 Out back the moon is grazing orange then milky-white light we've fed it myths and legends, centuries kept fenced in lowing over darkening moorland, scratching away dust against oaks in craters of its eyes we search for ourselves we would fly and pick like birds on its back out there, the seldom moon, hide glowing above grassy tide.
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 I've known Tim Richards for a long time. It could've been longer, as we both attended Aberystwyth Uni. in the early 1970s. While I was heavily into left-wing politics there, Tim concentrated more on 3rd World First. I recall that group collecting money and leafleting on the streets (well, street) and I must have passed him many times. We met up in the early 80s and the first encounter was amusing. I'd expressed an interest in the Welsh Socialist Republicans and myself and my wife went to Tim's house in Abertridwr to meet up with him and a few others. I didn't know at that time, but my colleague and namesake at Pen-y-dre (who later became a great friend) was a prominent local Labour member, who even appeared on a party political broadcast. I later found out the Staff nicknamed him 'Mister Average' as a consequence. I had never had any time for the Labour Party : reformist, Unionist and, in the Valleys, as corrupt as the Masons. The entire meeting consisted of Tim and the others quizzing me about Labour strategies and eying me rather suspiciously. I was totally baffled! This could've put me off, but I knew that this was my politics and soon became inspired by many of those involved, especially Alun Roberts, Robert Griffiths and, of course, Tim Richards. Tim was my political mentor in many ways : an idealist who always stresses the need for involvement in local communities ; he has even been arrested for his beliefs when he expressed strongly republican views. The trumped-up charges could never stick against Tim's intricate legal brain. The anti-poll tax campaign symbolized Tim's ideas of putting direct action into process and he helped many people who had been forced into court simply because of their poverty and inability to pay that iniquitous tax. In those days Tim was a script-writer, journalist for 'Y Faner Goch' (monthly paper of Cymru Goch) and pamphleteer extraordinaire. Though he had written verse in school in Swansea, it wasn't until the birth of Red Poets' Society (as we were then) that he took to it with the same fervour and energy he had given to many campaigns. He has since appeared in every single issue bar the first and issue 5 ( available on our website www.RedPoets.org) features four poets : Jazz, Alun Rees, Sian Roberts and himself. 'Subversive Lines' ( published by Red Poets, £5) is his first ever collection and brings together most of the poems which have been in the magazines, plus some new material. It illustrates all his characteristic traits : it's full of humour, imaginative twists , passion and verbal Molotovs. On the cover is his own photo taken in The Netherlands of a car with a tree and plants growing out of it. It represents his desire to see a better world and through his poetry and life, to change people's consciousness. 'Crime Lesson' epitomizes Tim's view on what crime really is : the greatest criminals being those profiteers in the City who steal millions with impunity. 'The Sheep of Wales' is a veggie rallying cry (even though Tim isn't one), where he imagines a militant army of sheep taking over. It's like 'Animal Farm' condensed, revisited and reborn. 'Drunk!' and 'Stoned!' are excellent performance pieces, as is the explosive 'Fuck Em'. In the former he envisages the puking piss-artist as ' a non-lethal organo-chemical weapon'. 'Capitalists' encapsulates in just five verses what many would take tomes to express, hitting us with the subversive last line - 'they know all about money but its worth.' His invective against news broadcasts and the right-wing press are equally scathing and ,again, the final line of 'Daily Hate' is packed with wit as he sums up the paper's attitude to Europe and its loathing of 'the whole bloody continent!'. His poem 'Red Poets' Society' ( a name he prefers to Red Poets) shows his self-deprecatory humour; poets might like to think of it as show biz , but ultimately it's a minority interest - 'We got our fans,both of them.' Two poems attacking the monarchy combine lacerating wit and a quirky vision, with 'Aliens' depicting them from another galaxy. A series of poems look closely at the absurdity of modern life, using hyperbole to great effect - 'If you are losing interest in life and despairing of my reply please press 10' ( 'Helpline'). Two poems share his deep involvement in the anti-nuclear power movement in Wales and 'Necklace' is most moving, with its description of the effects of radiation from Chernobyl. 'Landscape Photographs' shows another side of Tim, with his enthusiasm for photography; though he realises that no photo can possibly capture the beauty of the scene - ' The mountains rule me allowing me to capture them fleetingly, on their own terms in a simple photograph.' Please come along to the Imperial Hotel, Merthyr Tudful on June 5th (7. 30 pm ) for the launch of 'Subversive Lines' as part of the Merthyr Rising events. I know Tim has been busy writing down his political memoirs and there are many wonderful stories. The following poem is based on one of these. What I don't explain is that we actually got the wrong place and the huge lime-burnt graffiti couldn't be seen from the Garden Festival site in Ebbw Vale in 1992! 3 A.M. ON MANMOEL MOUNTAIN for Tim Slopping in muddy ditchwater cords damp as a piss-the-bed sweating steep rock faces burning in the lime maps upside down tired inside out trying to find contours by torchlight, the fanatical driver reversing towards dark heather the perfect backdrop for words in lime it's all been planned except the fog thick as a hangover after a Skull Attack night - lights!......lights?........where? over the next ridge headlines of hypothermia songs of martyrs 3 men of Gwent 2 men of Merthyr went over the mountains for the burning of lime a path of potholes slopes like wet slides, white of bird-shit splashed and spotted, rubber gloves and masks to perform operations hallucinating sheep into buckets, arms drooping to housing estates backs throbbing like headaches, ceasing to care whether it was FEE WALES or FREE WAFFLES while below the final rivets the blow-lamps and drills finish off the structures of a 3D advertisement - brushing away the fog painting in the stars, a 40 foot constellation FREE WALES our exhibit burnt with the lime.  Cardiff City fans protesting against the red At the end of a season where our megalomaniac owner sacked an excellent head of recruitment and then a successful manager.... At the end of a season where we have plummeted from outside the relegation zone under Malky Mackay, to the bottom of the Premier under Ole Gunnar Solskaer.... At the end of a season where we have been divided as never before : between those who boycotted the club, those who only wore blue and the majority (at the season's beginning) who embraced the red.... At the end of such a disastrous season, how is a Bluebird fanatic like myself supposed to be optimistic? If Solskaer remains (as seems likely) I have serious doubts whether we have any chance of promotion from the Championship, even with the hefty 'parachute' payment. I don't need to dwell on all his faults, just read Brian Davies's fan's-eye view on Walesonline for a telling analysis. To summarize, we've moved rapidly backwards and downwards under Ole with poor team selection, tactics, motivation and signings (with the possible exceptions of Daehli and Cala). Yet, what has happened to our fans this season is remarkable : a total transformation! Many Cardiff fans have become ardent supporters over recent years. Ninian Park used to average about 13,000, which leaves around 10,000 who have known nothing except success, or the near-thing. These fans in particular, had bought completely Tan's red dream, their arguments being the same as Bellamy's when he joined us i.e. 'It doesn't matter if we play in pink, as long as we're successful!' (note : Bellers is a Liverpool fan!). This season, relatively rapidly, as we dropped down the league and after Moody and Malky were jettisoned for no good reason other than the owner's arrogance, our fans have increasingly worn the blue and joined the protests. Adversity, failure and a dictatorial regime has united us. The club shop in Cardiff centre sells red produce and is invariably empty ,while shops under the stands sell almost entirely blue and retro scarves are very popular. On 19 minutes 27 seconds, every game they are raised to celebrate that important moment in our club's history. Even a friend who was once a staunch defender of Tan, actually wore an old jacket with a Bluebirds crest to the last home game. The CCFC Supporters' Trust has called for Vincent Tan to create a feel -good factor and change back to blue. I doubt he will. Like getting rid of Solskaer, it would be an admission of defeat and he doesn't operate like that. He's used to total adulation in Malaysia : witness his mass birthday party and the huge dragon cake the size of Kenwyne Jones's pay packet! He's more likely to repeat his dictum - ' If you don't like what I'm doing, find another owner!' Yet his mad plans go ahead, with a 5000-seater stand being built with prices similar to the Grandstand. Chances are it will be empty all next season. It could be called the Etien Velikonja Stand in honour of the player Tan signed without Malky's knowledge and who has been a very expensive disaster. The present unity among Bluebirds fans is the most positive aspect of the whole season ( along with Marshall's goalkeeping). This was symbolized by the March for Blue before the Liverpool home game on March 22nd. All the supporters' organisations helped to get people there and thousands turned up to parade from Canton to the stadium. The mood was good-humoured and exhibited the best side of our fans. I couldn't help thinking how many of there had begun the season wearing red. If fans are so fickle, what's to stop many changing back? Surely, they can be bought off again by Tan's millions and a degree of success? Well, I'd like to think there's no turning back. Tan and his entourage look lonely and isolated decked in red and the players must've felt very uneasy. As to myself, like many others I shall keep on marching and campaigning for our true identity to be restored. A football club is like a family and our family history has been despoiled. The Bluebird, in all its mystery, must fly again. MARCHING FOR BLUE 'You shall not pass!' he boomed, standing in front of the car with inside adorned in Liverpool regalia, the occupants local yet red-shirted, boy with GERRARD on his back. 'Support your local team!' another shouted at them, with even their reg. declaring LFC. 'You shall not pass!' 'Brian Blessed' my friend laughed and all the way from the Admiral Napier to our blue and white stadium we chanted and halted the cars. Not one red shirt to be seen and even in the Executive windows a scarf from the 60s hung and our owner's 10 per cent sounded like some politician inventing stats to save his skin. We were like a large family brought together for a ceremony; on historical 19 minutes 27 seconds we raised our colours and sang, after Ali had announced in welcome ADAR GLEISION once again.  Up on the forestry track where dogs are often walked and you might see foxes crossing, the cuckoo-woman gave us a rhyme her mam had handed down - " The cuckoo comes in April She sings her song in May She changes her tune In the month of June And July she flies away" She'd heard the call first time this year early in April from deep on the Waun - without any prompting she smiled and recited to us like a rare song - days later we heard the bird but not a sight of it - the woman's voice returning . |
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