Art Class In Miranda’s Art Class it didn’t take long for all the skeletons to emerge from their corners and cupboards. We let them join in posing or painting always revealing it all. https://mugwortmag.wordpress.com/
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Where Equivalence Goes To Die We soon found out that Native Americans were the bad guys. We watched the Hollywood portrayals of the cowardly braves deserving of death and the brave, honest settlers who rightly prevailed. If propaganda is successful it won’t even be recognised. And successful it was for a long time. That is not to say that all ‘indians’ were good people, that they never committed atrocities or preached hatred and abuse. But the power was so disproportionate that they could be no equivalence. The scales were already tipping over. To pretend balance was possible would be a distortion. Then there were the Nazi’s. No one now thinks that their arguments of superiority, of paranoia and racism should find an open ear. But ears were open then. Wide open. And eyes were closed to enslavement, starvation and death. That is not to say that all Jews, Slavs and gypsies were good people, that they never committed atrocities or preached hatred and abuse. But the power was ...
Aftermath How can it be that someone I don't see, only think about sometimes, but never contact, or try to, leaves such a gap, in their final leaving. My life has not been changed. All is the same. So why the difference now that you're really in the past, when you were already part of my past and not of my future. Nothing has changed for me, not really, not in reality. So why do you occupy my thoughts in a different way. Why does my future feel different now you cannot be part of it, even though you never would be and I knew it. Perhaps because I can no longer dream you there. But why not when you could never be there and I knew it the same then, as I know now. Why is it different, now even to dream? https://hotelmasticadoreshouse.wordpress.com/2026/06/08/aftermath-by-lynn-white/
Democracy Hey, we’ve got a new government! (though Belgium managed with out any for nearly two years). Some of us elected them. We can all listen to their speeches and see their photos now. What an opportunity this presents! Hey, we’ve got a new government! (though Belgium managed without any for nearly two years). They have a large majority. What an opportunity this presents! Hey, we’ve got a new government! (though Belgium managed without any for nearly two years). They only have a small majority and won’t be able to change much but we can listen to their speeches and see their photos still. Hey, we’ve got a government! though Belgium did manage without any for nearly two years. https://www.unlikelystories.org/content/me-and-mr-monroe-and-democracy
Me And Mr Monroe You wonder where next. Gaza, or Greenland, just follow the gas, so some say. But Monroe and me say Mexico. Don-roe and they say Mexico. Gaza and Greenland are just chips in the deal. You can bet your bottom dollar, it’s Mexico, say Monroe and me. And then it’s the time of Don-roe and they All doors open, north and south. Canada, Columbia, Cuba, Greenland… and then we can only wait and see. https://www.unlikelystories.org/content/me-and-mr-monroe-and-democracy
When Black Became Beautiful When black became beautiful Braithwaite powered the way. His panthers on catwalks pictured modeling a movement in clothes in hair in skin. Black became beautiful in images by Kwame models of Grandassa ideas of Garvey. Art fashioned politics. Politics fashioned music, fashionable music soulful music music of movement protest, blues, jazz then reggae and rap keeping black intact keeping black beautiful. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Vh6OQAJHDINmbpPWr2Xh_SicJR_QU58h/view
We had a theory back then - drivers were more likely to pick up hitchhikers carrying a small suitcase than a bulky rucksack. It worked like a dream, a cardboard case of dreams that we carried inside and out. We revelled in the excitement of it. Usually we were directonless, always without maps or money, using our meagre annual leave, unpaid leave and time between jobs. We travelled for the sake of it, for the love of different languages, cultures, the wonderful people encountered on the way, and even to even a country that no longer exists, destroyed as it was by war and its aftermath. Yesterday I came across it again, my old suitcase buried in a heap of debris in my attic. It was battered from its long travels and even longer vacation. Its cardboard was torn and frayed as a dream waiting to be carried away. Memories buried in the debris of the past now recovered unwrapped like a present in the present. https://poetsonline.org/archive/arch_trave...