A wee poem lifted from Molly’s Blog. where you can read the fulll story.

“Imagine there’s no freedom
It’s easy if you try.
All proles below us
We can do it on the sly
Imagine all the wages
Much lower than today

You may say I’m a tyrant
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
As consultant 901

Imagine there’s no unions
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing but planes and prisons
And no high pensions too
Imagine all lower people
Living life in debt


Imagine there’s no welfare
I wonder if you can
No need for medicare
Woman once more under man
Imagine all the people
Working for $10 a day


ann arky’s home.



      Almost a week of sparkling, entertaining, informative, stimulating, provocative, thought provoking, events. A chance to meet up with old associates and meet new friends, create new networks, meet like minded people, or just enjoy yourself. Come along, you’ll never know what you’ve missed if you don’t.

Document 8 :

 *International Human Rights Documentary Film Festival *

26th to 31st October 2010     CCA, Glasgow,   Full Programme:

Associated events, include:

Radical Independent Bookfair (RiB) @ Doc8  Full Programme:     

City Strolls @ RiB
Hang out and chat about what is going on in the city, or what else could
be going on.

Doc8 : a night of agit pop

Thur 28 Oct 2010 : 9pm onwards : CCA Terrace Bar
a frivolously refreshing night of ‘political’ pop

Michael Albert @ RiB

“Participatory Economics” (Parecon)
Friday 29th October, 1pm Details:

Doc8,  The Immediate Broth Presents…

Three films interrogating the juncture between the subject,
and an urban environment ever more subordinate to the marketplace.
Neil Gray / Sacha Kahir / Nick e Melville
Saturday 30th October, 1.15pm

PEN Showcase @ Doc8

Readings from Document 8 PEN writing workshops
Allison Miller, Tom Leonard
Sunday 31 October, 8pm

ann arky’s home.


“Making A Difference” web has just gone live.

Making A Difference, Stories from the Fight Against Poverty in

Will be showcased at Document 8
30 Sep
Chance to see Simon Yuills film “Given to the People” at Galgael on Thursday 30 September 2010 Free
29th Sep
And those who brought you STREETLAND bring you:

Invitation to STREETLAND 2011  public meeting. Let’s get this baby walking and talking….

Time: September 29, 2010 from 7pm to 8:30pm
Location: Alpha Learning Academy
Organized By: Streetland team:

Event Description:
Yes, it’s that time of year when we start planning the next STREETLAND festival and we invite you to join in the ideas, discussions and offer the chance to get involved in the event itself, all over soup and samosas. Oh yes!

please feel free to let other folks know and come down, this is where is gets interesting…..

See more details and RSVP on Streetland:

If your email program doesn’t recognize the web address above as an active link,
please copy and paste it into your web browser

ann arky’s home.



 See the fat cat’s grinning smile

as Corporate Capitalism runs amok, 

Chasing profit as it goes 

firing millions of ordinary folk. 

Raping and polluting land after land, 

starting bloody wars. 

Toxic waste, sweat shop wages 

and oil covered sea shores. 

Where have all the flowers gone 

beneath this ozone free sky? 

To join the birds, to join the fox 

on yonder plutonium field to die. 

Mercury fish, strontium lamb 

trees that never show a leaf, 

radio active beaches, toxic streams 

good lean BSE-antibiotic beef. 

In a world of epidemic, plague and famine 

it’s bottled water and chemical food. 

Of course, it’s all tested on rats and mice 

so you know its got to be good. 

Beneath a sky that’s always black, 

hurricane winds and endless drought, 

its oxygen masks for the toxic air, 

corporate profit’s what its all about.

       Of course it doesn’t need to be like that, we have a choice. We can continue to let the corporate world run amok, polluting and plundering to further enrich the parasite millionaire shareholders or we can say, enough is enough and put an end to this insanity they call capitalism.

        A fairer sustainable world is possible but only if we take control of our own lives and organise society to see to the needs of all our people. Destroy this system that has become the destroyer of the planet. and create a society based on mutual aid and sustainability freed from the greed driven profit motive.

ann arky’s home. 





        It is odd that people should accept the state even although history tells us that, despite its vociferous and strenuous propaganda to the contrary, the state is the longest running, most experienced, most skilled, most copious purveyors in that ancient and intricate art of terror, in the long and tortured history of man.

       Ever since the first government was formed, terror has been an accepted weapon for keeping the people in line. Never for the benefit of the people in the line, but for those who wish to keep them there. The few rule the many and since it is against the interests of the many, the few need the weapon of terror to protect their little profitable cabal. It would therefore seem obvious that if we wish to free ourselves from the the ever present anticipation and results of terror, we have to first and foremost get rid of the greatest source of terror, the state, and its mouthpiece, government.


 Politicians living a life of opulence

paid for by other men’s dreams,

add to the lexicon of humanity’s suffering

weaving their selfish grandiose schemes.

Abusing privileges, grasping at wealth

egos blown like a hot air balloon,

preaching our poverty will bring

prosperity for all———-soon.

We tighten our belt another notch

accepting a beggarly slice of the cake,

while they bask in a cherry orchard

surrounded by a fine wine lake.

Pouring words, grand posturing,

as they unveil their latest plan,

assuring they live in luxury

while we struggle as best we can.

Poverty’s the price for allowing

others to plan our days,

when will we finally grasp

this is the way of slaves.

ann arky’s home.



       Some of my friends are unemployed and receive £65 a week to live on and of course as anybody with half a brain cell knows it can’t be done. They’re part of a growing army of young and older people, who are going to join the ranks of those who need to rely on charity. Welcome to 21st century Victorian Britain. Living in these sort of conditions has a pattern, what happens next? Well of course their physical health starts to suffer, because they have to save on food to pay electric and gas bills and replace the odd thing that wears out. Then the social life goes out the window and depression can set in and we all know that the Cameron-Clegg plan for the health service means that they will get virtually no help from that source. So what should they do? Simple sit alone and let themselves suffer in silence, letting the millionaire club get it all its own way? No, they need to organise with the employed and pensioners to stop this vicious attack on the living standards of the working class. It is time to realise that this is an all out class war struggle, as far as the corporate world is concerned, the gloves are off. Likewise it is time that the ordinary people of this society acted accordingly. The niceties of empty illusions being woven by the millionaire class while the hack us to pieces has to be met with the brutality of an all out onslaught of the working class to defend ourselves and change society for once and for all to a society that sees to the needs of all its people. We cannot compromise on the future of our kids, we have an obligation to hand our kids a world better than the one we have.


The problem’s too big
the perpetrators unknown
you can’t beat the system
all on your own.
So it’s easy to withdraw
find your own little cage
turn a blind eye to the suffering
stifle your rage,
but the greed goes on
the poverty’s still there,
you can’t just leave it
for your children to bear.
Others feel as you do
eager to put things right
but locked in isolation
it’s a hopeless fight,
so don’t sit in silence
behind a closed door,
your voice can help raise
a whisper to a roar.

ann arky’s home.



      Recently in Glasgow we have had a spate of school closures and campaigns to save them. This in turn sent my prowling through some old anarchist material and I came across some bits and pieces from 1996 that highligts that nothing ever changes on the agenda of the ruling class. It is always the same attack, cut spending on the needs of the ordinary people.

      The peom below was written during such a campaign in 1996 by Freddie Anderson, Irish born Glasgow based anarchist, poet, playwrite and activist. Freddie was born 11 September 1922 and died 10 December 2001.


Whenever misrule grabs state power

and keeps in bond the nation,

the foremost of its great misdeeds

are cuts in education

for learning is a noble thing

and in its grans pursuit

we throw old predudice aside

and seek to find the Ttruth.

So those who shut our school-house doors

do so with vile intent

be they local councillors

or a gangster government,

they’ll blame each other endlessly

for crimes they common share,

conveniently forgetting that

two must make a pair.

Now who are the bigger vandals

the louts who burn our schools

or the scoundrels who just close the down

according to the rules.


ann arky’s home.





The bike just sits there,

dust covering its lovely sheen,

puffing up the Fintry Hills

well, it’s no longer my scene.

Y’see, as a Clydeside apprentice

I proudly learnt the tradesman’s skill,

little did I know then

the price, asbestos lungs that kill.

Now I just sit here through the painful day

gasping each mouthful of air, wondering

how can I make the bastards pay.

They new it was a killer

a time-bomb in our lungs

but, because it was so quick and cheap

they firmly held their tongues.

So what, if it cost the workman’s life,

there’s always a couple of new workers

in the care of the worker’s wife.

Please try to understand my anger

as I and others bear their cost,

a slow death from asbestos lungs,

a vibrant life lost.

Anguish for family and friends,

all in the name of profit;

now that really does offend.

Our anger without direction

is a blind archer behind the bow,

we have to use our anger

to smash the status-quo.

Perhaps making my dying public,

might provoke righteous indignation

at a system that puts profit

before the health of a nation.

ann arky’s home





Acclaim Arrogant Absolutes.

Bellow Bygone Beliefs.

Casuist Cackling Cabal.

Deadly Divine Dogma.

Embellish Earlier Errors.

Form Fearful Fundamentalists.

Gaily Gabble Gehenna.

Hype Holy Hate.

Ignorantly Idolise Illusion.

Justify Judgmental Jargon.

Knowingly Kindle Kulturkampf.

Lambaste Liberal Learning.

Machiavellian Mind Moulding.

Narrate Nescient Nostrum.

Obligatory Obnoxious Obfuscation.

Peremptory Pestiferous Panjandrum.

Quickly Quell Querists.

Redundant Reactionary Rants.

Suppress Scholastic Scepticism.

Totally Trammel Tolerance.

Ululate Useless Utterances.

Vaticinate Vicious Vengeance.

Wailing Wearisome Waffle.

xtol ‘xcessive ‘xaltation.

y? ‘y? ‘y?

Zany Zealous Zealots.

ann arky’s home.




Power, fame and fortune

society’s driving dreams.

I, ME, PLC.,

perpetually recurring themes.



Commerce must prevail

profit the only aim,

mutual co-operation labelled

rambling’s of the insane.



Crusading moral cripples

set the political direction,

the following humble mass

receive a life of dereliction.



Old men declare war

youth must fight and die.

Generals take the podium

while soldiers bleed and cry.

ann arky’s home.




 As the West grows fat

the Third World squirms and dies,

poverty devours their tomorrows

while the West swims in a sea of lies.

Look, see their lacerated lives,

their pot bellies and spindle limbs

with hands stretching out towards you?

They’re not begging,

they’ve earned the right to demand.

Their poverty has kept us fat and warm

as we shaded our eyes from the light of reality,

well, now they’re demanding.

Demanding we wake from our soft slumber

see their suffering, grasp their hand,

pull them from the blood sucking morass of poverty

inflicted on them by our sightless greed.

Our blindness stole their dad’s bowl of rice

our lassitude slew their brother

our flights of fashion starved their sister

our arrogance maimed their mother.

ann arky’s home.





Money walked in

with promises.

Built factories,

handed out,

among other problems,

silicosis, pneumoconiosis, asbestosis.

Due to progress

plans changed.

New promises emerged.

Nuclear reactors arrived

spraying people with radiation.

When the switches were thrown

and the lights came on

the suits,

(living far away from reactors)

smiled with pride.

Meanwhile doctors

treating leukaemia, tumours, cancer,

tightened their own straight-jackets

as the Health Service

went bankrupt.

ann arky’s home.



I am fire,

I surge, I hiss,

sometimes bursting forth in a flame

that lights up the world

illuminating unimagined dreams.

Then the black cloak

blankets out the glow.

Again all is dark,

but, still

beneath the surface

I surge, I hiss,

I endure, waiting, seeking,

building up pressure.

One day I will explode

destroying forever

the Tartarean crust of oppression.

I am fire,

I am the people.

ann arky’s home.




The 20th century man

In 1918, I, a man of the 20th century, ordered 10,000 men

like me over the top. A similar man, on the other side,

ordered machine guns, howitzers, and mortars to fire.

He had to stop my men.

He did. Few of them returned. And most of them – like me –

were scarred in mind for life.

I did it. He did it. His Emperor did it. My President did it.

Our Stone Age ancestors did it.

In a hundred days I sent a thousand bombers across the Channel

to blow apart and incinerate my fellow man, just as some of them

had gassed and burned to ashes many more of my fellow man.

They did it. We did it. I did it.

And you know something? I wasn’t even born when I sent

my fellow man to death at Belleau Wood;

and only a child when I rained fire on Hamburg.

But as certain as I live today, I did it.

Years later, when I am gone, when others bemoan

the slaughter at Verdun, the fiery atomization of Hiroshima,

the disembowelment of Vietnam, the consuming fireballs of 9-11,

death grants me no rest, because if others don’t know him,

I know the 20th century man behind those horrors.

If it could, my earth bound fleshless jaw, bone grating against bone,

would try to form these words:

I – did – it.

Robert W Proctor  November 2002

More anti-war poems HERE.


ann arky’s home.



The Ultimate Battle.The Ultimate Battle.


See the fat cat’s grinning smile

as Corporate Capitalism runs amok,

Chasing profit as it goes

firing millions of ordinary folk.

Raping and polluting land after land,

starting bloody wars.

Toxic waste, sweat shop wages

and oil covered sea shores.

Where have all the flowers gone

beneath this ozone free sky?

To join the birds, to join the fox

on yonder plutonium field to die.

Mercury fish, strontium lamb

trees that never show a leaf,

radio active beaches, toxic streams

good lean BSE-antibiotic beef.

In a world of epidemic, plague and famine

it’s bottled water and chemical food.

Of course, it’s all tested on rats and mice

so you know its got to be good.

Beneath a sky that’s always black,

hurricane winds and endless drought,

its oxygen masks for the toxic air,

corporate profit’s what its all about.




I want to believe

All that is good is out there

Sleeping in hearts that live in dark valleys,

About to blossom like some magic woodland,

In spite of war, in spite of greed

The essence that is humanity struggling to be free.

All around death arrives in many guises,

Silent as the frost poverty kills,

The ruthless march of war

With every drum beat seeks God’s blessing,

While the God fearing kill the God fearing,

Slaughter in the name of the greater good.

I want to believe

All that is good is out there

Sleeping in the hearts that live in dark valleys

About to blossom like some magic woodland,

Not just as the dream of poets.

ann arky’s home.