Going to Hell in a Handcart

Someone I know very well is apt to tell me that we are all going to Hell in a handcart and there’s no point making a fuss about it. Years ago he told me that we had already reached the climate tipping point and that at some point conflict in the Middle East would destroy us all so we should visit places while we can and eat what we like. I dare not tell you how he used to earn his living but at least one of those cheery statements of his put the fear of God in me whenever he uttered it.

Despite his gloomy assessment of the state of things, I try to practise hope as an act of resistance and to do things to assist in the seemingly hopeless endeavour to make the world a good place for everyone. Huh. How dumb am I? How sad?

Very sad, actually. I’m not sure if sadness is better or worse than the incandescent rage I feel every time I read, watch or listen to the news. I am angered by the way what is happening in the world is curated for us. Even Glastonbury, for God’s sake. You can’t say this, you can’t sing that because Trump, Netanyahu or some other king of the world gets upset and nukes us, tariffs us or cuts off the water supply. What kind of nut jobs are we to acquiesce to this? And so, I am reduced to shouting at Channel 4 News and writing poetry. Here’s a couple. Have a nice Sunday.

Krisnan on Channel 4 News Tries To Interview

An Israeli Representative

Good evening from Jerusalem,

we can report tonight that in fact

there is no shortage of food

in Gaza, the problem is actually

a surplus of people.

We are addressing this.

I wonder if you can explain-

Don’t interrupt-

But

Whatever it is you want to say is -

How -

Don’t interrupt-

People want to know -

No. No. No.

Your media is anti-Semitic.

I have told you already, there is

No shortage of food, no lack of

safe spaces, there is purely,

simply a surplus of people.

We are addressing that.

We are addressing that -

How -

We only kill Hamas.

But there are doctors who

speak, who tell us about

the awful deaths of children,

so many children.

They are only pretending

to be children-

We only kill Hamas.

Riot

We make a ruin of ourselves,

brick by hefted brick;

hurl hated-filled hearts

against the innocent glass

of shop windows, rejoice

in shattering.

Fury displaces rationality,

gathers in the throat like phlegm

until we throw back our heads,

open our mouths and spit.

Every gobbet incites a flame,

burns down the house in which

we say we want to live.