Archive for August, 2014

A place to go (Writing/ideas/play/prose/poems)

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva on August 10, 2014 by kathydasilva

The following piece of writing, was read to video recording, on you tube recently, but it’s been hard to upload the whole text, so here is the rest so far. I will work this up into a poem or play/script it’s about our time…it is abstract and ‘fictional’ as it does not refer to specific people, and characters are technically fictional too as a result!

We stood together on a hill,
Looking down at all the unreal,

In hushed appearance,
In terrible knowledge
Of the hunted,

We made the peace sign.
(prose/play/poem part)
It was like war itself had a life of its own.
The real nightmare that
The very industry of war had to be kept in a thriving state,
Out of the lie
That an enemy existed,
That had to be fought.

Where did the ‘fight’ for the common good go?
Every child with food to eat.
Medicine and help for the sick.
A roof, warmth and clothing.
The basics, of living.
So no one has to stay out on the street,
In a state of poverty.
No one has to go without.
How can humans
Be so inhuman,
And who will brave up and tell the corrupt
They have to go.
Is it always down to a revolution
To effect change?

Why has this curtain fallen
Between reality,
The life lived for family
And the state which seeks to
Alienate people
From the democratic process?

We shall go to the place of the woods.
Where the hummingbirds sing,
And flowers bloom
Where nature’s canopies,
Cover the littered forest floors
For it is here we are safe
Both from clouded trials
And obscured injustice.

A person can survive for months and
Days of their own company, and that which
Is nature’s creatures.
The fugitives, burn fires using coals,
In a stove of brick and stone

The alchemy of giving your all
To save all.

We’ve been told we are the ‘wanted’.
The brigands hunt us down
Like jackals, with armour.

Our only spears are words
Our only ammunition is knowledge
The net was a trampoline.

We had the brilliance of every move
The worm holes of attendance
Into the dark aspects of state.

A metallic fighting machine with