Friday, 22 October 2010


I've been rather taken of late by a sociological theory that I recently chanced upon - 'collective amnesia'. Yes- collective amnesia. The paint on it is still wet.
It seems that mankind as a whole, or nation states separately, having gone through many traumatic events that significantly shaped their future [these traumas are, it is said, shared by both sides of a warring divide, that is a combination of being both given and received] so much so that they may chose to 'selectively forget' or 'entirely forget' the truth of such matters and move forward in a sense of major denial.
The powers that be who have always manipulated the masses via religion, poverty and violence, achieve this 'delusional euphoria' by producing what we still call 'recorded history', the ‘official’ version, ‘facts’ and by other means of state propaganda intended to make us all feel well-informed.
Powerful, but nevertheless young nation states, such as the USA who, by whatever means, turbo-charged their way to the top of the international tree, will have undoubtedly experienced many mass traumas and 'enjoyed' many mass forgettings. Their history will be a lengthy series of deliberate misrepresentations, admittedly nowhere near as long or deviously convoluted as those attached to the British Isles- formerly the largest empire ‘known’ to modern man.
Here is the present horror. When those who 'awake' and begin to remember, and those who have been sorely wronged re-assert their claims to knowing the truth, the ensuing nightmare of presumed culpability and wrongness is a totally fearful prospect for those stuck in a blinkered society who are just not equipped to take it on board or who remain blindly, self-interestedly embroiled in their own day to day survival. They will not want their cosy and familiar preconceptions shaken to the core. Soaps remain essential fodder, as does caffeine, nicotine, sugar, alcohol, all other drugs off or on prescription.
The turmoil of such a rude awakening may be immense. They, the masses lumbering from their couch potato slumber, may feel personally attacked by the 'new truth', hoodwinked, shown to be stupid. In this bind they will get utterly defensive, then proceed to exhibit violent resentment. Does this ring any liberty bells?

The 'collective amnesia' theory holds true as much for recent history, despite the technological record, as it does for ancient and pre-history.
It is a demonstrable fact that, collectively, the world does truly want to still accept that the measurement of longitude- a matter requiring a timepiece accurate to within twenty minutes, a method which facilitates accurate navigation and proper mapping, just could not have occurred many centuries prior to the 18th. To believe otherwise would not suit the current paradigm and so it is forgotten and ignored and, to mention it at all, is considered very odd ball in the least and revolutionary at most.
However, it is a further demonstrable fact that, in the very recent past, The Smithsonian Institute, packed up a cellar full of artefacts and physical archaeological evidence that would not fit the currently approved historical record and so mocked them, greatly embarrassing them, constantly challenging the then status quo. What did these luminaries do? They barged up countless bags of priceless finds and threw them into the Atlantic Trench. An extreme form of sweeping things under carpets. Is this the American way, the Western way, the way of human civilisation?
It is an equally demonstrable fact that, in Britain, even today, in order to get any degree at Oxford or Cambridge in Egyptology you have to fill exam papers with 'what was once true' since 'what is now known to be true' is considered not to be acceptable examination material, and it will not be useable until certain PhDs leave this mortal coil with their academic reputations intact. These dinosaurs will be replaced by young Dons and a new era of updated ‘truth’ will commence.
There are, inevitably, vastly more illustrations of the point I am making. But these few offerings should suffice.
Now, my hunch is, in much the same way that a baby who has survived a tragic car accident, losing its natural parents, does not actually want to know that he or she is adopted. Why would they? Yet, as adults, you would have to agree that in all of us there are profoundly shadowy suspicions lurking in our sub-conscious that we do not wish to have aroused for love or money. We smell rats, we spot rat fleas and the plague is immediately diagnosed. Just so. These ghosts of forbidden truths imply a monumental sin, great hurt or wrong-doing. Well, quite, because all of the hurts and all of the wrong doings have been manifold and inexorably sinful. We will neither bear nor wear it.
I must be something of an alien life-form because I indulgently embrace new knowledge and delight in old knowledge being proved wrong. Thrash it I say, give it stick. Rather than re-traumatising me it excites and invigorates me. I am given reason to go on being human, conscious and consequently at fault, that ill-fitted, unnatural part of creation whose various exploits and adventures shame me so deeply.
Now, I have no problem whatsoever with the notion that Egypt and the Sahara had once been sub-tropical for a vast period of time but most people want it to have always been their desert and for it to remain their fanciful desert. For them, sand and rain and greenery and Pharaohs just do not mix.  Similarly I have no problem with the plain truth that North America was murderously robbed via ‘treaties' from Native America Indians. Americans then were an adolescent, rag-bag society of conflicting power merchants, robber barons, petty thieves and bible bashing inbreds, violent in the extreme. Forebears almost always are. They were, as that age demanded, merely 'self-interestedly' civilised and not by proper definition civilised. But now and tomorrow what will their gene pool do?
I have no problem with the tried and tested archaeological record that suggests that the multi volcano complex beneath Yogi Bear's 'Yellowstone Park' is known by irrefutable science to blow catastrophically every 65,000 years, like a massive endgame timepiece, but is now, somewhat worryingly, 5,000 years overdue. Magma levels were rising at 2 units a year but have now risen to seven when last I checked. The trend is undeniably up. Start downsizing to a multi-fuelled campervan and drive.
When America finally strikes Iran and limited nuclear war ensues, making a mockery of recent mass-media obsessions with impending climate change, a few will multiply their wealth to the power of ten but the effect on the earth's core will be undoubtedly traumatic. It may very well, via an inconvenient ripple effect, trigger the already tremulous super-volcano and wipe out all of Northern California at a stroke, bringing about a phenomenal exacerbation of the ongoing strategic nuclear winter. What a massive own goal that will be, even though it might actually be a part of ‘the plan’.

And in the dreadful aftermath, should mankind survive it, the only way forward will be by engaging in collective collaboration- yes, collective collaboration, an evolutionary step towards significant holistic advancement that we have long been loath to take. The dreadful but healing 'amnesia' will kick in again.
Surviving records implicating Americans and their allies will be all but destroyed. And, moving upwards but not forwards once more, we will never want to be reminded that, at our behest, we took the biggest retrograde step ever.
But maybe, just maybe, somewhere, buried deep within the fall-out dust will be the secret and encoded diaries of a high ranking General who had been unhappy with the direction of his country’s foreign policy. He’ll, doubtless, have been a closet-gay Democrat or a shamed and outed men’s room monster Republican. Take your pick.
Future truth seekers and archaeologists may uncover his invaluable stash of evidence and telling remembrances. It will shake the new tree of 'recorded history' and the shiny Nouveau Americans may scream once more with rabid belligerence and raucous indignation.

Do I care for such hideous and anguished tones of exclamation? Yes. Yes I care. Of course I care. But, to be frank, only enough to have written this- the exercising of a responsibility that, being a Welsh poet, I readily, if not a little wearily, accept. I can’t abide that prophesised experience- my being a party to such an ugly auditory pitch, the obscenely loud whinge of the truly astonished drowning in our own mass admonishments.
Will you care? That’s my point. Well, you secret collectors of absurd verbiage, for the sake of my grandchildren and yours I very much hope so. There is, rather astonishingly, the very slightest inkling that I might be persuaded, against everything that I hold dear, to pray for such a thing.

© Chris Madoch 2010

Image by CM for eye2eyedesigns international

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‎'Put your hands up any heteros in the house. Ah bless. Now put your fists up any gays in the house! Wow! That's more like it- marvellous. I've got this day job, a nice little earner- sales rep for KY Jelly. Look- I know it's a stretch madam but this is supposed to be a laugh. Don't tell me your self-lubricating you're in the OAP seats.' CM

'The fossil stand-up with a walking frame, John Rivers- who thinks jewellery should yell CHEAP louder than fucking canaries on acid said of Yoko Ono- if she found her floating in her pool then she'd punish her dog. I knew that heartless bitch could be cruel to dogs.' CM


Soon to be in an HMV store near you- we wish. NO CHANCE this version with Lee Plonker was disbanded. It has risen like a phoenix from the fires of disappointment though. YAY!


It works. Course I have. Fab.


MORTAL INSTRUMENTS Such are the demands of Hollywood that Lily Collins has to continue to pretend that her former relationship with JCB is in fact alive. A little bird tells me it as a dead as a DODO which was a very big bird indeed. Ha. Just like the writer of Mortal Instruments. Believe me the best thing about this movie franchise will be LILY COLLINS who has just delivered the performance of her life in the soon to be released LOVE ROSIE. An Oscar nomination beckons I reckon. And yes, I am in a position to know. THE NEXT LAME DEVELOPMENT IN SELF-PUBLISHING Saddo outfits such as the much fanned ONEIROS BOOKS actually self-publish authors who are too cowardly, lazy, lousy or inept to self-publish themselves. HILARIOUS. Of course you have to get through the onerous filtering processes. Licking arse helps. Judging by this house's nauseatingly variable standard of output the filters in place are utterly worthless. The poetry editor has no understanding of POETRY per se and is a piss-poor poet by any standard. They openly applaud themselves for being revolutionary. Pathetic. They are but a further evolution of the self-affirmation model and the modernly sociopathic ego. Steer clear. Do not indulge their risible waste of tree.


until you're absolutely perfect at it.


with the total freedom to be and love who you are without complaint or restraint.





This is where the first tracks for the new band will shortly appear but meanwhile I will be showcasing songs from prior collaborations- this first one CALIFORNIAN QUEEN is from the album CERULEAN BLUE that I wrote with the genius Dominic Shaw. I do the spoken word and he does the lead vocals and instruments. He is not a gay man and is now heavily into ambient music. The album was loved by Phil Collins, Hit and Run Music and EMI- but eight years ago no-one had any idea how to market it.