Our Clipped Wings Provide A Shield of Steel.
On the safe reopening of our Demockratic Parliament.
Funny how when we age we wallow in the comforts of things we protested about when we were young. The rape and pillage of the Earth, the racism, the deflections, the corruption of democratic process, we were once so determined we would not allow to happen again – at least on our watch – become a fluffy blanket in which to insulate our final years. God damn the submarines! Plough on, plough on!
No better proof, that those of us over the age of 35, should not be permitted to frame a glorious future on our kids behalf.
I wake this morning to the shrill calling of another GetUp campaign; this time telling me about the hard won fight we fought, not to supply the world with our children’s Uranium. The rights, that us uncles, and aunts, fathers and mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers, took onto our streets to force non-representative government to listen to. To make sure that our darling off-spring wouldn’t carry the weight of their predecessors sins too heavily upon their consciences. Ah, but that was then .. when we were young and free. Now, when we are old, and tied in chains to the dirty investments of neoliberal progress, when we have comfortably built our little worlds, and can stare vacantly into our own gloried sunsets, we wallow contentedly in our new found criminal complacency. Behold! We rest, and admire the great works we have done …and shake our heads at the ignorance of youthful dreams.
We rest, in the safety that our kids are too scared to get out and hold us to our youthful values. How lucky we are to know, that now, like coal, our uranium is as safe as our pristine shore is isolated. Yes kids, this is as good as it gets. This is the wisdom of age that overrides the knowledge of science and the false worries of those who have yet to achieve such wisdom.
Ah, Gladys, not too busy to play the games by which you seek to stop the world where you, you ancient harpy, are happy with it? God damn the torpedoes – plough on, plough on!
“Tranquility, a cheerful retreat, pleasant fields, bright skies, murmuring brooks, peace of mind, these are the things that go far to make even the most barren muses fertile, and bring into the world births that fill it with wonder and delight.” – Miguel de Cervantes.