TONY ON BURN UP, STORM & MORE

Including Manic Monday and ReadWritePoem.
Have you had a go yet?

Welcome to my Monday Magazine post.
Following one of the worst Labour losses in a By-election in decades, rumours are filling the UK media of the end days for the ‘esteemed leader’, Gordon Brownski. A man who never smiled, he seems to have a permanent one now – which is worrying in itself.

He is a disaster of a Prime Minister.

His incompetence is finally clear, and he is also unlucky, which should seal his fate. And as MPs go off for their summer breaks, the country awaits their return in the Autumn, and a round of politics as good as anything Machiavelli could have invented.
It will be interesting to see if he survives as leader until Christmas. But don’t take the Conservative’s cry for an election seriously. The last thing they want is to get in power now. Not with a recession coming. Brit politics should be interesting soon.

BBC2 screened an interesting thriller last week in Burn Up.

Starring Rupert Penry-Jones and Marc Warren, it was from the Spooks team, and concerned everything oil. I won’t give away the plot, ‘cos it may be being screened overseas.
Suffice to say, I found it excellent, and it ranged through all our fears of an oil-based economy. But one message near the end is worth pointing out. And yes, I know it was only fiction. But interesting nonetheless. Of course, if you don’t want to know, don’t read the last paragraph.
Basically, the US government secretly accepts man-made global warming, and are encouraging it. The military option for world domination is too expensive. So let environmental chaos wreck economies, countries and cut back on populations. Being the most powerful, the US administration will be the last man standing, and domination will be complete.
Rubbish, of course, but a thought. How many super-rich megalomaniacs secretly harbouring this thought would it take for things to turn out this way?
Tuesday, an essay on morality. Next Magazine post, Wednesday.

© Anthony North, July 2008

THE STORY OF LOVE

This is the story of the love of a girl,
by a man who’s life began to unfurl,
when he saw this vision of beauty true,
smitten – to his previous life, adieu

Her name was love, and he felt it inside,
so powerful it was, it could not be denied,
when she was not there he could not be complete,
yet little did he know he had to compete

Love was too powerful for only one man,
so many, after her, they ran and ran,
and each thought love was their ultimate dream,
startled by that omnipotent beam

The time came to pass when it was over for love,
peace went away, deserted by the dove,
and man fought man for the ultimate prize,
one fell down – dead, said his eyes

So love turned from something good to bad,
it is always so, isn’t it sad?
Jealousies, desires, stir in the pot,
and man’s existence – turmoil his lot

Wisdom does, of course, decree,
that lessons will be learnt by you and me,
yet although love deserted them all,
it was soon back, assisting man’s Fall

(c) Anthony North, July 2008

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THE STORM – Fiction

How do I explain what happened the night of the storm? Not the big one of last year – the REALLY big one – but this year; which, let’s face it, was big enough!
Lightning lit up the cliffs. Peter and I watched from the window of the house. We had been discussing him coming back into the firm after his latest bout of depression. I knew he had lost his wife in last year’s storm, and this must be particularly hard for him. The landscape, constantly crackling out of the darkness, seemed to add to the surreal nature of it all.
Peter stopped the discussion when he suddenly pointed outside and said: ‘Look!’
At first, I only saw darkness, but at the next flash I saw her, too. A woman, out there, alone. And then she began to run towards the cliffs.
I hadn’t known Peter that long, so I was shocked to see him run out of the house, chasing her, trying to stop her. I followed, shouting, ‘no!’ But it was only when he failed to return, and I made some calls, that I understood that it seemed to be history repeating itself.
Except, this time, it wasn’t his wife’s body found at the bottom of the cliffs, but his.
‘But I wonder what happened to the girl?’ the policeman said after we returned to the house.
I wondered myself – until I saw the photo on the sideboard. I guess I believe in ghosts, now. The woman I saw was his wife.

© Anthony North, July 2008