Fear breeds hate.
And with fear and hate come acts of revenge,
A desire to avenge …
Assaults on our stability,
Reminders of our fallibility …

We choose an ‘us and them’ mentality
To try to cope with the mindless brutality,
Our own sense of vulnerability,
And an incapacity
for the ego to accept a threat,
a blow,
a knock,
a disrespect.

We match hate with hate,
In childlike self righteousness,
with fear innate.
We create an ‘other’
as a cover.
And thus we exclude …
we collude and conclude
that ‘they’ are alien and estranged …
and must be subdued,
subject to war … feud …
More violence, hate and fear ………

The violence of blame.
We can’t face the shame.
That given the right circumstances,
The right conditioning …
We all have the capacity,
for deeds which shock and horrify …

We are voracious in our denunciation … condemnation …
In our fearful frustration,
we search for simplicity.
To avoid our own duplicity,
we choose blame.
We ignore the social, economic, political, historical and resource-scarce circumstances …
And with childlike simplicity,
we choose religion as the scapegoat.
With childlike self-righteousness,
we ignore its role as a guide to compassionate living … a moral compass.

For our moral compass is the violence of blame,
and with naïve fury …
we only seek a label … a name …
we are judge and jury …
And we condemn and convict religion with childlike simplicity.
Because anything more complex,
Will confuse and perplex …
Challenge our tribal security.


Everyone’s writing about love …
But I want to write about rage and hate ….
The ugly stuff …
The hard truth of angry youth …
Love is innate.
But rage and hate are learnt.
Love is as natural as mother and baby bliss.
But with rage and hate clearly something has gone amiss.
The logic of love has been missed …

Perhaps the rageful and hateful were not loved enough …
Perhaps they were forced to be tough …

Cults of terror,
are generally perpetuated by angry young men,
in foolish error,
guided by a tribal ‘us and them’ …
with men often older and more coldly capably devious,
pulling the strings …
Manipulating serious delirious fervent puppets …
who have relinquished the capacity to think for themselves.

What use to rage against and hate these soldiers …?
Whose burning need to strive smoulders unfulfilled …
Their unbroadened shoulders droop and hunch with a fundamental dissatisfaction  …
Smoulders of striving demand action … a reaction … an interaction …
that will address the ugly lack of satisfaction.

How to fulfil our fundamental needs ?
How to forestall the greedy grasping power hungry cravings for more …
For war …
For bombs …
For pogroms …
For destruction … devastation …
and reduction of the tribal ‘other’
to a broken, snivelling, grovelling shell ….

What use to rage against and hate those angry soldiers …
With their hunched drooping shoulders.
Devastation of countries cultures creeds citizens children
will not forestall the greedy grasping power hungry cravings for more …
For war …
For devastation.

Two brick walls in stalemate ..
Us and them ..
Naming no names ….
There’s no efficacy in blame.

The need to strive,
is in overdrive.
Out of control.
They’re on a roll.
Driven by lack,
desperation …

Terrorist soldier, strive to devalue and subdue,
with fear and guns and bombs,
and the ‘other’, responds in kind.

Are we all destined to become stammering stumbling freaks …
gasping suffocation in a orgy of fear … ?
The logic of love has no place in this orgy of fear,
where two brick walls expand and amplify,
with tremors and tremblings and self-righteous rage.
Two inflated chests,
puffed up with bird brained zest,
hard pressed,
to find logic
in this regressed protest
of toxic futility.


Rollercoastering through the taut tight cavities of human existence.
A concord rollercoaster dynamiting through the rocks,with pointed weighted head,
dense, fearless dynamite lead.
Smashing open those boxes … to which we humans chose to be wed.
In sickness and in health … for richer … for poorer,
we hold tight to our boxes … those labels, prejudices and judgements.

We crave the familiar … we are particular,
to those things similar.
To what we know … to what we don’t even know that we know …

So subliminal and profound … is the rooting of this ‘familiar’.
Buried deep underground …
Beneath the threshold of consciousness.

We treasure these boxes.
We resist detoxes,
of our labels, prejudices and judgements …
Because we are subliminally attached
to the conditioning that hatched
our defenses, negativity and noxious poxes
which are carefully stored in those treasured boxes …

Babies are born innocent and free
of defenses, negativity and noxious poxes …
As they grow,
their vulnerability
renders them helpless to the acquisition of boxes.
Boxes for labels, prejudices and judgements.
We destroy their purity,
through our own peculiarities,
our conditioned particularities,
to those noxious familiarities.
What we’re taught,
those labels, prejudices and judgements,
we caught,
and trapped,
and then became subliminally attached to.
They are not who we are,
But who we become.
We become numb,
unconsciously dumb,
to the innocence and purity,
the beauty and vulnerability,
of our baby boxless selves.

Whatever is negative, is learnt.

Your treasured box,
is no more than a pox …
and the concord rollercoaster is mine ….
I created it to smash my own noxious pox ridden boxes.
I’m busy smashing away…
Stripping off my defenses.
I’m relentless with my purge,
to help that butterfly to emerge.
A beautiful, boxless, baby butterfly …
with wings and things …
Free and easy …
Not dying in a tornado
easy in its purity and vulnerability.

Concord rollercoasters
Cannot be lent,
and they are not heaven sent …
You’ve got your own.
It’s the will of the soul.
It will take you home,
and help you be whole
Home to beautiful, baby boxless purity and freedom.
Katharine Scott
Surrey UK. Britain.

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