Poem: The Tactics of Our Antics

By Liz Darcy Jones

Let us be Up Rising!

Create a mighty swell:

Our words are magnetising

they say ‘Wake up! Rebel!

We’ll get up and we’ll stand up

for those who don’t or can’t

and if you’re not for marching

then find some trees and plant!

Let us be Up Rising!

Create a mighty swell:

Our words are magnetising

they say ‘Wake up! Rebel!

we will not stoop to fight or harm

but mischief-make with glee

‘til songs and chants and mass arrests

and our solidarity

wake up those in denial

and rouse the ones who sleep

‘til all can see we’ve got to change

adapt and make it deep!

Let us be Up Rising!

Create a mighty swell:

Our words are magnetising

they say ‘Wake up! Rebel!

If we can challenge and rise up

and rock the status quo

whilst keeping our hearts open
there’s just a chance we’ll show

revolting rigid concepts

(born of power or greed)

hold far more threat than you or I:

let fierce love be our creed

Let us be Up Rising!

Create a mighty swell:

Our words are magnetising

they say ‘Wake up! Rebel!

Poem: Blameless and shameless life

By Liz Darcy Jones

This is the crux of love

crux of the symbol

heart of nature whether we like it or not

our system’s toxic but when we attribute

blame or shame to each other we contribute

to the rot

Nature’s web gives us our lead

irreverent and shameless

it holds every one blameless!

Still we do not learn and douse ourselves

and shame and blame’s dirty oil

incendiaries which then inflame

our hearts’ already desert soil

Can we appreciate our system’s toxic

and accept each one of us forgets

the one to which we’re born –

begging us to honour all its non-judgemental wild?

will I harden arteries with blame and shame

or be the bloody love which pumps

the heart of every creature, man and child?

This is the type of blood to keep the world alive

this is the blood without which we will not survive.

P.S. Some say we need shame to bring us to our knees in grief…

No. Accept its presence [beat] but make your meeting personal and brief.

Shame is unattended guilt, and guilt – painful prompt to acts of restitution –

guilt calls for gentle understanding, shifts the silt

of pain, regret, self-harm

it asks me (me, alone since others’ lives I do not own)

am I toxifying our system further with my shame and blame

or learning to play clean in nature’s game?
for nature’s game insists not one of us is left out –

and often gives the tiniest player greatest clout!

The Captain-less Raft: a poem

By Liz Darcy Jones

‘Who are your leaders?’ curious shouts
‘We don’t have leaders, so every one counts’
‘But when you cock up, who is to blame?’

‘We are all human, we don’t play the game
of naming, wronging or indulging in shame –

nor do we promise position or fame.

This means we build a raft which is flat

we dismantle hierarchy, slim the fat cat

(that 1% creaming the best out of greed):

we’re creating a platform to meet our earth’s need

Our power is love which honours the world –
so whether you’re blond, or have hair tightly curled

or feathers, or fur, or are frail and bald –
come and join in, whatever you’re called!
this is fierce love and this our power

an unstoppable force at hand ever hour…

but creating it can’t just rely on a few

because at its heart it IS me and you.’

“Who is Extinction Rebellion for” Ditty

By Liz Darcy Jones

I was challenged this week by an acquaintance as to who the leaders of XR are and who it’s for… Very serendipitous timing as I’d reached Principle and Value No 6 ‘We welcome everyone and every part of everyone’!

And after joining members of the Green Party, other environmental groups and fellow XR rebels in Newbury in pouring rain to remind the Council that the climate emergency will have an impact on their spending (it was their annual Budgetary meeting) the ditty below emerged. We were a diverse group and my imagination lit up…

Who is XR for?’

‘Everyone.’
‘Too general, it can’t be done! Nah!’
It’s something I muse upon. And now I’ll hazard a try
to tell you why…’

Because XR is you

the passionate, secret tree-hugger

daring to start a chant (she’s eighty-two)

Because XR is me

the child of three

who doesn’t understand but likes to bang

his tambourine and make a noise indefinitely!

Because XR is her

retired and studious academic

now prepared to make a stir

Because XR is him

who doesn’t agree entirely with the strategy

and whose sight is getting dim

but feels valued (and the endless marching

keeps him trim)

Because XR is he/she/neither and LGBT

removes all labels and yet recognises

each for who they are – safe and heard in a holacracy*

Because XR is multi-sized

embracing every part of you –

yes, the bits you conveniently forget

and the lovely parts you’ve not yet met

Because XR is me

lover of solitude, pacing my supplies of energy

XR could be each and every one of us

the passengers and driver of the bus

XR could be mankind – man kind – transformed into one ginormous ‘we’
will you join up and help that come to be?!

*A holacracy is a decentralised nimble form of organisation, flat in structure leveraging autonomy, see www.holacracy.org

Rainbow Grey

Snow blind?

No, snow kind

snow softs

wafts gentle in overnight

transforms my world –

no, not with white

(too stark, too bright)

 

the landscape’s stilled by

innumerable flakes of small

an infinite, invisible fall

away from noise

from angry reds,

grassroot greens and rusty blues –

all turn to grey and yet retain

a trace of all these hues

 

my vision IS for system change

but how?

today it takes an awestruck bow

to nature

wonders if we could witness a gentle miracle –

immense but no less radical

can I relinquish all the safety of my past belief

allow snow melt to wipe out grief

and find a vision grey drawn from this sky

which blankets all the bleak of ‘’will we live or die’?

to find the colour in the snow

leave space for many miracles to land

in that expanse which lives in ‘I don’t know’

 

it may be a fairy tale at best

but grief responds to this immediate request

and effects an inner system change

gruesome future stories rearrange

themselves and drop into a humble silence

which allows for being at peace

as the metaphor of many flecks of grey

prompts release

of the thought that many tiny unseen actions hold the power to change the view

for some cold feathered one – for me or you:

 

receive this muff of grey which wraps itself around the sun

embracing system change which dignifies and includes every one.