22 people gathered at the cherry tree in St. George's Church graveyard, Deal in Kent which was planted by the Deal Branch of the United Nations Association to commemorate the bombing so many years ago. The act ot remembrance started around 1040 and was interrupted by rude seagulls and a church clock.
I felt sad as we sat in a circle among the stiffs. There was poetry, music, and the reading of a statement which the group would send to the Prime Sinister to tell him what a thoughtless fellow he must be to allow nuclear proliferation and a new generation of atomic weapons. All the usual suspects were present, and most of them were the ones that turn up year after year on August 6.
An old man read one of his poems, which was very moving. Here I sat in this circle of apparent sanity whilst all outside seemed indifferent at best and callously cynical at worst. Of what real use are CND and CAAT, worthy statements and hopeful words, when the people in power and control don't give a shit? Apart from a photo opportunity for Dover/Deal's old New Labour socialist MP Gwyn Prosser, the local sheepish political mediocrity and cheerleader for Anglo-American Imperialism, what use is there in having a permanent plaque there in future as a memorial in the graveyard? Is no-one aware of the irony of getting him to unveil a plaque when any member of the Labour Party with an ounce of self-respect should have deserted it long ago? When the government he represents is the most reactionary and far right one within living memory? Is irony dead?
Problems of form and content again. The form: 'photo opportunity for MP. Content: perhaps he can simulate the pretence of giving a shit whilst knowing that his Lord and Master Tony B. and those He serves simply don't give a damn about any of this worthy sentimental humanitarian bullshit that these groups reheat year after year.
If I believed in The Lord any more, I would pray fervently: Kyrie Eleison. Lord have mercy upon us and deliver us from such evil times. The world turns on its dark side. It is winter. Michael Tippett's words from 'A child Of Our Time' ring very true today.
I felt sad as we sat in a circle among the stiffs. There was poetry, music, and the reading of a statement which the group would send to the Prime Sinister to tell him what a thoughtless fellow he must be to allow nuclear proliferation and a new generation of atomic weapons. All the usual suspects were present, and most of them were the ones that turn up year after year on August 6.
An old man read one of his poems, which was very moving. Here I sat in this circle of apparent sanity whilst all outside seemed indifferent at best and callously cynical at worst. Of what real use are CND and CAAT, worthy statements and hopeful words, when the people in power and control don't give a shit? Apart from a photo opportunity for Dover/Deal's old New Labour socialist MP Gwyn Prosser, the local sheepish political mediocrity and cheerleader for Anglo-American Imperialism, what use is there in having a permanent plaque there in future as a memorial in the graveyard? Is no-one aware of the irony of getting him to unveil a plaque when any member of the Labour Party with an ounce of self-respect should have deserted it long ago? When the government he represents is the most reactionary and far right one within living memory? Is irony dead?
Problems of form and content again. The form: 'photo opportunity for MP. Content: perhaps he can simulate the pretence of giving a shit whilst knowing that his Lord and Master Tony B. and those He serves simply don't give a damn about any of this worthy sentimental humanitarian bullshit that these groups reheat year after year.
If I believed in The Lord any more, I would pray fervently: Kyrie Eleison. Lord have mercy upon us and deliver us from such evil times. The world turns on its dark side. It is winter. Michael Tippett's words from 'A child Of Our Time' ring very true today.