The sound you hear in the distance is not the leafing of a recently purchased literary work from the now silent Hughes & Hughes, it is the rumble of collapse.
Somewhere in this choking dust we have to make our way out.
Decide to move on, to let go of the after-shock.
To disengage from the ruin and engage in the rebuild.
We have to reconduct, reconstruct our loss, our fury, our anger.
We have to grieve the old way with the old rituals.
We must begin the wake, the true wake, the one we let go of, threw away in the scramble for the new ritual of bling and flash.
There is no 'old way' anymore, there’s just the way.
The sound of keening will replace the sound of the till. The wake is the wake-up call.
The water that will wash our face from the economic dust will be the water of tears.
So dry your eyes now with the back of your hand and listen. Someone should call the rescue mission off because the mission has nothing to recover.
There is no sign of economic life, there is no recovery, no pulse in this rubble. It is merely a dump now, a landfill site and underneath it between the rockface and the grey brown mud is all the aspirations of wealth and capitalism collective and personal dreams, betrayed.
This landscape of failed economy will become one of those 'sacred places'. A kind of Auschwitz, a reminder of the economic holocaust.
We trusted and we adored, not too long ago, our economic leaders, our heads of the church of cash. We had faith in the faithful when really all it was was generational conditioning. We frenzied for money. We loaned our souls to these people and they did with it what all tyrants do, they got drunk on power, on control and caused mayhem and misery.
Best now, to move from this place or be engulfed and turned to ash like those of Pompeii. Move quick before you fall from the fallout. The good place is over here with us, with yourself.
Sometimes in times like these to own nothing truly is to own something, to have something that no-one can take away. Don't get consumed by what they would like us to be consumed with, rage, resentment, envy, anger, self- sabotage. That would suit their needs. They would like disobedience, civil unrest. They would send out their armed forces to save their civilization, but not ours. Oh no, they wouldn't save us. We're the new poor, the underclass the ones outside the pale, the masses, the hardened not-working classless class.
It would be like the 30’s, the Great Depression, except it would be greater, it would be awesome, it would be mega. Full of cinematic and literary possibility except it would be real. And when its all over, subsided, quietened down, exhausted, no more rioting, no more mayhem, just dried blood, sure, wouldn't we still have to move on?
So are you coming? Are you coming or are you stayin'?
Or, are you waiting for any of the false promises to come true?
We cannot continue to blame those who won't hear us, those who won't be responsible or held accountable. Those that want us to be disobedient, riotous so as they can lock us up, baton us down, fill us full of lead.
Let’s not let the past repeat itself. Let’s not be any part of that.
Let’s do ourselves some service.
Look at the state of us. Scavenging on top of the pile.
Time now ladies and gentlemen please.
Stop blaming on your shoes the faults of your feet.
Come on we're waiting for you.
We're moving.
We can do better.
All this will pass if we let it pass.
