I started off as a farm worker
I’m a bit sheepish about that now Worked as a TV repairman for a while Got my wires crossed Had a hot-dog van Never made a sausage Learned to be a plasterer Shim-shim, bosh-bosh Was a cook in a wholefood café Got my fingers burned Went off to France to pick fruit Ended up in a jam Drove a laundry van Then made a clean break Trained as a mechanical engineer Had a bit of a breakdown Imagined myself a novelist But that’s another story Wrote a book about producing lime That was quick Retrained in Environmental Management But it was unsustainable Briefly became an academic There’s a lesson there Somewhere Working It’s sick, man For anyone campaigning on Rojava, this song is your to use - complete with tune but no harmonies: contact me
Rojava Song Kelvin Mason, 14 October 2019 The music is the bursting of bombs The lyrics formed of shrapnel and dust Bullets and tanks and rpg’s The chorus is children’s tears A mother lies dead in the rubble A father whose battle is lost The dream was of equality Of freedom and a flourishing land Their song is a dream turned to nightmare By men who hate anything good The bombs dropped by other men With fog in their eyes Hearts of stone Cold following orders Their song is a dream turned to nightmare The chorus is children’s tears The tune sounds horror forever and ever No words, there’s only the scream No more words, only the scream No words, farewell to the dream But we must rewrite this lament Words of resistance anew Care, compassion, solidarity A chorus of joyful laughter A mother of gentle sons A father whose daughter stands strong Dreaming of liberty An end to the bombs and the flames The song can rekindle the dream A vision for all humankind Hope for a future With equal rights Democracy A planet at peace The song can rekindle the dream A chorus of joyful laughter The melody resounding for all of time Words are just a beginning Sing till the whole world is singing Sing till Rojava is winning Sisyphus Song
Chorus Life is not about waiting for The storm to pass overhead But learning to dance in the endless rain Da-da da da-da da daa Can I see the beauty of climate change The blaze of the forest fire Will I welcome the boatloads of refugees As land becomes the sea Can I hear the poetry of nuclear bombs The awe of the mushroom cloud Blow kisses to the ghost of Enola Gay Hold a little boy’s hand Chorus Can I sense the faith in intolerance The fear in racial hate Dare diff’rence across that burning bridge Meet with an open heart Can I feel the health in a pandemic The justice of the billionaire Can I make the case for equality The politics of care Chorus “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” Camus “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning how to dance in the rain.” Vivian Greene “To recreate, if not beauty, then aesthetic dimension (in things like this) in trash itself, that’s the true love of the world.” Slavoj Žižek |
AuthorI am he as you are he as you are me, and we are all together Archives
December 2022
Categories |
I said, hey what's going on?
A story, essay, lyric or rhyme with no reason almost every day... or at least sometimes, randomly