Maybe you’d read this poem in Highschool or University…
To be honest, I can’t remember which one it was either.
I registered late for my classes at the University of Calgary because I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to be when I grew up…
To be even more honest…I still don’t.
A prerequisite for an English Class was mandatory to get into Business Management…and by the time I’d gotten around to figuring out that this was the path I wanted to take, Poetry was the only course left.
Pffffffffft…seemed like it should’ve been the first one to fill up, really…
Like Home Economics - Cooking, in Highschool. This was definitely a cake walk and a place to hang out with chicks.
Don’t judge me…
I’ve never claimed to be that smart.
Poetry in Uni was anything but a cake walk…in fact, I’d go so far as to say that this was a complete bullshit class. I skated by with a C+ because after attending a few of my lectures, I’d had enough.
When came time for our final paper…I got about 10 pages in…stopped…flipped the page…and wrote an analysis of why I thought the class was bullshit. While I believe that I was effective in my delivery, to actually get a passing grade on this…it was a little insincere and never mentioned:
There were no ‘Hotties’, in the class…
This wasn’t about romantic poetry…
There wasn’t a focus on poetry and prose…there was no rhythm. No Magic.
&
It was filled with chubby dudes and beatnik looking gals…Not my style.
The content, was trash, (as far as I was concerned), but given that one of the great poems I remember from my youth, I’ll give credit to the U of C for this one small gift, by Dylan Thomas…even though it was probably a High Skewl thang…
And the reason I even bring it up is because it feels like a lot of what I and we are all facing…the dying of the light.
Democracy is toast.
Intellect is dead.
Our freedoms afforded by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms have been abolished.
Everything we’ve come to know about “Our Home and Native Land”, is being bastardized.
We could just set the flag on fire at this point…tap out…get drunk…and live like the rest of the sheeple through this nightmare…
But we can’t.
And we aren’t.
We Won’t!
So…for those of you who know the poem…for those of you who don’t…
A good little refresher pep talk delivered to you from 70(ish) years ago…don’t let these bastards wear you down. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, Rage against the dying of the light!
Do not go gentle into that good night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
A very good start of not going gentle into that good night is to STOP COMPLYING. They cannot keep up their agenda if many of us do not go along with it. Spread the word to everyone you meet. Ask them if they have heard about 15 minute cities, or THE NEW WORLD ORDER. Start using cash. There are many ways to throw wrenchs into the wheels. Start throwing wrenches!!!!!
You should have taken Russian like I did, purely by accident, because that elective fit into my schedule. The babes in there were outstanding. And now its actually turned out to be useful as I look at Telegram posts.