore of tomorrow Healing first needs hurt
I think I have broken my toe But I am just too tired to know Stubbed it on a childproof gate Too tired to see it until too late But the pain and the weariness melt away Into warmth when you hear them say Dadda and they give you a smile That gives you the strength for the next mile
The world clashes with me Or I with it Its movie reel passes before me And I watch Observe But I am not of it Occasionally It brushes me Pricks me Interrupts my view My observations And the things I should enjoy I don’t Until I can observe them Again one day My moments pass Slipping I can never seem To be in them
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 