Saturday, 17 July 2010
Thursday, 15 July 2010
The Day Flies Off Without Me
The planes bound for all points everywhere
etch lines on my office window. From the top floor
London recedes in all directions, and beyond:
the world with its teeming hearts.
I am still, you move, I am a point of reference on a map;
I am at zero meridian as you consume the longitudes.
The pact we made to read our farewells exactly
at two in the afternoon with you in the air
holds me like a heavy winter coat.
Your unopened letter is in my pocket, beating.
By John Stammers
Thanks The Clinic
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised......(Thank God)
Firstly, the passion not longer exists so explicitly in our community. We had the Toxteth and the various Brixton and Tottenham riots, the passion for extreme change seems a remnant of the past.
Secondly We never had black universities, and any form overt socialisation, and that of which did occur, is seen to be of a more subtle nature, than that of segregated America.
Thirdly the novel is very slow paced, and the underlying factor is the revolution never occurred in reality, the uprising some dreamed of, was meant by a peaceful and docile occurred instead, a of which we now called multiculturalism (Well kind of).
I have been unfairly harsh, but a man like Gil Scott Heron has a lot to live up to.
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- ABERDEEN, Scotland, United Kingdom
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