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Flow of Ideas: articles - Poems by Victor Rikowski |
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 A Capital Friendly Culture for Further EducationAcademy ChainsAfter the Hillcole GroupAgainst What We Are WorthAmbassadors of Capital in SchoolsAn Educational Mansion House for BusinessApprenticeship and the Use-value Aspect of Labour PowerArtistic OutlookAyers Rocked In His Own UniverseB GenerationBourdieu on CapitalBourdieu on Cultural CapitalBourdieu on Social CapitalBrown PFI MonsterBusiness Sponsorship of SchoolsBusiness Takeover of Further EducationCambridge University OccupationCaught in the Storm of CapitalCo-payment in Hospitals and SchoolsCold Hands and Quarter MoonCommunitarianism for SchoolsCompulsory Consumption and Uni-NannyConforming Schools Conforming KidsCopy/South DossierCreating MonstersCreeping Privatisation in Higher EducationCritical MassCritical Pedagogy and CapitalismCritical Space in EducationDelivering E-LearningDigital Rights ManagementDistillationDorothy L. SayersDouglas Kennedy: best-selling novelistE-learning for Free at the BBCEdison Schools in the UKEducation and Inspections Bill (2006)Education As Culture MachineEducation FireworksEducation for DebtEducation IncorporatedEducation Markets and Missing ProductsEducation RepetitionEducation the HSBC WayEducation White PaperEducation, Globalisation and the Learning SocietyEmployers and School LeaversEvaluating Different Teaching MethodsEverything Louder Than Everything ElseFinance and FearFive Endings of DesiresFoibles, Frolics and PhantasmsFreedomFreewillFrench New Wave CinemaFull Report Ruth Rikowski's Book Launch for Globalisation, Information and LibrariesGender and Spokesperson in Group Work IssuesGlobal TradingGlobalisation and Education RevisitedHabituation of the NationHigher Education and Confused Employer SyndromeHitchcock: classic auteurHuman capital, the knowledge economy and businessIn Retro GlideIn the Dentist's ChairKids in the Land of No DreamsKM CritiqueLazy Brit KidsLearning in the Earthworks of CapitalLearning InvestmentsLearning to the MaxLibrarianship and Human RightsLifelong Learning and the Political Economy of ContainmentLSBU StrategyMarketisation of the Schools System in EnglandMarx and Education RevisitedMarx and the Future of the HumanMarxism and Education RevisitedMarxist Educational Theory UnpluggedMaturity and FreedomMcDonaldization and EducationMichael JacksonMichele RobertsMiss Allison and Novel WritingMoneythought in Higher EducationMrs Thatcher and Holes in the Kitchen FloorMulticulturalism and Faith SchoolsMy Tony BlairNew Ideas in Ruth Rikowski's Book - Part 1New Ideas in Ruth Rikowski's Book - Part 2New Labour Policy for SchoolsNietzsche's SchoolNihilism and Educational ValuesNo Learner Left UnhassledNotes on the Confessions of John DenhamOn Education for Its Own SakeOn Education StudiesOn the Capitalisation of Schools in EnglandOn Transhumanism and EducationOpen AccessOutsourcing Public ServicesPeter Wilby on School PrivatisationPlanet of the CapitorgPlatoPlaygound Risks and Handcuffed KidsPoems by Gregory RikowskiPoems by Victor RikowskiPost-Fordism and SchoolsPost-Fordism in Primary SchoolsPostmodern Dereliction in the Face of Neoliberal Education PolicyPowerPointlessness in Higher EducationPrivate Schools as CharitiesPrivatisation of Schools in EnglandPrivatisation of Student DebtRaces in the Imperial WarReadings for Teaching CourseRecruitment and Labour PowerRevealed Recruitment Criteria through the Use-value Aspect of Labour-powerRobotic EthicsRuth Rikowski Updates (Archives)Ruth Rikowski Updates (Archives)School Fees and the 1944 Education ActSchools: Building for BusinessScience Fiction Films and HorrorSecond Time as FarceSnowballs and Risk in SchoolsSocial Contract Theory and Political ObligationsSocialism is not DeadSpeed of Life - Part OneSpeed of Life - Part TwoStroppy Individuals and Oppositional Cultures in SchoolsSustainability Policy at London South Bank UniversityTen Points on Marx, Class and EducationThe Business of Becoming a Business for AcademiesThe Capitalisation of Schools - Federations and AcademiesThe CBI and the Business Takeover of SchoolsThe Commodification of EducationThe Education White Paper and the Marketisation of SchoolsThe Evolution of Federations of SchoolsThe Last Parents EveningThe New Japanisation of SchoolsThe Profit Virus - The Business Takeover of SchoolsThe Standards Language-game for Schools in EnglandThe Which Blair ProjectThree Types of Apprenticeship - Three Forms of MasteryTony and Caroline BennTony Benn: Letters to GrandchildrenTransportTurney's and PPUUninspiring TowersUniverse of Capital and My SpaceUniversities in a Neoliberal WorldUtopia and EducationWhat Can Nietzsche Teach YaWhen Bullies Roam the SchoolWhen the Bowers BreakWhy Employers Can't Ever Get What They WantWill Hutton and His E-FossWolf on Marx Without SparksWomen in World Wars
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POEMS BY VICTOR RIKOWSKINIETZSCHE AND THE HE, THE I by VICTOR RIKOWSKI He loves how he is not alone, In this fruitful, cleansing air. He loves how he shares this throne, With another, with a flare Of light, in the distance of the depth, Like the ancestor of my dreams. He looks upon him like a step, A step of many steps to claiming great things. He imagines life without him, What a lonesome, sad thought. For otherwise he’d scratch his skin, From the lonely, itchy burden he himself brought. What rock shall he then turn to fire, What thunder shall he accompany with rain? What continuance shall he from aspire, Who shall be the teacher of the grounds of his own plain? Without him he would have to work, As the souls of two minds. And upon clashing them together, not a hope shall lurk, As the burden is too great and so it shall mentally grind In the hope that both souls shall wield. But no, for how could Perfect Sound Ever strive to know its ground Its origins, its birth? And therefore what shield can it hold, Once confronted with the earth, Once the earth asks what he was told? For he shall say I was told nothing, And then his shield can only be lowered. For he is not of thought for there is no continuing, And only alienation upon him can be showered. Who else can be his witness, Upon what will, can he physically grasp? If all he is seen as is a radical in the wilderness… Too far away be considered, to be understood, Too spiritually harsh. THE BEAST AND THE ANGEL BY VICTOR RIKOWSKI ‘I wish I were like you,’ Said the beast, ‘So my snarls become true, Leave the north-east.’ The angel shook his head, ‘How oft does thou, Insist on loving in his stead Without a how?’ The beast scratched his nose, ‘How! What of this? No method of how to arose? No! Teach to kiss.’ The angel shook his head, ‘Teach to kiss? Why? For you to watch others fled, Why need goodbye?’ The beast scratched his ear, ‘I can hear me, Thus to the south-west I steer, I’ll make them see.’ The angel pursed his brow, ‘What of steering? As if thou knows, to plough Will help growing?’ The beast scratched his lip ‘I can taste growth, It’s minerals into me slip, From me aloof.’ The angel clenched his fist, ‘Why grow so far, When yourself sits in thirst, Hearing lions roar?’ The beast began to growl and snarl, ‘Thou thinks thou knows All because he learns of a pearl! Becomes scarecrows!’ The angel stared wide-eyed at the best, On him he pounced, Thus the beast never doubted the Northeast, On him it bounced. LADY OF THREE WORDS by VICTOR RIKOWSKI O, where art thou coming from, Thy winter chill, That leaves the wind on the moor Frightfully still? I searched your bitter plains, Eyes vigilant. Statues of those that reined, Shame apparent. Then your stones crumbled… Water on dirt. I watched you melt, beguiled In ones own flirt. O, how the wind stopped and O, how lifeless. O, how we all demanded The wind’s princess. And we bade her come hither, Comfort – purity. To cease the stone’s whither For futurity. She shook her saddened face, She needs bribing. Her beauty been recognised, Hides all hiding. Thou rain that smote them thus, Must know thy crime. Not against her fair lady, but To the sublime. Was lack of insistence that had You won her thus. But now she is sad – empty, being Denied for us Alas, she desires more than, The hesitant. Since man founded her she sang, ‘I am beauty’. Do not love her in thyself… Love involves two. Make her perfect, dreamy and false, Naďve, untrue. If though shalt characterise her A wooed woman, One must paint her, admire her, Her skin – woven. Thou shalt sigh a thousand sighs, She listens – smiles. Thy winter chill becomes thy thrill, The moor goes on… …For many more miles. LADY OF NO WORDS by VICTOR RIKOWSKI You speak as though you are he, That is destined for many things. Yet you struggle to act wisely In indulging with what thy sings. Thy preach as if thou were God, Or at least the one after another. But you look at him and fail to nod Your head… he’s not your brother. It is a sad thought divine, Robs me of my right to live. The thought that he’s not mine, And I not his – soul deprive. Could you bare such guilt, Of taking it upon you, To doubt me, prove and watch me wilt? All that I’ve collected, you bestrew! The thought doth scare, The idea that he be not there. There to tell me I’m right, There to tell me not to fright. And the woe, the woe that dawns, Out of suspecting thy yawns, Baring the pages of my book. ‘He is a man who is false, He slanders those dawns That dared to repulse.’ THE MAP AND THE ABYSS by VICTOR RIKOWSKI A young lively boy came by my way, And asked me to draw a map, ‘In what direction does thou wish to sway?’ The boy’s hand against his head made a clap. ‘Thou wants a map to your head?’ I asked with much perplexing. And the boy nodded ‘into the centre I fled.’ ‘How extraordinary…! So why need helping?’ The boy looked up and rubbed his chin. ‘I went, came back and forgot my root, And I have forgotten something from within.’ ‘What has thou left, a purse, a boot?’ ‘No,’ the boy answered still rubbing his chin, ‘There was a sign that said destiny upon, Thus I walked past without taking it in, But upon pondering, ‘twas a sign of a song.’ What a curious case that had gone my way, ‘Did the sign have an arrow thus?’ The boy nodded, ‘but of a map, what does thou say?’ ‘A map if drawn, would be a mild cuss.’ I thus looked up and my chin I rubbed, And the child, cross-armed, sulked a little. ‘If of thy memory thou has been robbed, Then I shall help thou reclaim that sign’s title.’ Thus the boy smiled and walked, And I followed in his laughing path, But along as such, I felt I had been stalked, But devoid of fear, soothing, like a bath. Thus after walking some long distance, I stood there, the sign sitting in my gaze, ‘I have found your sign, thus begin thy silence, For thou knows not what lies in thy future graze.’ The boy looked around, his eyes did not see, ‘Where be the sign? ‘Twas of certainty much farther.’ ‘Look, it be right in front of you, ‘tis easy!’ The boy shrugged and continued his laughter. But as he disappeared, I too had lost my way, ‘How had I got here?’ I thought in dismay. ‘Fear not,’ a voice in my head appeared and gave me a kiss, ‘For none have yet been able to draw a map in this abyss.’ © Copyright, June 2005 Print Friendly - Print Friendly with links |
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