Archive for October, 2014

No More Crab Apples

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2014 by kathydasilva

No more of the crab apples bunched in the air

No more the balloon faces, dangling like helium inflated toys

No more paying attention to the lost, who chose that way

The oil rig on the shore told more than one story

The smell of metal in the heat, and the oddity of it’s presence

Shingle beached, like a giant man.

The white cliffs the sedimentary rocks, layer by layer

They’ve been intruded upon

Untouched until now, the virgin cliffs of shimmering chalk

So the silent men in suits have tap, tap, tapped.

There were divers there one summer

Wet suited and carrying bottled air.

They trudged down toward the shingle shore line,

Disappearing beneath the wave ridden sea

Measuring the cost? Searching for what is hidden.

And the locals still out of habit fishing along the breakwater.

Tap, tap, tap, the barman opens another keg of beer,

The bar near the beach like a refuge from the wind that sails

Across relentlessly all the miles of coastline,

So every hedge and growing thing is bent toward the mainland


The refuge, is it really all we can hope for downing beer.

Salty crisps, sea salty hair.

When you’ve swum and picked up sand in every bodily crevice.

And now this, sharing a beach with an iron man.

Americans. They came sniffing for oil, their gold bullion missing.

The sedimentary sand rocks attract prospectors of all varieties.

Fossils, stones of different origins are washed clean upon this shore.

The sea does an amazing task of whittling things to a size and scale

That nature can cope with and endure.

And here are we, open to all elements.

Like hardy houses of light,

‘So don’t come near this here fair shore, the rocks may make you founder!’

From the night watchman of the seas.

A Walk in the Park

Posted in Autobiography, Current affairs, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 22, 2014 by kathydasilva


Why is it walking amidst fields feels so much better than a London street? Far from the madding crowd… I use to love Thomas Hardy novels, for all the drama, and sorrow, irony? Everything that is human about us humans. Jude the Obscure was made into a movie. I then read the novel, but, it is a deeply thought provoking piece of literary wisdom. Humans fail, and then they fail again, and then there is sorrow.

I feel saddened. This feeling has grown slowly, but, surely since I think the event in New York city of 9/11. There is definitely a feeling of unrest, that will not go away. I think the whole world watched news reel items unfold, some of which seemed a little pseudo in content. If the events were indeed as described, ‘an act of terror’ from a definite band of criminals, then nothing really has made sense for a long time, let alone the war, the invasion of Iraq. The war presented the entire European community with incoming refugees. Such large population displacement, has caused I think the extremist groups to become more motivated in their various versions of racism.  So everyone feels a bit unsettled.  After the event of the 7th July 2005, bombings in London, at least two of my close friends made decisions not to live in the capital again.

The event of the knowledge of surveillance being increased, (with the whistle blow of Edward Snowden),not just increased, but like Russia before, whole populations of peoples being ‘watched’, seems to set an alarming precedent, to anything I have known in my lifetime.  Non of ‘us’ really know who or what the ‘enemy’ is. George W Bush was the worst politician of all time for using the words ‘folk over there’. To this day I cannot believe, that a president of the United States of America could have sounded so ignorant. The ugliness of the situation, something left hanging in the air. The information that warnings about an imminent event in New York, being overlooked. This being the global leading ‘giant’. The USA unprepared for the ‘day’.

Recently it was reported that 850 firemen from the event of 9/11 developed cancer. Some of them already have died from cancer. There was the mention of asbestos in the building materials of the twin towers. There have been suggestions of additional bombs placed in the building which effectively brought them down on their own foundations straight down, not toppling over onto the neighbourhood.  Yes. We all watched in horror our television sets. I know I did. I know apart from sleeping hours, that I was glued through the horror to following the story of the whole event. I had too thought of returning to my town of birth, because it looked like world war three was about to erupt.

Just before the event of September 11, 2001, I had been studying photography at a local college in Barking. I had thoroughly enjoyed learning colour processing, and printing, I had planned to use the new skills, and develop my art career once more. Also, Greenbelt Festivals, which at the time operated from Cheltenham Race Course, in Gloucestershire, offered in 2002 a feature spot on their weekend of arts, for new play writers. I had developed a poem, probably a few years before that, which I used to make approximately fifteen minutes of script. I called it ‘See Through to Forever’ a prophetic/creative piece/drama, this got read out on the August Bank Holiday of 2002. I had emailed the content to Esther Baker, who ran an amateur dramatics group called Fusion. They as a group would do drama workshops with people in prison.  Esther is a Baptist, and professional director in London theatres. Esther Baker’s workshop was meant to be a show casing of new talent in writing for theatre.  At the time I had no idea that every email I had written was being filtered by the state or the NSA or who ever. Occasionally, I would hear my disc drive attempting to read a disc, when there was no disc in place. Back in 2002, we still had the old floppy discs, now replaced with USB memory sticks. I had however, become aware of the possibility of a ‘hacking’ attempt on my home computer, brand new as it was then. I had started as a precaution to place all my creative writing onto discs so that if I went onto the internet, the work might stand some chance of staying unread until I chose to publish. The whole story of ‘everything’ being copied and collected by the state, had never occurred to me. There were no official warnings to the public after all. When I wrote email, I had presumed the password protected the personal emails sent to an addressed human the other end on the receiving end. There were a few incidences, where my words seemed to have ended up in the mouths of actors on TV dramas. I had at one point attempted to write to the BBC about this occurrence. One drama in particular was the drama, called, A Sea of Souls by David Kane. (I don’t need to remind people  I expect about the story of Cane and Able in the bible).  Cane murders Able out of jealousy. Now to add to the mystery I had written to a person identifying themselves as a fan of Johnny Depp, Gabriel Scar-Pfeiffer ( I think an alias). This man had openly advertised that he had knowledge of everything about Johnny Depp that people might be likely to want to know on a Johnny Depp fanzine site. Oddly enough, when I researched David Kane’s original history, it showed he had studied for a media degree, and did a specialized study  in fanzine sites and the use of them. I had written to Gabriel a private email, and talked about a painting I had seen on a postcard purchased from the Barbican in London. At the time, I could not remember the title, and described the picture like a sea of souls. The picture is a painting by Thomas Payne, the title, Enchanted Sea.  In January of I think 2003, a drama entitled, A Sea of Souls was broadcast. The first episode, involved a story about a Brazilian nanny, who had been murdered, leaving a house ‘haunted’. The place in which the body was hidden after the said deed, was a metallic tank filled with water. And the psychic in the drama, had been given script which read like a line out of my drama piece Seeing Through to Forever, which of course was read out well in advance of the screening of this series. The Psychic investigator says:

‘Why does blood taste like iron’….and then goes onto saying, something about the hemoglobin, causing it to be thus…….

If you look at my other postings, you will find some of this script, and can compare, the writing. But, I have already written to Scottish BBC in an attempt at asking about the obvious plagiarism. I also by chance found in the Recorder paper another author challenging the authorship of this series, who had sent in script for his own series drama proposal only to find parts of the stories appearing in a Sea of Souls…as if to rub salt into the wound.  How can the words in a private email end up in the hands of such a vulture, and or the BBC in Scotland.  I am still angry.  And now I suspect the information of my opinion addressed in Seeing Through to Forever, upset someone. Someone hidden in perhaps the offices of GCHQ? Or perhaps the NSA God forbid? So is the censorship of opinion already in place? It’s a big question in my head, because words do not suddenly appear on paper coincidently. I would challenge BBC Scotland on their written reply to me, on common assumptions of facts too. How easy is it to ruin someone’s aspiring efforts?  And now I appear to be moaning. But, I am justified.  Comments are welcome.


Posted in Stories and reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 11, 2014 by kathydasilva



I went to the Tate again on Friday. Sigmar Polke, had opened. I thought it made sense also to have a second viewing of the Kasimir Malevich too. But, on the way there, I was looking at the Thames. I mean really looking at the Thames River.  A few years ago I lived at Newhaven, in Sussex, there too we had a river close to housing, the Ouse. I am pretty sure that I am not imagining it, but at high tide, the water seemed to be filling up the bank very high, almost to a point of overspill. I am now sure that what I learned at sixth form, many years ago, plus with the information of melting ice at least at the north Pole, that sea levels appear to be rising.  There is also the problem of the plate that England sits on is also sinking about an inch a year. So should we not be planning like the Dutch to shore up our sea defenses especially after last winter’s come spring deluge causing floods? I think the Thames is tidal in its favor. But, to be truthful, it seems it will only be a few years when this river bank, though solid as it currently seems will need to be built upon, or the river itself dredged to make it deeper.  The Thames on Friday looked like a sink too full of water, where someone has forgotten to turn the tap off.  Although the Thames barrier might work against a tidal wave, I cannot see that making a jot of difference if the rainfall too were to contribute too the ‘overfull sink’ situation.  It might be better to relocate to a mountainous region, like Wales.  Watching the Titanic film has reminded me how mad the world is. Making a fortune being the  goal of business men, but climate or simply environmental changes being the last thing on their minds when exchanging cash for land.  I approached the Tate Gallery entrance, and to my right, tall newly built apartments surrounded me. Most of them new. One or two older style buildings left though. Is London going to be victim of the sea? A little Venice.

The Sigmar Polke was worth a visit though I preferred his earlier work, the silver gelatin prints proved interesting if for the ‘collage’ of images put together with meaning and content.  The era of 1975.  One picture in particular was of two American Indians, in modern day jeans, holding casually rifles, and in the background a large toadstool of a mushroom, the height of a man. The sky was filled with the outspread wings of an airplane.  I think nuclear testing may have still been allowed up to this point, though the facts need checking.  Polke abstracts later on did not work for me. There was not enough color, there was no meaning other than process. His slightly more ‘hippie’, period with wall hangings, with references to tribal culture, were better visually.  Polke seems to have included images of Prince Charles, and I think there’s at least one film with Princess Anne as a very young woman visiting an exhibition.  I went for a second look at the Kasimir Malevich. Futurist, Cubist, and modernist. Somewhere between Miro and De Stijl, Mondrian.  I must confess, that too many of the pictures were so similar, that reducing the number might have helped concentrate the public’s eye.  I think Kasimir’s last period of painting made more sense. The portraits clearly show his talent for figurative painting.  I wonder today what makes a painter distinguished above others or different in style.  He died quite young in his fifties.  It was good following the time line of the Russian revolution on the wall outside the exhibition. Something to ponder.Hard times and all!P1090104