And the Band Played Waltzing Mathilda

25th April is Anzac Day in Australia. It commemorates the  26,111 Australian casualties, including 8,141 deaths, when young men were sent to their deaths in the Gallipoli campaign of World War 1, along with forces from New Zealand, the start of the Anzac tradition. This figure doesn’t include those who lost their lives from other countries involved in the campaign

Supposedly Australia came of age of a nation on the date of the landings at although I have never quite understood why the slaughter and crippling injuries of a nation’s youth in a senseless battle can be seen as any cause for celebration. Nevertheless, we remember and respect those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, but we do not worship a war fought for the redivision of territory among the Great Powers of the time.

There is magic riding the Divine Unseen in this wild, swirling world of ours.

But also blowing on the winds and eddies

the grief, pain, suffering and whispers

of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice of lives lost

in pain, fear and terror on the battlefields of the past

and whose spirits now ride the wild galactic winds among the stars.

These voices do not die – they blow in the fierce winds,

weave into the breezes

and whisper their losses and reasons for losses

Into the hearts and souls of those who can hear the

nuances of magic

to inspire those whose soul music

is love, kindness and a commitment to a world with no more wars.

 

 

Rage, Rage, Against the Dying of the Light!

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Today, my friends, I want to present the modern-day Yellow Brick Road – Yellow for Cowardice; Brick for Stupidity and Road … well, more like a trail in the sky of missiles hitting Syria and possibly paving the way for global conflict on an unimaginable scale.

On this road are staggering the Tin Man, the Dumbo Donald of US presidential infamy; the Cowardly Lion, British Prime Minister, Theresa May, too gutless to stand up to an increasingly unhinged, Dr Strangelove-look-alike and refusing to seek approval from Parliament for the missile strikes on Syria; and the Scarecrow, France’s President Macron, a Bonaparte wannabe/Little Lord Fauntleroy tagging along behind war criminals bombing Syria hoping to join the Big Bad Asses .

Because, yes, you bomb a country which has been bombed to smithereens because that’s somehow going to put fear and loathing into the hearts of President Assad, President Putin, the leaders of Iran and Iraq, and screw any civilians killed in the air raids.

So let’s bury the hand-wringing and hypocrisy of lives supposedly lost in a recent chemical attack in Syria. There are so many unanswered questions about the authenticity of this so-called attack but action by the three leaders has pre-empted any international investigation of the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth in Syria.

But hell, why bother with the truth that for these three war criminals beating the drums of war is a handy diversion from their own troubles at home: Dumbo,  the legal inquisitions dangling over his head as well as the open corruption of the Republican senators and congress puppets of the billionaire class; May with her austerity measures looking increasingly like screw the many while filling the coffers of the very few in the billionaire class sucking Britain dry; and Macron trying to implement similar measures on behalf of the super-rich in France.

Hey, why not distract from the increasingly difficult task of trying to prop up a failing facade of democracy with a modern gladiators’ show of glitzy missiles, flash missile trails and bright lights of said missiles exploding somewhere in a foreign, strange land where in reality lives don’t matter to the Three Conquistadors of international criminal action because – let’s also not forget – the doors of welcome are closed to the many thousands fleeing Syria and seeking refuge.

These three monsters act as pimps, prostituting themselves at the feet of the military-industrial-energy conglomerates to flog weapons to the likes of Saudi Arabia which is bombing the shit out of Yemen, causing death, starvation and destruction to thousands of people and  killing many, many, many children – yes, real children, but hey! who cares when the dollars are pouring in from arms sales.

And puh-leez, let’s not forget the real basis of the US, UK and France trying to meddle in Syria and get their murdering mitts on the country – gas pipelines. Two are proposed as per the map below:

These are the REAL yellow brick roads – control of resources, always at the basis of wars throughout history and even more so in the era of US, British and European empire-building and empire-protection. And the reason the Western powers are stomping around in a snit is because Russia moved into Syria first and stole a march on those same Western powers who thought they’d corralled Russia in recent years and would get their mitts on the country’s resources and control them. So don’t bang on about Putin being so godawful, because they’re all damned well godawful.

Just let’s remember and repeat Dylan Thomas’ words – relating to old age but just as relevant to the war criminals in the US, UK and France, because their actions could well herald a much more dangerous international situation with the threat of nuclear warfare and a Third World War:

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Love Letter to Planet Earth

 

Let Us Live In Love Peace Paradise On Earth – Poem by Terence George Craddock (afterglows echoes of starlight)

teaching the lesson
love heals
is a difficult task
for adults to absorb,
adults taught punishment
examples not tolerance
in early entire childhood
behavioural control upbringing

the stick the rod taught
harsh discipline might
is right not who is right

let us live in love peace
paradise on earth
does not light
overcome dispel darkness
love is light
waiting to come
into all lives
in all societies

open the heart
sow love
compassion
healing
into the world
break centuries
millennia cycles
of intolerance pain

inflicted

agony

let love rule the world
embrace the beauty of love

Copyright © Terence George Craddock

 

For Presence and Mystery

For Presence 

Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.
 

Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses. 

Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon. 

Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to
follow its path.
 

Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity. 

May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame. 

May anxiety never linger about you. 

May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of
soul.

 Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek
no attention.

Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul. 

May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven
around the heart of wonder.

 

~ John O’Donohue ~

 

(To Bless the Space Between Us)

The Grace of Devotion

I was looking through Van Gogh’s vast gift of his artwork to humanity and pondering the fact that, despite all his hardships and lack of financial success while he was alive, this amazing artist persisted with his bountiful, wonderful paintings.

It surely is a reminder to us all that inspiration arises from the Divine, from the creative gifts inherent in us when we incarnate on this earth, and we need to honour that which graces our lives to raise us to our highest selves.

No matter whether we are acknowledged publicly for our creative efforts or whether we are financially successful, as long as we listen to and act upon our inner spirit, when we are true to ourselves, we have lived our lives fully and to the best we can.

Images of Van Gogh’s prolific artwork

Van Gogh’s life – Wikipedia

The Journey – Mary Oliver

I know that this is reprinted many times, but I love this poem by Mary Oliver and wanted to share it again.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Dream Work)

 

The World Tree of Hope & Unity

To honour the courage, hope and unity of all those young people and their supporters standing up, organising and fighting for gun control and the right of young people to an education free of the fear of violence.

Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There’s a battle outside
And it is ragin’.
It’ll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin’.
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin’.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’.

                                                                               – Bob Dylan