Archive for November, 2016

City of Stone

Posted in Poetry, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2016 by kathydasilva

 

Water runs down a pane of glass

The cup of anger is still spilling

It leaves sticky stained materials

Bared fury like filthy broth and prison food

No one makes the choice of another

So mood swung damages, chipped floors

And bricks of hate flung into pits of fury

Chaotically, jumbled, living amongst the rootless,

Jungle-bred.

The effigy of guilt

Wrapped round cursed scorn

And blue air turned into ice baths

Waking as if the bed is made of nails

That have cut and bruised nightly

Anything that laid itself there

Or dared to lay itself there

The felt floor that masks mistrust

Tapered, threadbare lives.

Chemically and filthy

Rat poisoned humanity

Grey-skinned and anaemically

Uttering their madness

As they roll like pigs in

Human fed obsessions

Swollen eyes and flesh clinging to the railings

Around the bathing pool of gloom

Watching the rest of humanity

Writhing in the catastrophic

Judgement of its own failure

Beads of sweat on the bald heads of men

With pig-like faces

The ultraviolet baring it all in glowing forms

Psychadelic amnesias, the petulant flesh expanding

Electronic conveyance like a manufactured coralling

To and from madness

To and from

Epically

Humanity

Failing

 

The above poem was made earlier this year. The day after I published to the web, I noticed, IDS resigned from his position, as he disagreed with further cut backs for the disabled amongst us. But, truly the problem is on a larger scale, with regard to food and habits of humans who would if they could eat natural foods, grown by their own families. A return to natural food stuffs, and with a healthier outlook, might just save the day. But, where are we now, using our technology for killing people, basically through war. And all the technology for war has a poisonous effect, and after effect. We need to return to Our God, who cared and cares for us.

This and other poems by me can be bought in a collection Life Dance through Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com I publish with createspace.com and everytime someone buys a book, I get fed too, with a small royalty, this keeps the poet in me alive, and enables me to share the wisdom handed down to us through the bible and philosophy.

 

What Katy Did Next…

Posted in Autobiography, Biography, Current affairs, politics, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 25, 2016 by kathydasilva

Not really a reference to Susan Coolidge…but, for the sake of it the tales of a little girl in a nursery setting… The poem at the front of the book, well my copy that I still have from childhood, What Katy Did, just made me cry a bit. Like a voice from long ago, when life was more gentle. Yes, the people of Hampshire, are just that, gentle. That is indeed what I remember. Her poem is titled To Five. And the  first and second  verse:

Six of us once, my darlings, played together

Beneath green boughs, which faded long ago,

Made merry in the golden summer weather,

Pelted each other with new fallen snow.

Did the sun always shine? I can’t remember

A single cloud that dimmed the happy blue-

A single lightning-bolt or peal of thunder

To daunt our bright, unfearing lives: can you?

I guess that at least when I was small, or younger, I did live the most wonderful life, in my mother’s house, alongside a sister, who was two or nearly three years older than myself. And we had quite a disciplined existence, and routine, every morning, getting up for school, quite early. We were the sort of kids, most parents, dreamed of , and mostly were quite well behaved. But, it was  my parents who eventually fell out with eachother. But, all along, I had the most wonderful experience of life. The house was an old detached Victorian built red brick building with a tiled roof and chimneys, with a long garden that backed onto, a virtual wilderness. For a long time, I experienced a kind of stability, that allowed me to focus on school and friendships, and there is a kind of lull, created by security, that allows for that sought after thing, called education. I think now what a blessing, to have had this peace. But, life is a fragile thing. It is amazing, how true it is that a house, can be a castle, and that is still so true, for without the right environment, how can anyone really enjoy living or concentrate on what counts. The house was just that, but, the money in our household was not great in quantity at least in our early years my sister and I, use to manage, however, to create what was not there in the cupboard, by being great inventors. And chocolate spread, was a mix of cocao powder and margerine, when jams and fancy spreads, were absent. Sugar sandwiches, and for the rest of the time, squash and tea served in a pot. This was still a recovering Britain, from two world wars. In the sixties, I just remember being the small youngest child and everyone older than me, and a bit taller. And Margaret my elder sister was about to marry, on her eighteenth birthday, and she had a glass bowl in her hands, which held water and some sort of lily or orchid, which she managed to drop and the glass broke and cut her wrist, and she had been rushed to the hospital and had stitches. She was blonde and wore her hair backcombed, and high at the crown. It is such a brief memory, but, the only one I have of when she was with us at Cobbett Road. And later  in life, my sister, had such a lot of sorrow, and she died of a sarcoma cancer. And she had said, that her happiest years were her childhood. And now I think I do appreciate what my parents did do for me, and it sounds halcyon in feeling, but, we were not really spoiled, in a material way. Much of the delight was gained from reading and learning, and the natural world around was enormously helpful.

Well, nostalgia over with! Why is it the politicians, in our country sound so unreal?  Perhaps being forced to play an evasive role, has forced this enactment of pretence of coping upon them. But, it is true that the last sixteen or so years of life in Britain, that we as a country seem to be struggling, quite a bit. And war wherever it is occuring is expensive, and I just wonder why, just why are we having to do all of this ‘fighting’? I am hopeful and glad at the American result of their election, for  a new start was needed.  and very sadly the left wing over there proved to only have what I can see is a weak leadership, and were far too keen, to perpetuate war abroad without any conscience. Most of my own life, I had to listen to my mother restating all of what went on in England, during her youth in a war that nearly broke our back, as food had to be rationed, and as for being prepared for the actual battle, the materials for weapons and ships, munitions, was seriously under estimated. Historians, recount, the railings from seaside resorts being ripped from their placement, and melted down in order to help with the deficit of need. No please we do not want that kind of war ever again! And yet again, why is there that uneasy feeling in the air? The feeling of not being settled, or safe? Something interesting is happening in Israel this week. Spontaneous fires, breaking out in the city of Jerusalem. And it reminded me of something I read on Wikipedia about the attempt to rebuild the temple of Solomon. That no matter how hard the Jews tried to rebuild the temple, disaster always struck either in the form of fire or falling masonry. And it seems to me that God is speaking again. Some people might blame the climate now, but, the Palestinians were saying that the Zionist’s were forbidding their call to prayer in Jerusalem. So who will listen? And in all truth, I do believe, that the Jews need to recognize their Messiah, in their midst, who has always been, Jesus, who had said: Who is my sister and my brother? And under the new covenant, all men will be saved.

Assange to give his statement this week to Swedish Prosecutor, Ingrid Isgren

Posted in Current affairs, politics, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , on November 14, 2016 by kathydasilva

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Julian Assange started a three day ordeal of questioning today, as Swedish prosecutor Ingrid Isgren, arrived to take a formal statement, and progress the long awaited investigation.  Wikileaks representative James, a friend of Assange handed press the updated information about  todays procedings and how they went. But, so far, Assange was flanked only by Ecuador’s  counsel, Carlos Poveda Moreno, due to the disorganized event of not informing or waiting for the arrival of Assange’s Swedish defence representative, Per Samuelson. Assange is said to have gone ahead without PB142366.JPGSamuelson, in order to appear fully cooperative with the effort of Ms Isgren, when she arrived. A long drissly day of wet rainy weather seems too to have put off Assange’s many supporters. I think too, since the American elections are now over people possibly believe, Assange will be in the clear.

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Ingrid Isgren leaving the Ecuadorian Embassy today just after 6pm

Life stories..Looking For Pearls update…

Posted in Autobiography, Biography, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva, writing with tags , , , , , on November 14, 2016 by kathydasilva

 

It’s that time of year where nostalgia can grab you as the Christmas seasonal fanfair begins. But, I am in the middle of writing, the memoire/fictionalized version of my life story. I am feeling a tad freer from changing names deliberately, so that while the book will of course go public and be available for sale hopefully I will save my relatives from invasive problematical interest, or potential interest in the future. I am anticipating, this will feel my best work, because essential to biography or autobiography is some honest recounting of events. I was becoming very focused on loss recently, and also have started the ‘novel’ from a different time point, than originally planned. It looks a bit more logical though to go backward from a recent event that was momentous or devastating or life changing at the very least. An lo, springs an honesty, from the many things observed, and funerals, as well as weddings, bring family members together. I am now more hopeful about finishing this one sooner. I had to have a little time away from just typing up a story line, as Driftwood, also became an emotional burden, in part because I am an artist, and events are still current politically, and now even more so, the recent American elections are showing the turmoil and uncertainty of our age. So back to Looking For Pearls, and my fight to create something with some of the poetry side of me still coming through. I always think writing takes something of the energy of the interior spirit of a person as you go along, so that when you finish, you do feel like it is a kind of intellectual birth moment. I am feeling helped along this week, by staying home a bit, with the heating on, thankfully. Here’s  a little extract of Looking For Pearls, it is loaded with emotional ups and downs as a book, but, my artschool years provide quite an interesting, backdrop to London, and the art scene in general. In the extract, I am harking back to my mother’s funeral. (All names are changed to protect identity).

There was tension within the family group and then her grandson, Martin, had told us he could see her, first at the church kneeling at the side alter, and then when we met at the wake. A teenager with second sight, though I am not sure how that happened, he had had visions since his youth. And he could see my son who had passed, and he could see my dad, who had passed, and he could see, my elder sister, and she too had passed.‘ extract from Looking For Pearls by Katherine Da Silva

I have had to live through about a decade of relatives, passing on. So it is all going to go in there somewhere, as life has to appear as real as it is. Though there is plenty of humor as our family, and hopefully my adult self had to cope with such a lot of striving, to make  things happen. I am glad that TV today is getting so predictable and repetitive if only for creating the need and urge in me to make something different. In a way, the whole fictionalized future dwelling semi-scifi, genre, of recent film, has so much forboding attached to it. I too have my version of something like that, in ‘Battlefield’, this will eventually have a different title, but I have some stories up my sleeve, for the year ahead, well at least two or three story lines. The film Hope and Glory leaves us in the period in which it is made, and although this perfectly reflects a certain nostalgia, of a time when people pulled together, through rationing, and bombing raids, the parts I like most are the family exchanges, and rituals of eating together, from grandad to grandchild, all understanding their place, and all interacting.

I was bequeathed a few old photographs recently from the war period, and childhood of my mother. I was so pleased to be in receipt of them, as there is some wonderful historic element, in the styles of clothing and hats. My grandfather on my mother’s side had come from a farming family. And it is with some delight to remember that age, when families would expect to eat food grown in their own gardens. I think the twentieth century has gone so far into the financial element of material things, the era of the super store, that people, and community have truly suffered. My mother’s era, were much more family orientated, and everything especially during the war years of my mother’s youth, was home grown, and they had a small holding. And then of course they had the war to deal with, and for as long as I can remember, every  now and then, my mother would become very thoughtful, about this period of her life, reliving the things, people went through.

 

 

 

 

An Army of Robins

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva on November 10, 2016 by kathydasilva

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAs I  was stood in Tesco this morning, I had planned to be out for the day, and travelling back to my home town, Southampton,but, the whole Christmas festivity thing was, ongoing around the store, and I started to do the thing people do, which is look at the gift packs. I looked at a few! And then did the thing that was usual for me, which was standing back and declaring it too early by far to start to shop for presents. Then, I did a  back track, to  purchase  some ornaments for the tree, and I remembered, everyone. I remembered, the passing of my sister the autumn before, the one member of my family for whom the appearance of a robin, meant the ‘loved’ one was near. Well I am sure she meant it to comfort. But, then, I started to add up, all the ‘loved’ ones, who had passed, and the number made me numb. And I am not exagerating. Both my parents separately died of old age. My sister Alison, died last year after three years of suffering motor neurons disease. My eldest sister the life  and soul of many a Christmas, had died of cancer back in the year 2000, she was just 50. Alison was 55 years old. My grandma, had lasted to 92. I am not at all sure of the why two in my family, have passed so soon. One less present to buy, but, also less of a reason to travel to visit my home town. Only I do. Southampton is a wonderful city now, with arty cafes and a wonderfully precincted shopping center. Its air is a  whole lot more fresh, than the London soot, we accomodate daily. And my own child is buried near to my grandma, and grandad, so yes, I do still go and visit. But, out they  came, the floods of tears. The sight of the Snowman whom I had written about in a poem about my Father. Tom Hanks did the voice over for the family film about a snowman who becomes inhabited by the spirit of a dad who had passed on. And crazy as it may seem the son, who had the imagination to see it. Or was this too, some authors interpretation of grief? I think grief is something that catches everyone, at some point. I felt a bit silly. I with my streaming face of tears, with everything welling up inside. Grief  is exhausting. My reliance on art, and writing, to ‘get me through’, well, art does do one thing, it lets you show emotion. And though all the cards at this time of year are a little bright with red and glitter, I decided to be more mute and monotone, and let the soul show through. And partly to mark, my sister’s passing, I made my card this year, that beautiful little garden bird the robin. Though you will have to imagine the colour. It could be early morning or just before dark, but the twilight, element speaks quietude. I printed five of these up and stuck them to gift cards, from the craft market, and they look really quite good with the cream colour backed card, enough to say, its done.

Cartooning…….politics, society…

Posted in Current affairs, health, politics, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 6, 2016 by kathydasilva

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Yes..I think I could get to liking drawing in marker pens, cartoon satire, or, just illustration, or both..! There is something awfully freestyle about marker pen usage. I can totally understand some artists doing this… when I have worked up enough images I’ll put them together in a book, or fit them into Driftwood an illustrated version, as the subject gives itself to an attempt at the provocative element. Each destination of Irene and Michel, in my story,has been set there with purpose, and the significance of which gives inspiration for their drawings, and commenting on what is happening in the current political sphere of Earth. I have only barely suggested these things as, it is more about feeling uneasy, and pursued, by something as if we are all tested by our own convictions and beliefs for what is going on in society. How can society take in all of the violence of conflict and the new displacement of whole populations…

I often think, with the probable and uneasy position some world leaders take, with regard to war or no war, scenarios, that, we the citizens must try our best to influence back, and feed into the arena of talks,  the subjects of which concern us all as humans. I remember when it concerned quite a few of us, humans, the use of nuclear weaponry. In particular in England there was a reaction to the positioning of cruise misiles designed in the USA.  Although there is less damage, done with ‘reduced’ plutonium missiles in terms of area affected when the bombs hit the ground, they still do leave significant pollutant radioactive particles, and this affects human life in the future, in particular new human growth of foetuses, and young children are more prone to  cancers. The problematical issue is who is left to sweep up, the radioactive dust. The wind does blow the stuff around, significantly.  And too, I am mindful of the Fukashima disaster, which is still upon us, in the northern hemisphere in particular. I am so very worried, that a lot of our current political ‘mayhem’, is mere distraction from the reality of what might be upon us very soon, with much more of our Earth’s atmosphere, contaminated with the ‘particles’. When Cheronbyl, happened, even milk in the Welsh hills had to be thrown away because it had been contaminated, with rainfall, and too, this is often swept away into the archives of past news. But, it is still with us now. And so more to the point, we must consider all these things, when agreeing or disagreeing to war, with use of such weaponry.

I look at arenas, the political ones in particular. The Colosseum, is a place of fascination even as a ruin, but, it represents, a time when a dictator had absolute rule, and used people as pawns, in games which ended in death. It is one of those frightening moments in human history, that the wealthy and influential should choose to be thus entertained. I must say at this point, too in literature recently there seems to have been a return, although technically only in ficitional form, to the theme of such a game. I did not  take to the book The Hunger Games, and given its popularity it made me wonder if we as humans had progressed at all toward civility.

I have looked at the USA, arena recently, seeing something that to me sets an absolutely frightening, precendent. That the use of new technology, is and has been, to target it for new use as weaponry against, ‘the foe’. The problemmatical issues, have not even been discussed. The people were not informed or asked, whether certain weapons represent something that is good or essential. And how frightening for ‘all’ of ‘us’, that new weaponry, is about rule, not defense of the nation. I am not a Globalist for this reason. I believe in democracy, as the only civilized way forward. When I saw the author Barrett Brown being set up for a jail sentence, and subsequently imprisoned on a plea bargain basis, I also saw, that the whole justice system had been manipulated to deny, a certain, truth from emerging. I am glad, too, that some of the corruption is about to be dealt with, well hopefully. But, imagine, the effect of three and a half years jail, upon a young ambitious mind. His investigative journalism was effectively hilighting, the use of private contracted firms in ‘possible assassinations’. I cannot say for sure, whether ‘assassination’ were carried out, but, with certain movies suggesting the kind of ‘black ops’, that may have already taken place, yes it does bring to mind, that our leaders need more scrutiny, and I would wish for a more honest approach in politics, not a threatening ‘new arena’ not unlike the ancient Colosseum of Rome. Citadels of power need to be scrutinized. It is the job of the FBI, to take issue with irregular behaviour of politicians too.

The Americans often say in God We Trust. But, who is left to be Godly, if all have departed from the faith?

Chicken, rice and broccoli…anyone?

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2016 by kathydasilva
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I am cooking late lunch, having fiddled with computer equipment and then, the hunger hit, and I had to down tools, and eat. And it feels like a Sunday not midweek. I found my mother’s funeral service leaflet amongst all the draw of computer software, and the poem that I had tried to construct for the graveside gathering. I describe my mother as ‘a rose without a sting, or bite’, and cheesy as that might seem it is accurate for the most part. My memoire hopefully will appear in part to show the gentle side of my childhood. When I read about education and part of that reading included a little book by the Montesore education system.  It describes how we remember things, and likens the attainment of knowledge to the lungs breathing in air for the first time.  And it is this that I want to put into the memoire. In essence, there is a reason for feeling a bit empty, or unsure when we are young, as lack of attainment of knowledge, is in part, to blame.  The more I read, as I went along in life, the better my understanding of life became. Socially, we are ‘what we eat’, in terms of knowledge. And I think that shows up a lot when you get people from different backgrounds trying to work side by side, and not really understanding eachother.  It is something I have noticed over the years, and the reason sometimes I felt isolated, when others around me had not really been interested in studying at degree level, but, had taken different paths.  The film story Educating Rita, just comes to mind, that for some people gaining further or higher education, might help them to a better position in life, but the route toward that elixir, of upward mobility, whether that means class or riches, I am not sure. Socially, people become set apart, and sometimes it is not their fault. In the film Rita’s friends change, and she separates from her working class builder husband, to delight in the fruits of her reading and learning. She grew to respect herself a lot more for obtaining a final degree at university. I cannot knock taking the time out for study. And whenever life has been really bad, books take you to another place, and you can find a kind of transcendance to greater things occuring.

My only complaint, I guess is I didn’t go higher! And when I have worked in ordinary jobs, the serious lack of intellectual exchange, has left me often lonely. Not just being alone, but, because, I need now to exercise my mind with people who are at that higher level.  Reading is satisfying but, not enough.  So writing, well it does feel better too, to be doing something, with the knowledge.

I have not summed up the past five years yet. I felt as though I was sinking into a hole, of routine, while working in a library. I still liked to have a salary, but, was not wholly satisfied at all. Serving students really is not teaching, well in some part it is if you sort their problems out with I.T.! I may even have to bow to the greater judgement of others. But, I  am progressing ideas for writing, and it is a bit more entertaining. I need a  high dose of patience.  What a winter’s day.