While Great Forces...

While great forces take on the nights of a crazed regime and another buckles the earth in the great curve of fire that sweeps from northern to the southern hemisphere, I walk slowly in the streets of Bloomsbury, the Guardian tucked under my arm so I can read of the foolishness of arms dealers going on peace missions. Not our fault, the exultant business men say, that the tears gas canisters and armed police vans, that the bullets and high powered rifles, the new old machine guns, are being used against peaceful protesters, we just sell, sell, sell: grown men holding portfolios of state play at the arms fair in Abu Dhabi, exchanging killing machines for wealth, part of Cameron's, the new Prime Minister here, glowing belief in prosperity and security as the two pillars of good governance. Money taken for almost anything, while huge cuts take the ground out from under the poor and the working poor, from single mothers and desperate youth with no jobs and the fees for education rising above their heads, and banks, the arrogant reckless ones, reap greater profits then ever while the people look to their counter parts in those dark streets for hope, for an idea of how to say no. I walk slowly, have cups of tea with an old dear friend in a small cafe around the corner from our flat, while great forces pour into the night and the earth buckles beneath us.