Public Domain Method for Impartial Non-Tamperable and Sound Judgements on All Qualitative Items

We have three types of jury

  1. The first deals with Classification of a work
  2. The second confirms or rejects the classification and says Yea or Nay to a work proceeding further to the third jury
  3. The third jury confirms the decisions of 1 and 2 juries, and adds a quality rating on the works which have survived the sift. From which contributor rewards are assessed

Jurors are:

  1. Global
  2. Never know to one another
  3. Use usernames only
  4. Dispersed scattered around the world
  5. In mixed demographics and social standings etc fields of knowledge
  6. They check checkboxes for fields of knowledge they wish to adjudicate on
  7. Juries are formed randomly of these jurors
  8. One jury is never the same composition of jurors as another
  9. Thus their decisions cannot be tampered with or unduly swayed
  10. They are secure from threats or persuasions
  11. They are paid in DCZ
  12. At first 9 per jury; thereafter 7 and at last 5 per jury
  13. As mass adjudications come I, Matthew’s algorithm processes stats on each juror
  14. Those jurors who are on the money stay; others less good or playing us are fired
  15. Thus we end up with 5 person juries of calibre
  16. I Matthew write a software tool for administering this global selection of  jurors
    1. Choosing each jury for each work fairly randomly (within expertises)
    2. Paying them in DCZ for their trouble
    3. Keeping them anonymous to protect them so and the work
    4. Stats on who is ace at the work; who poor. Filtering jurors
    5. Maintaining the pool of potential jurors (a dormant standing army)
    6. And so on

The power of the world wide web plus the acumen of a world of affictionadoes

from: Matthew Raymer and Peter Smith

The Disservice Economy and its Bad Goods; Fueling The Global Money Making Engine: 7

(I know this is a bit of a rant on my part. I still think it’s valuable for its statements albeit baldly of the dreadful states of affairs we are in so deeply so widespread, and made by us, across our world/Peter)

“Added Value”

‘Added Value’ is a phrase bandied around in Branding circles; amongst those who would Trade Mark their goods and services or else who are considering doing so and so are getting ‘advice’ either from government offices or from legal attorneys; these latter being those who shepherd rights such as Trade Mark rights through government offices to completion: registration.

“Added value” is a concept, given the words in which it is couched, which appears to be a positive and desirable thing to obtain – for anyone interested in or in the course of buying and/or selling.

“Added value” implies getting extra revenues or performance from something which otherwise, without it having had the value added, would have obtained less revenues or performance. But to us in doing business words are cheap and are frittered away like dud and toy monopoly money

Suckers as we are, we are lured, seduced by words; words like ‘GT’ or “Turbocharged’ or ‘All terrain’ or ‘Supertuned’ and so on for automobiles; or else words like ‘deluxe’ or ‘premium’ or ‘unmissable’ and so on for goods ranging from heaters to clothing. Services too are perhaps ‘Premier’ or else ‘Gold star’ or else ‘5 star’ and so on; almost as if everything on offer for sale is somehow a fantastic deal and so-so good.

Everything appears on the surface ‘the ideal solution’ or has a ‘lifetime guarantee’; from that mastic filler you bought to temporarily stop a water leak in your bathroom, and which is never up to the job its advertising maintains it is ‘fantastic at doing’; and right to that ‘bag for life’ which the supermarket sold you which collapses on the way to the house strewing your shopping across the street and gutters.

It’s like we have a disconnect; that words no longer pledge anything to us in product descriptions and trader pledges. We have been ‘educated’ to just shrug and to throw the thing away and get another; happy to expect this other to go the same way as the former. Or else just to pass on our losses to the next unsuspecting shopper. I saw one guy write in a forum about a dud Sky Remote Control he’d bought ‘off the bay’ saying: ‘Oh, well, back on the bay for a fiver with it’!

A not so merry go round of pass the buck in a parcel to the next walk in shopper. I did some work a few years back on counterfeiters and statistics online on sales at a few big popular sales sites. I was analysing user-feedback on turkeys shoppers been sold as pups. A good percentage of people who received what was sheer junk for their money; items which often were reported by their purchasers as ‘falling apart in my hands’ or ‘it broke after a day’s use’; they chalked the losses down to experience, chucked the junk into landfill via their local council refuse collectors, and made zero attempt to obtain refunds or to call to account the sellers in any way.

In peddling this junk, most of which was imported in bulk by the sellers from less rich less developed nations, whereabouts to earn a crust in any way that is possible is acceptable and necessary for so many people thereabouts (and herein lies the only true value in the manufacture, shipping and sale of much of what they produce) – the online sellers, the retailers were reaping a great deal of ‘added value’ from their products; but not the sort of added value which governments like to praise and to promulgate in their speeches and policies – so they would have us believe.

In order to feed and shelter millions of people who are borderline in poverty across the world; it seems that our economic systems ares et up so as to manufacture, ship halfway across the world, and sell as under false pretences as being ‘bargain’ goods to affluent nations’ shoppers, a million and one containers a week of wasted minerals and other scarce resources, and many persons’ honest but wasted labours, the building of container ships and their running and maintenance, the pollution and species detriment all this causes, then there is the online setup and retailing premises, and in the first world, warehouses and storage, import and export duties and officers etc, postage charges, delivery by couriers in vans running everywhere and so on; all this, simply to get a few pennies of a dollar to poor people to live on and to subsist barely in relatively poor areas of the world.

One should be happy I should think, that this great rigmarole does have this single laudable end result; because our economic systems were and remain set up to do nothing of the sort; anathema indeed!

But yet pretty much the same convoluted logic and scamming thing is going on, being generated, here at home in sixth richest nation Britain. The differences are that it’s all above board here; a trader or manufacturer in Britain (it’s probably the same in USA) is able to rake in extra cash – ‘added value’ – lawfully by using pretty much similar tactics to the counterfeiters; but of course dressing up the unlawful mutton as lawful lamb.

The dummies remain the consumers – as in all these legal scam exercises, these wheezes dreamed up by the fly boys in charge – it is the consumer who pays and whereat the buck stops every time; and I do believe our National Lottery and the masses of betting shops – one at every street corner in all lower class districts – and then the online casinos aimed at bored housewives and at over-sanguine punters – all these are great sources of revenue for our government – all these voluntary taxes on an ignorant undereducated lower class sets of persons – are nothing less than the apotheosis,and epitome of consumerism as it works in our world here in the West, and maybe elsewhere and beyond my observations.

The lottery and other gambling merely cuts out a need to exchange something for money; instead a trade in gambling just begets income to the organisers, and their expenditure is only in maintaining their operations, and online there are not even premises to speak of to be maintained.

Great store is set by many of us here on the National Lottery Fund which helps to finance items of National Heritage or of Historic and Cultural Importance – a heritage and an importance of concern only to richer more educated people but not to those whose money is raked in and spent on the upkeep of opera, of historic sites; all of which by and large are pricing- out lower class people by their expense to visit, and these are places, venues also which the general run of visitors to them are well capable of maintaining and improving from their own pockets but, no, that would be just and fair but not politic nor acceptable to them, nor to their elected representatives.

By the way, many of these same well-heeled who would value culture and heritage are further mollified by governments subsidising their rail fares to work and back daily; many of whom have enough loose cash to run smart vehicles and own second homes in again priced-out exclusive villages in the ‘(rotten) Heart of England’.

Visitors come from abroad to Britain and many of their more decent types are appalled at the levels and the conspicuousness of the social cultural and educational disparities shown blatantly in almost every town and city here.

These Brand bandits who would ‘add value’ to their goods and services courtesy of the national government which maintains the (failed and longstanding) policy of encouraging business and trade massively, at the expense of more directly much more useful and social welfare areas, and then seeing its wealth generated NOT filtering down cascading into all order of society beneath it, as the theory insists against the facts that it does, and is doing. (Note this word “beneath” – our sense of priorities is invested wholly in this assumption that all other classes of society are lower down, “beneath”, the order of and the concerns and values of the business class.

The lawful wheeze is to trade mark your brand – simply that – it ‘adds value’. Not on its own maybe – add a thorough and saturated advertising campaign so as to give your brand name what? – all those adjectival superlatives which we listed in our beginnings above here – “superb”, “glorious”, “phantasmagorical!” etc etc, so as to establish the brand name by way of a much repeated and inane thrusting of it down the throats of a populace,it ever being presented accompanied by loud music flashy colors lots of hectic action and crowd-pleasingly going nowhere, and so on, and hereby a sort of familiarity cum legitimacy begins to accrue to the brand name, and so its goods and services just almost magnetically begin to be bought and so this brand grows into a sort of stupid kudos amongst a people, who, inured to having become consumerist bait and fodder for an industry, and economy, a nation set first and last on money making, are sorely beguiled.

You might have observed in your workplace how when a guy or girl your peer and equal gets a promotion at interview and is thereafter set over above you and your crowd, maybe as a manager or a person of authority; that lo!, inexplicably most of us are happy to fall in and so o set ourselves beneath the person lately promoted; and obey regardless, nor ever questioning why or whether we ought to.

This may not be particularly a phenomenon of note but for the fact that so many of the persons who obtain such promotions do really appear to be, at the least, rather questionable material for advancement. This is not sour grapes, nor envy nor jealousy. Rather it is observable that the persons who obtain promotion are those most likely to say ‘yes’ to anything so as to have obtained it, Thus the upper echelons at organisations become filled with persons having no self-integrity nor independence of thought or of action. And this is the reason why there is so much wastage and inefficiency and general jobsworth attitudes across industry and commerce here.

The very same is true of advertising. We just swallow it whole like an oyster or a gobstopper; and in no time we are singing the jingles and dancing the dance to the tune of millions in the bank for brands which have at a stroke ‘added value’. In fact they have merely persuaded us to pay more for the addition to an item of a name – a brand name. Some of us even wear their brand names on our clothing! On our kit. On our cars. We do their advertising for them and we think we’re cool having a flash on our car saying ‘castor oil’ or ‘exxo’.

I heard a guy talking on the radio the other days saying how advertising and polling companies, who process colossal amounts of data about common citizens’ habits to try to help influence the common people’s decisions and lifestyles; this guy told how he had employees going out and ‘chatting’ with people about their ‘families and children’ and what they feared and desired in these regards; and he said blandly that in this way ‘you can soon see what the average guy’s political views are and often which way they vote in elections etc’.  Thus these guys are out befriending ordinary people with a base ulterior motive of luring them into speaking from their hearts things valuable as dirty collateral lucre to their interlocutors. The radio speaker saw nothing wrong in doing this. Blind. Insensitive. Working people like puppets is AOK, eh?

And this is just one of a whole industry vast of technique and techniques with which to corral and to push us plain people here, there, wherever our ‘benefactor betters’ would have us be in their own interests.  This is how things work, nearly everywhere in our lives, and right now.

The ‘added value’ then is ever toward the brand owner, toward the maker and the seller; never to the man in the street Mr Joe Consumer and his lady friend. To this guy Mr Consumer the case is sheer ‘added cost’, for no tangible benefits, nor intangibles, sheer ‘added cost’ every time.

We really are herded like cattle; shunted like sheep to the abattoirs of the malls, where we are slaughtered in our purses and pursuits; and made suppers of in our utterly entrapped and inability to see beyond an all pervading miasma of consume, consume, consume.

One final complaint. Our consumerism is destroying the planet and thereby it is destroying we ourselves. We hear ‘concerned noises’ from the press and media every now and again about plastics in the oceans, landfill, nuclear waste disposal, air pollution, water contamination, and water shortages, lots and lots of impending and impinging deteriorations and depredations of the environment and of resources and of health and of species and on and on and on.

Our governors, our so called betters, those misnomered ‘great and good’ do nothing – they might stick a tax on sugar in foods, and on tobacco, on plastic carriers, on drinks and all that; and claim thereby that they are doing something for the environment. What occurs is that sales in tobacco, drink, carriers, sugar drinks and foods plummet for a month, maybe two, but thereafter gently begin to level out to much the same levels previous to the taxes having been imposed. Everyone knows this scenario from their own personal experiences which have many such instances of these and like cases.

Direct attack, approach, right on the actual problems, are rare, and happen very very seldom; only when the effects of not doing anything for generations, have become overwhelmingly unpalatable for us, and disaster is knocking at the front doors of the governing, wealthy and leisured class.

Thus poor people can smoke and drink in excess; drink sugar and pay for carriers; the wealthy are fine with this in general – they are a class apart in both instances. “Thou hast committed fornication; but that was in another country and besides the wench is dead”

The wealthy are preparing for environmental disaster I’m pretty sure. Not in organised conspiracy together, but powerfully unified nonetheless by their badges and their tokens and their habitual required codes of behaviour which they have evolved so as to denote and identify themselves one to another as the top knobs who have ‘arrived’. There are plant banks and seed banks and other ‘precautions’ of similar purpose across the world and across the nations; bunkers – supposedly to save the ‘necessary’ in event of nuclear attacks etc – but also handy for the better-off to dive into and so take cover in an event of an environmental Perfect Storm. Why would they not? Just another instance of how we are their consumerist fodder and biddable herds, able to be, ready to be, ‘sacrificed’ when/if the time comes.

Nothing environmentally will be done of substance unless a) money can be made for clearing up our environmental acts of thuggery or b) the escape routes for the crème de la crème (aka the scum) are cut off or otherwise become suspect, and ill-boding events are encroaching and are imminent, immanent.

For something right on the button of the problems to be done would strike at the inmost arteries of the heart and so shed fatally the lifeblood of consumerism; and such an event is unthinkable for those big bad boys (and girls) who nurture us for fools. The governments know this too, and approve of the status quo, are a glad and willing part of the well-heeled status quo.

There are – contrary to the propaganda, the advertising, the complete thrust of all economic speech and life as we hear and experience it – alternatives to consumerism. It is not a hapless trap we have inadvertently set for ourselves and cannot now avoid. Such a line of thought is part of the propaganda. It can be stopped. Only all of us don’t want it to stop. We who are its victims are sold on it fake news of untruth and advertising lies, daily at every waking hour, the general message being that all in the garden is rosy and that we have to keep producing, selling, buying, to keep things cosy rosy.

This is THE BIG LIE. There are other ways of life in which we can live more sanely and happily and just as securely and comfortably. They do not involve a wanton rape of the planet; nor a psychic persuasive dominion over ordinary people. Some few involve a more true freedom and individuality (‘individuality’ of person being yet another cyber-myth’ of our shaded economic unreality) for all people. (How many fashions are designedly, surreptitiously, and cunningly, created by people paid to influence us and who are working for economic generators of goods, services and propagandas? How we are told we are ‘individuals’, and we in fact like a massive bunch of bananas in a monkey’s hands)

We are unaware of these better and other ways of life and living because systematically we have been coached out of them and led to believe things convenient for our belief and so we are in large part unable to see a way out, even were we to begin to desire one. Our education system openly boasts its purpose is to provide young and other people with skills for the workplace and the marketplaces. To suit employers needs etc etc. No exit. Cul de sac.

Even my son who is not greatly experienced and who has observed life in a few short years he has had so far of adult life, he independently has come to conclusions close to some of mine here as being his thoughts on life in general.

I would go so far as to conclude that the persons who aspire to ride up the ladder in life as we live right now, are aspiring unaccountably and without their knowing it, to having others in large part living their lives for them; them thinking to have all their time as leisure time or with a few short intervals for directing those others living their lives for them.

Further we have returned to a Pagan Pantheon of gods whom we admire and do praise to. Our Marvel hero movies and our screen and stage goddesses, singers and what have you, sports men and women, the movies and games of graphic carnage and conflict and of wars of deceits and wiles and sheer betrayals, of peripatetic turnarounds and sudden continuous switchbacks, all is a general degeneration into an adulation and worship of power at work within a general theatre of chaos. All its prominent role models in art are all the types of Pagan Pantheon gods; doing, acting, living as if larger than life lives for the impress of the common person; whose aspirations these monsters inspire. They are the reflections of  the ethos of those who control things.

All is a mock-up of life, of a way of life we moved forwards from thousands of years ago, but which has now come again, retrograde and in a dark time, and in a time when its homage will add to our distress and worsen our downfalls.

Truth remains, and will do so ever; it is only we, the untrue, who shall dissipate away.

Contradictions

Contradictions let them stay

Don’t think to reason them away

They are our Meatloaf, heavy metal

They are our carving irons and kettle

 

Salute their nightlight bright obscurities

Adore their sagacious efficacious absurdities

Amours, allures, propellers of sweet life

Of a sharper blade than any Bowie knife

 

There on a ledge a pledge tiptoes peep over

Empty abyss, a single kiss, a hand picks clover,

An emblem reminder, a controversial wonder

Hallmark of hung conundrums we live under

 

Levelling out the polkadotty mottled surface

Of oddities does no person general service

Elated, grateful, let them feather, fly, display, and go

Happy in seeing, and thinking not to know

 

Your need for carbuncles rumpling head’s sunk inner tube

So as to fit up the factoids as a standard rule

A ready rough measure, support against extremity

And something to savour, delectate; pure vanity

 

So severs the helix lacerates its thread

So as to magnify crown an encephalic head

To stand upon perfect proofs apropos; albeit sped

On blurted certitudes

 

Too fulsomely tootyfruity to sustain recount;

Even the laid out surface of this circlet wound about

The gladsome globe itself returns as object and a ground

Of vol-au-vent temerity, grand surveys it confounds

 

College is power say know by rote affiliations

Sanity dwells in paradigm-design white coats

Shored on a sore assurance; pregnant learning floats

Like continents

 

Passing into and passing from is all, and all things flow

Cardboard Canutes stood sentinel, en guard would seemly trow

Being known as knowing like an elevated upstarts crow

Interrupters of the tides, or rather make the show

 

Here can be knowledge unforgiving, ineffaceable

Unfaceable although traceable to Eden’s mortal sin

Fear of the fire inspires desires for fatal instruments

Which fire, it sires, engenders

 

Know what we know is nothing; insignificance

Salted and peppered, trussed up with impediments

Placed so to baste amongst a stew, as savour added

To a flimsy dish of pickled fish, is also known as – you

 

When all the razz is over, a pooped pavolva, bimbo’s donkey derby done

When we agree, unanimously, absolute exception none

Then we shall see, and ubiquitously, no palaver, nor yet conundrum

Everything, and that what is true lives, everything, in The Son

The Russian Gas

Let’s trace the ‘function’ of the National News Media. In my estimation the National News Media can be treated of, in regard to its function, in one generalised sweep.

The question of function can be asked as the question: ‘What does it do?’

I want to make a case, and I think it a very sound case, for saying that the National News Media is doing at best a job of maintaining outlooks and bolstering a sense of solidarity of outlook and attitudes amongst the British peoples.

t worst I believe it is an ineffectual thing and mostly fatuous. For a person not engaged in its milieu, the melee, the morass of ‘current affairs’ and so for a being  who is not ‘following events’; that is to say, from an outsider’s perspective; the National News Media looks like this.

What is its character?

Current affairs and events, which are the bread and butter of all news media, by definition and intrinsically arise in the present and fall away in the present; and betweentimes they are news but beforehand of course, and especially afterwards they are not news; afterwards they are yesterday’s news; which proverbially nobody wants from a news media source.

It follows then that News presentations to the public are ‘rolling stories’ which break, peak, and fading diminish – in interest, in consideration, in newsworthiness.  Rather than this rolling news being like a planet which orbits around another heavenly body, and so brings in the seasons and night and day and a great number of other regularities, being events which repeat themselves and which repeat themselves always in the same sequence; instead Rolling News is like a Space Probe sent out from earth and has been set on a trajectory by which eventually it leaves the Solar System altogether and goes on, indefinitely, into ever new territory, ever signalling back to earth data which is new and novel to people here.

This ever-new territory is able to provide such continuous and unique data because of what we call time is ever-passing from the present into future-presents; and actual particular events arriving are thus ever new and novel, in fact their arrival into presence brings anew a flow of new presents into existence, bearing things not seen or heard of ever before.  I am speaking here about our common human experience of the uniqueness of being and of each our own life experiences in living a life. In this sense even returning seasons are new and novel; but only by virtue of them coming and presenting in slightly different manifestations year on year. The cycle of the seasons otherwise is predictable and expected to occur by us; so that a headline such as ‘We had little rain in July’ is not newsworthy.

The present is ever with us as an ever-being-realised future which is expiring. Thus time in this sense is linear, just as news is in our experience.

So as we have said, events are very difficult in fact to predict, and so they often take us by surprise and so they have a sensationalist value to them; and also because they are revelations to us of unsuspected things they have an attraction for us in no small amount based on a surreptitious and salacious inquisitiveness of appetite.

News in fact can become a habit; and people can become news junkies. The popular magazines which carry a degraded form of news make little pretence that they are about gossip and sensationalism and about having ‘peeps’ into people of interest’s living rooms and bedrooms etc. In this regard they are merely the News Media taken to a further level of habit.

Thus things come and go as news in a linear fashion. And people can become hooked, junkies of news stories. Especially so I believe those persons who present to us our news; the journalists and TV and Radio presenters and newsreaders etc are clearly near all of them mainlining on news and its discussion.

News presentation then is subject to hype; as if very often it was merely another form of dramatic entertainment. Think of the obsessive music which prefaces news bulletins each hour on BBC News Channel on TV. Its effect is cumulative and it draws in one’s attention ever more deeply as it goes on; and with that ticking clock counting down the seconds to O’clock, which is also on screen whilst this music is pulsing in one’s head; there can be little doubt that news is being treated as if it were drama.

Furthermore, at the hour a loud chime of Big Ben sounds, together with some ‘momentous’ drum thumps, as a newsreader reads out almost shouting, a headline before another great BOINGGG! and then drum thumps and the next headline read out.

Think of news stories being offered to you without all this rigmarole; no short clips of various flack jacketed reporters in war zones across the world; or in a flood somewhere or at an explosion elsewhere: what would we have left were there no hyped build ups? Not much.  Nothing much to write home about.

So the presentation feeds expectation, anticipation, excitement, drama, the whole shooting match of rhetoric is applied with some force.

Yet as we have said; all this rigmarole is for literally ‘a creature of a day’; that news story which is buzzing and hot right now but which within a week will be cold toast.

What is going on: how can a story be so vitally important one day and then a few days down the line dead news?

Why the fuss; why the earnest 24/7 dramatised presentations; where is the purpose in it all?

Further when a person considers soberly what he or she is able to do about any situation suddenly arisen as say a National crisis or a fearful disaster; apart from staying indoors whenever it is likely to be affecting people around the hometown?  As for quelling it or opposing it or doing anything to abate its course on one’s own; very little if anything can be achieved.

Also, given that many initial reports of such breaking news items of horrors are confused and scanty; their information not very reliable, such considerations compound one’s innate impotence to do anything constructive on one’s own.

News of some (not really too) bad weather last week here stripped the shops of sugar, milk and several other basic commodities. A few days below zero with some snow panicked a Nation into hoarding groceries and fuel etc.  In many ways it would have been better for the News channels not to have hyped this pretty tame pet rabbit weather, and everyone still got sugar in the tea and milk.

At the moment we have a story going through the mill being ground up into digestible matter the news about the Russians and the poisoning of ex spies by nerve gas exposures etc.  I have heard no evidence that Russia was responsible, other than it was a Russian nerve gas which was involved. Nothing, not a sausage other than this has been broadcast; yet to all intents and purposes no-one on the TV and in most of the nation doubts but the Russians did it.  Trial and conviction without jury; a metaphorical lynching

What appears to be happening with this story; and it is a commonplace occurrence with stories concerning government and outrages occurring on British sovereign soil; the focus of the story, which has ever been only hesitantly on the victims of the nerve gas, has now altogether shifted so as for it to be about the ‘outrage’ of the Russian’s audacity to have done such a thing on Sovereign British soil.  Like Lady Macbeth at King Duncan’s death being discovered, our Prime Minister and her cohorts are screaming loudly in concert as chief and first response ‘What, in our house!”

The furore going on is on the boil about Russia. It is necessary for the politicians the ruler governors that it goes on and is broadcast and written about across the nation as often as possible, for the time being. Its being bruited violently abroad like this is I do believe so as to be sheer ‘window dressings’  and as such all part and parcel of those drums thumping and that BOINGG! going on.  Like Shakespeare’s Hamlet the government is at ‘unpacking its heart like a whore’ by screaming ‘foul play in our backyard’ from the rooftops; and it feels it needs to be seen to be doing this by the British Nation. This is the government’s ‘adequate response’ to this fancied ‘outrage’.

This is a purpose the News Media serves; of showing the British peoples by way of arms waving in wild gesticulation, that the government is busy, is on the case, and governing.

It is not that almost embarrassing ‘ultimatum’ given by our government to Russia to ‘explain’; nor is it the kicking-out of 20 or more diplomats from the London Embassy and flown back to Russia; nor is it in fact the posturing and the fancy footwork and the dramatic role play and this rhetoric bandied about like sweeties at a kid’s party; none of this is important to Russia, nor to our government as an actual response towards Russia; but it is all done to be of purpose ‘smokes and mirrors’ for the benefit of home consumption.  It is all ‘retaliation being seen to be done’ by we British News freaks.

Such an approach secures the government its position as government in the eyes of the Nation. It also in large part is a handling of this affair by a government bankrupt of ability, and of measures to respond to Russia adequately, and of any daring or nerve to respond adequately, had a real response been possible.

It is, has been, will be conducted by government as it being a Perfect Storm – in a teacup.  The whole art of government in Britain now is descended into such shows and pageants; just as it has done so in USA.  I do believe that many people who have found themselves in government have no beliefs; I mean not beliefs in free markets or productivity – there’s far too much of that; but beliefs in life values, life goals, life purpose.

Thus they find themselves ‘like sheep gone astray’ and so they know that they are unable to formulate a proper a considered and adequate and effectual response or stance on these issues arising. In short they are floundering; and they feel and know that they are.

These beliefs are what our Nation is in lack of; hence its obsession with rolling news and rolling magazine gossip and rolling soaps and rolling reality shows; glued wholly to what is current and totally at sea with anything not ‘in vogue’.

In Britain these days one is not able to go to the toilet in a store facility without one having the store radio station throwing music at you and offering you bargains right now in store whilst you relieve yourself. So much do we demand and supply constant rubbish activity, and stuffs to pad out and so engage any stray consciousness we might use to raise a query about our lives. The scenario reminded me never so much of anything as it did of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and of the prescience of Douglas Adams.

I do believe, us having no beliefs, we are afraid to allow the music to stop. for the music to stop would signify to us a Hawking-like Black Hole into which we fear falling.  Like Hawking’s Black Holes though; the fear and the event of falling are fictions we fear are truths

The situation is as though we had been transported to an island called the present; divorced from the past and separated from the future and we subsist in our minds solely and wholly in one single dimension of time’s three dimensions. No escape. Not enough education. Too much nurturing people to become entrepreneurs, or to become vocational professionals, or to be mere hands in factories and in service provision.

News media and current affairs as they are right now are atrociously ridiculous. Right now day after day Radio and TV presenters politicians and governors of Britain speak in public and daily are showing their inadequacy to hold their positions in life; by way of the historical and other factual goofs they make regularly, habitually; by their lack of grasp of fairly straightforward English language; by their ideas and suggestions put as means to solve social or political problems; their farrago of errors is in part shameful to be witness to, and also it feels sadly wry and embarrassing to think on what the rest of Europe thinks of us.

A silly pretty insignificant nation talking above its strength and unable to pull rank or to flex muscle. I am glad of this – I don’t support us warring with other nations, not as aggressors as we have done in the last 20 or 30 years.  I am glad God has taken away our capacity to destroy so wantonly – we abused our capacity.

I do believe our government believes it is governing by way of the furores it makes on foreign policy and other issues. In actuality its response times and its take up of issues of import and urgency and so which are actually really pressing, is appallingly poor and is badly at sixes and sevens.

The Russians are able to mock our government and our government’s responses, and able to do so with absolute knowledge and certainty of complete impunity.  Russia, if it is indeed responsible for the nerve gassing of people on British soil, has offended so many of us, but not for the callous cynical murders and attempted murders, no, only for its cheek and presumption in having done so.  Thus our petty and facile natures are exposed like public laundry.

Today’s Tragedy

Just heard a programme on TV speaking about Ancient Greece and interpreting the events, mostly of Athenian history of the 5th century BC through the lens of the, mostly Athenian, drama.

The airing of such a programme presented for its narrator academics an absolutely Golden Opportunity to train that same lens on political and social activity here in Britain (and in the USA) as it is muddling on right now today.

It was a BBC programme; and the BBC has a charge, a duty, not written down but yet more imperative than are mere words, laid upon it by its position as the State Natoinal Broadcaster funded by the people. This charge, this duty being the welfare of the people it serves, and who are the source of its funding and the audiences of its services.

The learned Classical scholars extolled with some gusto and an amount of vicarious pride the allowance of The Athenian State to its dramatists and to its people as a whole (the citizens that is) a liberty of very broad freedom of speech. The learned scholars were at pains to point out the ways in which Athenian dramatists used this freedom of speech so as openly and before the very persons aimed at, so to castigate and rigorously criticise them as politicians, and also the social trends, the fashions and the moods and the actions and decisions of the Demos (the Athenian citizens as a body).

There followed a great deal of broad Athenian history, beginning at the Persian Wars and running down to the Pelopennesian War; and as this history and the programme went along the dramas (which we today have surviving from that time and that place) were referred to and related to those events and actions and attitudes.

All very well.

Here was a bunch of scholarly persons commenting and expanding on, even extolling Greek life, and in particular lauding this openness of Athenian Society of that age, as seen in the Athenian drama and elsewhere; and this bunch of scholarly persons being a group paid, again from the public purse; educated by the State, paid for by the people (at least in large part), and who are holding secure prestigious positions of consderable remuneration and privilege; again all publically endowed upon them; and yet this group clearly ducked this very rare but clear chance to speak in more direct terms to the present and to its dreadful states of affairs in many areas of our society today, but perhaps most particularly in government.

Thus the message coming from this privileged bunch was, for those educated sufficiently to read it, that these scholars were going to be too cautious to rock the boat; too circumspect to put their principles and admirations on the line and so use them, just as they so admire the Ancient Athenians for having used them; in pursuit of castigating and holding to public account the utter shambles and the ignorance and interia and incapacity and heedlessnes, and much more, of our political people in power and in parliament, as they are behaving today right now, and in our daily affairs.

These not alone. The group of scholars might have considered when they discoursed knowingly about how one old Athenian playwright used his works to put before the people of Athens what are the terrible results and effects which redound upon their doers, of shabby and woolly thinking; of thoughtless animosity and callous brutalites, so that the scholars might have made it absolutely crystal clear to anyone watching their show that yes, we too are like as were the Athenians; quick to jump to condemn and to use force and so crush opposition; thoughtless and ill-reasoning beings; led by seductive (untruthful, muddled, cunningly contrived) arguments and down the garden path to a future waiting to rebuke and to chide us for our licencious follies. Just as were the Athenians rebuked and chided by their subsequent history once their sense of themselves had also overstepped the marks of justice and due consideration.

Very markedly this show on TV gingerly avoided any metaphysical background of the Greeks or the Athenians; all instances drawn from the drama were kept very firmily political, empirical, historical; as if these scholars were saying to their audiences that there is nothing of importance besides these material and empirical areas of investigation. This presentation of thought on British TV and Radio and also in our newspapers and in our discussion magaizines is the standard practice in these times; and by tacit agrement amongst those who would have it that they know about such things, any metaphysics is proscribed, usually considered by them to be irrelevant and for some strange reason, dangerous.

This show on Athenian drama then was merely folowing a commonplace status quo in regard to the scope of its subject matter; and also in its levels of real engagement to do good and so atempt by direct reference to improve things it was deliberately silent; and it shied away from any actual gracious mordant controversy or critique of ‘modern times’.

And so these scholars were as it were holding up the recovered treasures of Ancient Athenian life and showing them off to their publics and saying how wonderful they were; but then instead of distributing the knowledge of how to use them to advantage right now, and so maybe giving half-a-chance to our nation for it to pull itself out of this serious nose dive it is making into the ground of hard factual repercussions for delinquent behaviours; instead the treasures were wrapped up and put away by the guys and dolls into a study or a lecture room or a seminar in some place far remote from street life in Britain, from governance, simpy because: why?

Well, these guys and molls are just another part of the problem; they are of the opinion that the trajectory in which we are headed is AOK. Kick religion and metaphusics into touch; micromanage an under-educated mass of citizens; provide distractions; muddle through; etc etc all will be just dandy. What is it these guys and dolls are lacking then? Not intelligence perhaps, or foresight, or even discernment; but what?

I’ll tell you my opinion.

These people could have made a good deal of difference for good and they ducked it. They no doubt had seen these great posibilities but either tacitly and silently agreed together not to bring them to life; or else spoke about them and poohpoohed them, probably derided them. Not our business. Our business is to refer to remote times and to study them and have nothing to say on today’s disaster area called Britain.

As the Lord Jesus said: They ‘walked past on the other side’.

Their lack? That awareness of that very metaphysic to which they deny airtime and even refuse an acknowledgement of it existence. Their beliefs put them in a jail of incredulity, of presumption, of pride, of acceptance of things as they are; a kind of listless Beckett-like and Sartrean-type gloom and doldrums, which they recognise as being definitively the human condition.

The real villains of the piece are the values and the assumptions which come into place in lieu of the spiritual values which these sorts of persons utterly deny headroom to. What is there left, when one denies Christ or any and every realm beyond the mundane and sublunary, but these sordid statements; ‘Might is Right’ and ‘Eat, drink and be merry; for tomorrow we die’ and ‘Life is short brutish and nasty.’ and suchlike.

And to where does such currency lead but inevitably to a) nihilism and thereafter b) premiership of the self and one’s ego; and if I may make a Grand Statement: THIS IS ALL OUR TROUBLE.

Hence it makes aboslute sense in the world these scholars inhabit, not to go out on a limb and risk one’s career or one’s neck in a bold and generous essay to enlighten peole watching their programme. Instead audiences are getting a rareified and remote; wholy dissassociated acount of ancient history; like as though the public was in urgent need of being able to drive but was instead shoved in a back seat and strapped in. No windows to see through.

It makes absolute sense for these scholars to present their show in this way because there is for them, and in their opinion, no higher court than one’s own opinion and no higher good than one’s own welfare. Ipso facto QED.

And why do they think like this? Because they do not expose themselves to the beauty and truth and love and wholesomeness of the Lord as the gospels speak of him. His words and life are to these contemporary people, like as to so many of us right now, a closed book.

The Light of the World, The full and final Revelation of God; The Saviour; The Holy One; The Vine; The Water of Life; He who is so wonderful in what he has done for us and left for us to cling to as solace and hope and as guidance for life, to live it so as to be in accord with His will, in charity and sweetness and light, and in humility and due reasonable service: none of this is in their vocabularies, in the mentalities of these would-be knowing and assured mentors to the world.

Had they had and shown just a little sensitivity to our Lord’s life and teaching; maybe we should have been given a programme which actualy was worthwhile learning from?

Sunday Religion

 

I heard a woman speak and offer searching questions on

The radio today:

Why is it we exist; why are we here?

My spirit leapt; at last! A voice is primal-seeking

For substance-meaning, life-intentionality.

Ah, me,

 

This veritable she

Was perorating gravely on her business goals.

Thus it was Sunday listening; post-truth, and being broached

In gauche post-modern style, its unaccomplished mush

And so I thought to write you down this due consideration

————————————————————–

Once would there be, and prompt and early, across the nation

A mighty chime to sound out nine, signing the Station

With solemn mind announces time to broadcast likely

Faith-elevated Doctors of considerable sorts,

Them shedding light in general

 

In those unheard of days, the audience house-trained, taught;

There was the Third, then there was Light, but with the Home

These trinity stopped work and rested on the Sabbath day.

A cornered market – no, in fact, there was no market

 

The time of Radio 1 and such had not yet come. The jolly pops

From dawn till dawn interminate did not prevail

An only lonely ghostly distant eerie young-like thing purturbed

At nights the waves with white noise, driftings in and out

 

Where gormless Horace Batchelor would his ruse, his rules purvey

Which guaranteed the gormless listener wins ‘the football pools’;

Another dated phantomesque phenomenon.

Hucks will remember Luxembourg, with squirming warm affection

 

Ah, simple days, the days when things were seemly sure

Less calculated, more ramshackle, done with much more feeling

The light bulbs dazzled had no shades, uneven ceilings

Slanted; we called it home

 

Soon was to come – a few years down the line, and yet

Some time before the BBC moves, and reneges to pop

A band of seaward privateers’ rave music; floating shops,

Airwaves with hoardings

 

These gondoliers at sea (in following money) interposed

Anchored offshore in creaking scrapyard dhous regaling loudly

Daily to local audiences, peppered ads in pandemonium

Of jaunty raunchy music; throngs adored them, heartwards moored them

 

To first choice to be tuned-to, to hear new emergent singles.

Profuse a BBC bruised haemorrhaged listeners; siren-lures

Having the nation swept from its stalwart standard stuff

And soon by mainforce called, a rapid radio rethink urged

 

Note the nice art, a canny sort pushed primal force for change

Blithely had gamed things so to go unnamed, indeed had feigned

Had made this phrase: ‘youth-culture, its permissive revolution’;

To overshadow business breaking bad on Redifusion

 

In fiftysix or seven ITV first breathed, phoned home,

A television channel off the leash, no statesman’s watchdog

Its scheme brought in commercial funds, a copious subsistence

From trifling fancies dressed up nice; mass advertisements

 

Hot driving seat in living rooms from Bath to Berwick

An instant life change broached from Roche to Lerwick

Its upstart god sprung fully-armed from out the head of commerce

Nor else to be rehoused

 

Alas, beforehand hegemony made Beeb a sole provider

Customer satisfaction not invented, thus allowed their call,

The scatter of the schedules, broadcast platters of the day,

And people sat and watched or listened, whiled tediums away

 

Thus Sundays stood yet honoured not in breach but

The observance; and manners, kind polite consideration

Were sweet survivors, the empiric strength of British passions

In great measure respect the essential cue to do religion

 

Observe commerce was actual nurse and agent blaring boombox

Of overwhelming hectic musics, TV hogmanays

Danced every day from dawn to dusk in civic roundelay

With candied added value:

 

Broad brags of trade marks cauterise brand listeners’ brains

‘Take anything you want’ said fair concupiscent refrains

Regular as like taxes, death, their come-ons kept on coming

Filing the ears with reared desires: Get ideal homes NOW: Stunning!

 

And fancy goods, new plastics, Addis, entroviaform,

A world was being opened, prised, by manufactured toys

Jingles in peoples’ hearts were playing on their serial sighs

Releasing passions’ fires, desires; their inmost lurid demons

 

The thing took off, in avalanche took over common reasons

Ballooned a topsy-turvey land inperative pretension

And expectation, air-castles of dissociation throned

Lusts’ musts above one’s income

 

These then the borders reivers, buccaneers of creeded hearts

When seeded billion pollens, wrung de gustibus contortions

Astute extortions brash supplanted widespread graced decorum

Allowing kowtow

 

And crazy chaos, craven customer solicitations

Eliciting by effect ‘anything goes’; and so a rose

By any other name called freedom, stole by traction

In, and brought in faction, leading license by the nose.

 

The shops, the pops, the over-shoulder hanging locks

Stores, supermarkets, cash and carrys overflows of boose

Open all day, all you can eat, the bottomless coffee cup;

Excess’s palatial wisdom missed its mark, gave us the slip

 

Instead was bred overplus great furror for ‘one’s inspiration’

And reverend ‘creativity’ the ‘arts and stuff’; the fashion

A renaissance heralded, foreclosed, indulged, poetics

The world, alack, expressed themselves, purloined their fifteen minutes

 

The planet heard, was vitalised, began monetise our visits

First Spain and The Ballaerics, Greece; ..ah, no, not Aquitaine

Too near, expensive, Aquitaine, set on a merry plane

To Spain we bundled money down its main proverbial drain

 

Yearly our peregrinations made fast-forward hyper-gains

(Do note my use of idiom; selling fervent latest names

Of cool consumerism; branding-led entcements’ party games

Deck out the passage)

 

The forward destinations exponentially now ranged

And Florida becomes passē, Antarctic’s silent waste

Or Andean Cordillera give rough remote terrains

In our visions high momentous hove such epic paradigms

 

Backdrops on which to paint our ‘there’s no limits’ frenzied faze

There are two a penny cruises, let’s process in two by two

Along with psychic holidays from (being my contention)

Comensurate engagement with a ravaged state of things

 

Our grand New Zealand visit, ah, of course, Lord of the Rings,

And Mechico, Tequilla, drug cartels meet murderers

Safe gated mansions, herded in, with shopping malls hereto

We tour the goldfish bowl!

 

Our living packaged, plasticised, and fibre enervate

Clinically sanitised of course, aesthetically authentic

Swimming in a la carte we glide from furthest shore to shore

Expecting and perplexing, ever self-assured

 

Soul-lowly hungry Olivers thrust begging bowls out candid

Niggardly tourist passers-by go rogue in togs top-branded

Suffer few coppers flung among, their greasy palms to blandish;

Fairweather Pharisees

 

Meantime on British shores perpetual marketplaces bulge

Malls pouring through rude customers, cram brimming overstocks,

Ultra-production’s super-saturated sponge in groundswell

Proliferates abounding

 

A risen surge, such malls had prised an open chink with fists

Which riven, and given early to ITV; pop radio;

Wore flaws, applause a nation roared, so coursed a holy cause:

Commercialism

 

Its ecumenical secular soaring ubiquity

Gave global wayside shrines, set up with icons brave

And running mad disciples pilgrimaging clustered brawls

Regaling spoiled resources

 

Surreal: in serial, social, mayhem earth’s resources hauled

Into the trash pond grandly in a throwaway mad mode

Aeons of decades dump waste refuse into lifeblood seas

The wealth of earth attainted unashamedly

 

Anon along with mirth a ton of cursive dispossession

Alike been squandered, laundered, on our sunny jamboree

Has hit the deck, or rafters, like last chance saloon bartenders;

Our Sunday suits got crumpled

 

Like those machines which gobble up our splendid fumefree cars

Issue their metal boxes, crushed, a mess, like our lame days

Comfort confines us likewise, then next straight we goes our ways

Into a wooden casket

 

Sundays were freed, unfettered, but their term dreadfully dull

Suddenly all distraction ceased, fell great industrial rest

Everything closed except for Church, from Aldershot to Hull

Time’s nomads stranded

 

Argives becalmed on shores awaiting embarkation winds

Feeling delay right heavy, waiting weighing spirits down

Nonetheless drear ennui its patent wholesome scourge effected

And rebel sorts considered

 

Clash of the Titans pitches held no teleported sway

Cash of the Raybans hovered still some six decades away

Nor a collateral clatter broke alarmingly each day

We turn our calendars

 

Enstamped another senior mode was franked by gratitude

A harbour-bar prospective shimmered elsewhere, lit horizons

Death strewed a light, and Sunday silence plumbed it sounding

Impromptu on it

 

Unwelcome day then Sunday, empathised as death companion

Locus The Church itself bore faithfully among its grounds

Sunday then, messenger, brought bad news conscious foremost –

So shoot it down

 

Foster palava, drown with sentient onboard raid incursions

Throw out Messiah with His Sea of Gallilee

Go expurgate life, then instate insatiate yens elsewhere;

This chair?

 

Footware? Or drive-by shooting holiday? Have an affair?

All the regalia paraphernalia whose hallmark flogs obsession

Possessions and acquisitions told in Legion manifest

Contestants for this turf are manifestly extreme unction

 

Knockabout, throwitout, no tomorrow Saturnalias

Daily shillelaghs, accordions, ukeleles, ceilids

Noise for the boys, twirled parasoles for girls;

Meanwhile real-life sore wars bankroll a planet

 

Incident days come in and bearing brandished urgent colour

Manic swing flashing lights, slip-tags bright messages on fastenings

Chucking delights at acolytes excited like hyped children;

Kind winning voices

 

Selling, extolling, excelled in cultivation, going maundering

On strolls inconsequential; absence strewed amongst the lilac fields

Soft-scented fined imaginings wind a pungent garland;

Comatose, and you feel a million dollars

 

Everyone’s up for everything in this vaunted pastoral

Golddiggers, action-figures, up for millionnaires

Impudence streaming, passes round the sweatmeat cream eclairs

Groomed for impugning

 

The actuality of solid matter-of-fact:

Oh, what a tawdry world we live in – what we make of it

Make stinking-fish of religion, and then attribute its doors

With wars, destructions, drop it in the junk room

 

Pass it away, inter it. Dance, devour life’s action, serve it!

Putting away oneself, one’s best election promise

Out of a wassail bowl pour off full stoup of tribulation

Raise up your knees

 

Let’s all go round and round in hula-hula stupor schmooze

Hopelessly thinking nothing, nothing thinking stands to lose

Carving up glories of the earth, a theme park run amuck

There’s naught religion gives us matters like the monster truck

 

Our ends are all economic, money matters satistify

Easing this nightmare whisper, a carpet lifting on the stair

As wanton winds make an entry, send up loathsome chilly air

Caught on the chest, come contrary, appalling Bacchic cheer

 

A session of concession gives respite, prorogues the day

Semesters thence forthcoming find despite another way

Scattered with thorns laid acrid bare, embraced and laced with tears

Harbinger confirmation, evidence to all your fears

 

Passing on rotten batons, futures going to unfulfilling

Hear resonate in backwoods ungent anastasia trilling

Is it a demon, does it bode contrition, something billing?

Acute Salvation

 

Takes up your arm, salutes you, illywhacker; able willing

To take a side, and know the side you take’s the winning

Because provides a gift of love forever; forever-forgiving; thrilling!

The Lord, The Lord, is lowly.

We Shall be Known Hereafter

We shall be known hereafter, dreadful breakers, mayhem makers,

Overreaches, overtakers

In the groove of stalking planet earth, like skulking leather predators

Hoving around, moved to compound, its goodly sphere; abandon’s devastators

Nothing revered, no, nothing, nothing holy

 

Everything lowly, commonplace, trips trifling en passant

Whisks in that famous fifteen minutes glibly mildly away

As everyone’s gift-wrapped peep, attention-span

 

An age in which the niggards think themselves The Man

In their private hearts, whose glittering parts are contraband

Ending in the can

 

Takers of too, too, much, exploiting several, all the futures

Of heritage, and this the now; a ransacked trade resource

Ruled open-season

 

Beyond good reason

We do not even feed our have-nots gracefully. Some go

Without, but others, they get gouts, and blow out elephantine.

Scoop up stout

 

Bland stoups of goodies ever filling waste-bin hoppers

With oddities, sprayed shocking pink potatoes, pull in spent out shoppers;

As clods of clay in Africay go gnawing husk; remainders

 

Our rotten fruits demonstratively shall declare our works

We cannot, dare not open-up ourselves, summon compassion

That way bare weakness lies, brings down on us derision

 

Believes our vision: prisoners of our own defaults; and pinioned

By told opinion, sold, given over, to the venal self

To the shops, the sex, the holidays, those weirdo neoprenes

 

As like to our strewed litter do we dissipate our days

Clogging the oceans, landscapes, on the beaches centre-stage

Unsightly rolls; death-warrants sealing our touch curse

 

Work prophesies, betoken nudges, jog contingency

Into profusion here and now; the rest’s content illusion

Ecology can cope, we like to soap, the systems stand robust;

Imbued

 

Confusions in our brains effect us not see it

Blown inwardly, scope fails upon what staggers there

Our constant holiday thingy spins-out desert-island enclosures

Refuses to avail us

 

Assailed by tropes, hysteria, clung to common iron idols

Pining in our delights, our slight identities depend

On pay-for-later raptors, brokers ineffectually sure-

Shot smoothers-over, sink us into shifting sands

 

Ours are the Emperor’s New Clothes, cataleptic Never Lands;

Feed troves of catastrophic fineries and pokey trinkets;

Cursed and nursed, cajoled, conflated

 

Badlands are plagued by harbingers of famines, forced pretensions

All expectations turn round straight to consternation; dagger

Our pomp whenever chequered weathers wester, interposing,

And can’t deliver

 

We have no sense; no tense or tenor, scope or common context

Our days are centrifuged along a winners-take-all vortex

Self-made, are wreckers, wrecked by thinking haughty creeds

 

Our palisades no longer stand, lie garbaged on the ground

Onetime on these was hung our stout assurance, aegis old

Now rudely we make shelter makeshift, huddled in a fold:

Behold society!

 

Cliquing together, thronging destitutes en mass

Uncritical, unconstrained, we place disaster at the door,

Raise warzones of our own, admit them supplement hard nature,

Bearing with their continuance, ponder no comeuppance

 

Wrecks we’ve wreaked on ourselves, the savagers of Gaia

Too derelict and cowardly gladly shunning homely fact

Cover ups cowl us cowering; misbehaviour under cloaks

Denies it all

 

Unwilling of a remedy, couched comfortably in languish

Pained at the pitch of heaving seas fobbed offloads of our trash

Oceans of plastics, magnitudes of wastrel wandering gulag:

Inheritance

 

All ours, to those who come, engenders death

Backlogs from generations, those who skulk in disregard

Abrupt a curse of nemesis cascades in avalanche

Of maelstrom legacy

 

Lost to ourselves; ourselves have lost the noble highway,

Lo, we did think to handle, angle, wrangle, for ourselves

Instate a twopenny takeover despoiling nature’s groves

We two-bit hustlers

 

Backs to the future, faces to marketplaces,

Solidly going-alone on autocratic power thrones

Stones become gold return again slowly to lowly stones

Wash-up fordone washed-up on sterile shores

 

Thinking to think containment over nature seized

By purse we capture worlds that we secure allures delights

Yet something is greater here than ransomed infrastructures:

It is our humble Lord

 

On earth is he heritor, provident cosmic stakeholder

Investor invested, dressed in bleeding tender charis

Whom by us never should have been rebuked, nor crossed, forsaken

Wonderful Counsellor, pastor-protector, dear directing hand