Archive for God

The Wine Press

Posted in Poetry, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , on January 1, 2017 by kathydasilva

 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The winepress of God’s anger

Was created long ago

Our land our lives,  and now our living

Made the G_ A_ P grow

One night in the autumn in a  dark, dark dream

I saw the state of the present stream

The light over all things was grey like a cloud

The people in bondage the world in a shroud

In a shop down town, in the front of the store

I was like a  future bride  coming through the door

Escalators going up, were going to all floors

Well stocked and overflowing, the devil applauds

I couldn’t hear my footsteps, I couldn’t change the light,

There didn’t seem to be a way out  to join the BLESSED fight

I couldn’t find the exit

Which seemed miles away

I was praying for the dawn, I was praying for the Day

The clothes and carpet muffled every step

The giant padded cell,  that was playing with my head

And here’s the real mad house, not the way we’re led

If people can’t see the dark they are in

And turn away from their eternal sin

Stop all their magic, stop all the gain,

Start to live righteous, stop all the pain

Call in the debt the debt to Man

The God of Love can’t stop the plan.

 

Life Story

Posted in Autobiography, education, politics, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 25, 2016 by kathydasilva

I was remembering parts of the content of a dream, recently, enough to say, that I felt compelled to re-evaluate, the meaning. To search a bit deeper, as to why, certain images appeared, and in doing so, understand the will of my maker, the eternal God, whose birthday is celebrated today. The light coming into the world, as some would say. To explain, and by way of more detailed explanation,   a small but signifcant thing that had occured in my early twenties, when trying after graduating to get a job, and somehow, start the process of progression, away from the dole queue. I had already the creative art ambition, already, practiced some of that ability at the college where I studied, but, my interest in writing, had begat the need to learn, touch typing in order to ‘punch’ out a  book or two at some point. And the most significant thing was a purchase of an electrical typewriter. I had asked my mother and then my father who had  by this  time, begun to live a wholly separate life from my mother, could they help with the purchase. I had begged the money from them, and bought the WH Smith typing course book. This had been recommended to me by my sister Alison. Between all three, I am now touch typing this. I learned to touch type on the electric machine, but, when times were tough and money less forthcoming, I did sell the typewriter to a pawn shop in the Tooting Bec area of London. The pawn shop, was a kind of swap shop, too. But, on this occasion, I took the cash. I was grateful. I did not know how my father, who had probably retired by this point, as I was born, late in my mother’s marriage, when she was about thiry-eight, might have reached down into his heart, and let me have the cash. After all, an electronic type writer might have been at least ninty-nine pounds, at the time. I had relinquished ownership of this wonderfully functioning machine with also a digital editing window, without much thought at the time, but, need for food and other things, had been higher on the list, and I mean the need to eat, and keep, on living. I took a while before employment came my way, but, I had felt sure typing would help me to this end. Computing and wordprocessing were just around the corner, in terms of development and mechanizing of the whole publishing industry. I did the typing course and have not regretted for one moment, as inbetween, different employment, temping and VDU input, were the only possibility of anything, slightly secretarial. I watch people doing the two forefinger effort, and wonder why they do not do the same thing. And now we  have

Padlock with drilled part

Padlock (with drilled part)

hackers.                                                                                                                                                             And now we have thieves of intellectual property. And now, yes, perhaps slowing down invention, might make honest persons of us all? I found my locked cabinet, opened without ‘breakage’ of the lock? I saw the small padlock on my laptop case, had had a hole driven into it, and wonder who would do that? What a sad human. And sad for me, as I still retain, what rights I try and protect over my intellectual property.  This is how horrid our world has become.

My dad, had done a thing which was essential for  my survival. My mother had helped organize that, and my sister, had helped because she cared that I would be able to get a job. And to me that is family. And how sad, now, because all three are with Our heavenly Father. The dream, I will now tell you the dream. I was walking down a wide London street, a clock tower in a parallel road, similar to Big Ben, but, in any case, it was the feeling of a Sunday walk with an elderly parent on my arm. My mother wearing a dog tooth check winter coat. Her right arm, hooked through my left arm, and the unspeakable thing happened. The weather was as normal, the sky quite clear for a winter’s day. But, still, the unspeakable happened. There was an explosion. The buildings in the parallel road, were bursting, or exploding, one after the other in a kind of wave, and my only thoughts were to run with my mother, to shelter, to get out of the open road, to try to protect us both. Where we ended up, was the doorway, that looked not dissimilar to the pawn shop, though a charity shop in Romford does look similar equally. But, listen, the windows were empty, and the shop had no lights on, probably because it was a Sunday. I sheltered there, but, in the air, and remember this is only a dream, was the voice of Johnny Depp, saying ‘Let go of your mother’. I am not sure why, but, Johnny Depp, spent some time in London whilst filming a few things. I am not sure, why, but, as I looked, all that remained of my mother, was the bit of her right arm, that was hooked through my left. The blast must have been nuclear. The tragic image, was as bad, as I could imagine. Why had I survived, well God had said, I had signed for peace. I signed a petition, at Greenbelt festivals year 2002, against our country invading Iraq. It is the oddest thing, but, now too, God is trying hard to speak to us all. I vote left wing in the elections for I personally believe in helping the poor in the most logical sense of dividing wealth evenly, as evenly as is possible without taking the wind out of the sails of industry.  The prophecy, is continued, in my own life. This year, I have been severely injured, in a car accident. An unmarked police vehicle in Ilford, ran me down on a crossing, it was going the wrong way down a one way lane. I have suffered a fractured right ankle and also the wheel ran over my toes, my falanges, or bones in my feet are still not right.  The  honest people must take heed and do what is right, and take up your cross. But, it is still on my mind that closed down shop. The place I sold my electronic type writer, and the whole, thing that parents do which is bolster and help, at personal sacrifice to their own needs.

I started my own personal search for expression, at a very young age. But, most significantly, was my discovery at an age of independence of the author John Steinbeck, and then from about art school onward, there was a veritable fountain of suggestions. History is very helpfully noted down and documented when writing novels. Indeed in a hundred years time, I am sure writing will still be as relevant and as important, as the time of Thomas Hardy and Charles Dickens. We need a voice to take to task, illumined screens and computer/gadget madness. Thank God there is a poetry revival in tow country wide.

NB To budding authors….

Will Self types his first drafts to his novels on an old fashioned non-electric typewriter.

 

Dante’s Vision…

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2015 by kathydasilva

Mist through window

‘Midway on our life’s journey, I found myself  in dark woods, the right road lost’….Dante’s Inferno

Like Dante’s descent into hell, where tortured souls finally reveal the reason for their presence there, an analysis of the current times and the ‘actors’ involved in today’s performances, would reveal the intricate and damning, state of our era. Why this vision? Why does Dante take all of us on that journey, some call an allegory?

When you try to analyse degrees of injustice, when you try to see through the mire of perhaps decades of planning, of businesses that have escaped, tax payments, and the rich who seek only to stay away from the burden of egalitarian politics. There it is staring at you. The fact that all the different individual’s in our society have only their own plans before them. What we do with a lifetime, how we manage our life on this earth will depend on what values, and what kind of love we were in receipt of during our childhood. And God set us free. Free and independent of His presence, to see how we perform, to see if we would turn back and to see if we might seek Him, out of our own free will. We are not enslaved to Him, unless we choose to be.

‘Through me the way into the suffering city, through me the way to the eternal pain, through me the way that runs among the lost’ …Dante’s Inferno

So instead of acting on conscience most of us, potter, or speed along with no idea how damaging, or uncreative we are, sometimes. We seem to always need prompts, where our conscience is concerned. Only ‘do good’ if, they ‘do good’ to you, some might say. And blow the rest of mankind? And what happens if we all choose that possibility of hard nailed determination no matter the cost? So there is no mercy, shown, for fear of some financial compromise.

‘My maker was divine authority, the highest wisdom’…Dante’s Inferno

It’s like the oil business, well any big industrial business, how many times, does planet earth suffer, until after many mistakes, spills, and explosions, do we choose to stop! Well never? BP, tried drilling where the crust was known to be thin in the Gulf of Mexico, and what happened. Ask the people of Florida and you will get the answer. A very big environmental mess, occurred, to beaches, wildlife conservation areas, and it’s true that there is an effort to clean, but this takes a long time. People, who are they? The ones manipulating market forces? Who are they, playing like Russian roulette with ‘our’ lives? Who will be hit next? And this is what has occurred to me. That if you felt powerful enough because of your wealth and believed there was no higher authority than yourself, then it would be an easy thing to think that getting rid of opponents need not have to be such a burden. So the devil in those people, has risen like some wild beast upon our present day. And all at the bequest of the ‘state’? I don’t want to think this is true. But, it would take the authority of people at the highest part of government surely to put a black ops into action. Or a mafia. So who is responsible for the events, that seem tied together by date code? Assassinations, silently, pervading the calm of our regular lives. We hear someone has mysteriously died, by drug overdose, or some armed robbery, the villain shooting all the family? The victims? Aaron Swartz, internet hacktivist, who felt public-duty enough to campaign for freedom of movement and rights of everyone on the internet. Apparently ‘took his own life’? Barnaby Jack, found overdosed with drugs, a week before an important conference and talk he was due to give. Barnaby was from New Zealand, a famed computer hacker professionally, who researched internet security. The creator of Grey State, David Crowley, and his family were found dead in their home in Minnesota, just recently. Grey State, a film whose subject was life under martial law with strict state control of everything. Charlie Hebdo’s magazine, four of the best cartoonist/satirists, shot dead, by apparently a band of extremists. Any one that seems to speak out, and confront the wrongs it would seem in society.

‘I reached a place where every light is muted, which bellows like the sea beneath a tempest….The hellish hurricane, which never rests, drives on the spirits with its violence: wheeling and pounding, it harasses them..…..Dante’s Inferno

Should we be afraid? Thankfully when you see the support and anger shown by the French, last week that four million marched to La Place de la Republique, I feel heartened to think the vast majority of the populace would not take this kind of action lying down.

Barrett Brown, sits in the court room today, tolerating, what I consider a system in turmoil. The fact that he spent two years in jail without trial seemed bad enough. I feel anger his rights were not protected two years ago sufficiently to allow for bail, and it seems because they fear he was a hacker, and capable of theft, this may have been the reason for his detention, without the right to access computers. His writing career, seems almost on hold, although he has been allowed to publish some articles, it seems, but, certainly, the refusal of the state to allow him near a computer says something.

What can the ordinary ‘citizen’ do? And it is probably the best thing to become a little more consumed with who a person should vote for and just what is being offered to the people. Grace is really the only answer in any situation the invisible good force of grace. But, again, I would have to turn to my God, and do the prayer needed, maybe fasting also, who knows?

I think the ‘thinking people’, need to definitely join together in support, every time one of our number is accused, or challenged beyond what would seem reasonable. To keep the press free, to keep speech free, and to honor everyone’s right to live in a properly democratic society. Yes the people have a right to their own opinion.