Waiting at Machynlleth Station

 

Waiting at Machynlleth Station

I’ve always wanted to put ‘Machynlleth’ in a poem

because its very hard to pronounce

and I do like to see people struggle, tripping over the ch and the ll.

Life is hell when you are waiting at Machynlleth Station

Flooding on the tracks at Dyfi Junction.

Well if you will build your railway next to an Estuary.

There’s parking at Bow Street mun!

Cletwr Café is a request stop.

There is a Comedy Festival for those in need of a paid, artificial laugh.

In the seat of Owain Glyndŵr's Parliament

Lycra clad cyclists on their way to Dylife to be beheaded.

The Hippies are here.

Preaching to old Welsh Farmers that re-wilding is good for their chakra.

A Bus on diesel leaves for London to protest our extinction.

Rebellion?

 mae’n hen bryd cael gwrthryfel yn y dref farchnad lawn Brummies.

Passing through?

I wish.

No, I’m waiting at Machynlleth Station.

The age of the bogey man

https://culanth.org/fieldsights/time-of-monsters 

"A monster speaking with the voice of reason, not the heart; science, not pathos; realism, not faith or idealism."

We are living through the age of the bogey man bois bach. The bwci-bo. This time, the adults are not using the carrot to beat children with the behaviour stick. This time, similar to Germany in the 1930s we are seeing the othering of people. From refugees and asylum seekers to members of the trans community. Russia & China are back in the news as the global, international bogey men. Israel continues to beat Palestine into submission on a daily basis. 

It is easier when citizens are facing difficult economic decisions and situations. We are in a perfect storm of austerity and it is easier then for malevolent forces to stoke up culture wars, prejudice and appeal to our darker shadow. 

Who knew that there was such a noticeable landmark as the Holiday Inn in Cannock, Staffordshire? The Holiday Inn, the Hotel of Hate. Braverman's boot boys, the Patriotic Alternative have groomed Tracey and Caz who didn't know what Fascism was until they arrived. They couldn't even create a Facebook page. I have just de-activated mine.

You can understand why governments would wish to push the bogey man agenda. To keep us in our place, to keep us well behaved. The bogey-man of Brexit, the bogey-man of Covid, the bogey-man of refugees and asylum seekers and before I enrage the mens' rights movements the bogey-man is non gender specific. The bogey-person could be our anima or animus.

From the Salem & Pendle Witch Hunts, from the McArthyite House of UnAmerican Activities we don't need much excuse to go out with our flaming torch, pitchfork and placard to exorcise our own bogey-man of Communist Witches. Much of what we observe in human behaviour around the othering of the bogey-man is projection and fear. Our limbic system has got used to the sub-standard of living in our British and American homes and we don't want anybody from another cave coming along and taking a piece of our inaction.

Here in Wales we have our very own Anti-Trans Hate Preachers who use their heads and not their hearts to 'other' the Trans Community with a variety of intellectual and pseudo-scientific arguments. The biggest argument that these hate preachers use is the bogey-man of being woke. They see that the trans community are much more likely than them to feel compassion, empathy and kindness so they are othered as sexual and criminal deviants who are coming for our wives and our children.

Perhaps Patriotic Alternative should consider changing their name to Paedophile Alternative. Those who scream the loudest about paedophilia are obviously exorcising the dark bogey-man at the back of their own subconscious. Projection occurs when people cannot deal with their own feelings and then project it on to others. The Metropolitan Police are struggling with racism, sexism and homophobia because we as a society are just that, despite what liberal, lefty wokerati may claim.("Labels, everybody needs good labels"🎵) 

We are living in the time of monsters many of which we are creating in our own minds. Physician, heal thyself.               

Instead of buying a second hand car I'll write a poem

 

Instead of buying a second hand car
I’ll write a poem 

Wanted

Something ‘reliable’ to get me from A to B

to do some shopping or go away on a trip

I’m not paying for mod cons

I don’t want anything slick

It’s as if the car and the garage on Autotrader

know that it’s me.

The man who has had no luck with cars since passing his test

I don’t know why I bother, I should give it a rest.

I’ve had a Morris Minor and an Austin 1300

a Mini and a Metro, a Ford Escort and a Vauxhall Nova

a Citroen ZX and a Mazda Demio

They’ve broken down and been broken into

I bought a brand new Renault Clio because I got a job

then had to give it back when I had the sack.

I always blamed the car but maybe it was me and my mind

My temperament and road rage

turned the car into wheels with a cage.

I felt imprisoned in a traffic jam as if it would never clear

I drove everywhere in a cloud of fear.

So now that I am much older

and the weather’s been that much colder

I’m looking for something to replace my legs and a bike

Maybe I should go back to my first vehicle

and invest in a Trike.    

Further Reading

https://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.com/2016/07/the-great-british-pubic.html

 

'Stop all the Boats, Labour wont'

Stop all the boats, Labour wont Prevent the refugees and asylum seekers from Perfidious Albion, With Dog Whistle and with Braverman Bring out the coffins for those who have drowned. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky 'POPULIST CONSERVATISM IS DEAD' Tory Ministers sit down to watch Match of the Day, There's a new presenter with not a lot to say. They come from the South and the East We in the the North and West think that we are best, It's noon, it's midnight, there's talk and song; The protestors outside the hotel in Knowsley were wrong. The stars are looking down on desperate ones; Under the moon the people smugglers come; as they make their way through the ocean on pieces of wood Nigel Farage and his loud haler are up to no good. With apologies to W H Auden