Harmony

Stephen’s Green, Dublin Ireland

Where I was born was a place of great learning. The place was Oxford, in fact: Oxford UK.

I was born in an infirmary, they tell me. When infirmaries still got called that. I don’t remember, even though I was there. I wasn’t too young to remember: it’s not that. Rather, I didn’t want to remember.

That moment presaged the rest of my life until the day of a birthday of mine: my 54th, that is. A parallel existence I lived for most of my time on this otherwise beautiful rock. I lived in the shadow of my father, who was a terrible man: he was terrible to me but also to himself. His own family had been little better. His brother, my uncle, was a tall and imposing figure: but took no nobility or honour from his physique. Instead, he casually and cruelly advantaged himself of it: his first wife died young, driven to it in my opinion by the hatred her husband breathed daily; their many children, meanwhile, suffered brutal bullying, both physical and mental.

He was well seen by his community. It happens like that; especially with unforgiving men. My own father wasn’t unforgiving: he wasn’t strong enough to be unforgiving. He was just unforgivable.

But he hurt himself as much as he did me. And so my mother … well … if I lived under the unforgivable shadow of my father, it was under the permanent excusing of those behaviours no one should consent to that we all laboured under, whenever my mother failed to duly and properly, fairly, intervene.

She is Catholic: her brand of Catholicism gravitates to finding reasons to forgive the dreadful instead of searching out and celebrating the absolutely praiseworthy.

I — as the first child and then progenitor of my own children, official — was exposed to all of this for probably 53 years, and so lived a parallel life until my 54th. I didn’t live or enjoy life at all. It wasn’t my purpose to do so.

What did happen, then, when I crossed my chronology’s 54th? What exactly happened that evening of three hours of fabulous encounter and exploration … almost of verbal dancing and sometimes glorious sparring? What happened to me — and then again, what happened to you, my dear Claire?

These are thoughts I’ve never voiced or written down before. I know my life changed. Actually, I don’t like the term “change”. It implies foregoing what went before. I much prefer “transform”.

Why?

To “transform”, to me, means to enable the flowering and emergence of a self buried too long from the world: buried in all those parallel existences that, in my case, preceded that 54th.

That’s what Claire did: that’s what you did.

I didn’t, after, act with any sort of decorum for a long while, and whatever you had been trying to do for me that #bloomsday2016 in #dublin #ireland was stupidly quashed for sure, at and by my confused and silly hand.

At least in respect of us doing and forging and engineering something together by engineering, forging and doing something world-changing. Which is, I am now sure, what you intended that June evening. And this, wherever and whatever that world might have been: whether utterly public or beautifully private.

And perhaps even with my projects as they currently stand and as they show signs of truly moving forwards, there is still nothing we will ever be able to work together on.

https://secrecyplus.com/faqs

https://secrecyplus.com/video

After all, life leaves behind real scars, and such scars are made of decisions poorly, truly poorly, taken. Decisions which in hindsight were crossroads: even forks in a road we sometimes fail to understand we are traversing. They cannot be undone: the deepest cut will always remain so.

But … even so. Even so …

If you were of a mind, dearest Claire, I’d love to repair what most who know of this story will consider, right now, as unrepairable.

I don’t say heal, yet: that would surely be a presumption too far on my part. But … repair … could this be ok? Could it?

I don’t mean what could never be: I mean to reach out to reinstating what should have been, if my own idiocy hadn’t so foolishly truncated what could have been the best friendship of our lives.

That’s all I mean.

I’m going back to #sweden on the 8th August for a month. By that time, I’d love you to have understood the Nio Kvinnor/Secrecy Plus (NK/SP) corporate proposal enough to consider being the #ceo that sits atop eight other #femalefounders and #csuite executives, who I’m determined shall run NK/SP:

https://secrecyplus.com/planning

https://niokvinnor.com/people

If you did want to consider this seriously, I would then step aside wholly.

It would become your project and related workstreams for the rest of your life. For as long as you cared, I mean …

In their entirety, they would become so.

As long as Nio Kvinnor really did equal nine women. At the top. And constitutionally, for the absolutely foreseeable.

https://niokvinnor.com/one

My only condition being that, tbh. Just that one.

I’m 63 tomorrow. My utility to this rock will begin to decay in perhaps a decade. I want my legacy to be people, not fixtures nor brands. I want my legacy to be culture: ways of doing stuff. Not bank balances (though these have their place), nor brute power. Just good humans like you and me, who have suffered brutality for far too long and now know — oh how we know! — that we don’t want to continue to facilitate its march.

Just that.

Just this.

“Harmony” by The Corrs, streaming from #stockholm #sweden

“On people called #melians who have no regrets”

In truth, whilst change IS inevitable — just as #siliconvalley and its dreadful hangers-on have universally, dogmatically and terrifyingly proclaimed for over half a century — its NATURE never automagically was. It’s just a fact, this: just a fact, too. For #bigtech is an only “half-the-story #tech”. And only ever has been.

Mil Williams, 27th April 2025, Arlanda Airport, Stockholm, Sweden,

It’s what I said a while ago.

There’s no courage involved in not feeling fear. And therefore no virtue whatsoever in being fearless.

There’s only virtue in doing something despite the need to overcome.

And one other thing I’ve learnt:

Not everyone should like you. If they did, you’d probably be doing something wrong.

Not wrong in itself. Wrong because in the first instance, in my experience, when you have an idea and are NOT stubborn enough not to have your course changed, it’s an error of crass proportions if and when you ultimately fail to persist in transforming the world, particularly when you ideas manifestly deserved to.

And sometimes, maybe often, we do fail to transform what’s around us with our thoughts and imagination precisely because, equally, we want to be liked: I mean, that is, that we tend to prefer to think not being liked is a sign we’re on the incorrect path.

But I now think the reverse. This is what I think. In two parts:

1. It’s always the bad guys who first see the dangers and implications — for them and their easy business models — of different and obstinately held ideas to their preferred future-present: the one they considered, out of their absolute sense of entitlement, absolutely theirs forever. Ideas like the ones, never necessarily originally but for sure always firmly, I’ve continued to propound over the years.

2. It’s always the good guys who last see the virtues and positives — for them and their terribly oppressed democratic communities — of different and obstinately held ideas to their assumed future-present: the one they were told was a result of inevitable change I mean, and absolutely NOT theirs forever.

In truth, whilst change IS inevitable — just as #siliconvalley and its dreadful hangers-on have universally, dogmatically and terrifyingly proclaimed for over half a century — its NATURE never automagically was. It’s just a fact, this: just a fact, too. For #bigtech is an only “half-the-story #tech”. And only ever has been.

This is why, when you want to deliver transformation, you have to accept you won’t be liked.

Firstly, the bad guys won’t ever do anything but hate you with their casually polite, practised and breezily easy business smiles.

And this will happen for perhaps the first five years.

And their goal is to break you, and make you stumble, and then dispirit you to the extent, perhaps, you kill yourself.

But then they have a problem. If they sense there will, after all, be a “next five years”, they realise the sword they wanted all that time for you to fall on no longer usefully, or at least reliably, exists.

So they will try to get closer to you and maybe even persuade you that all the while the smiles they sent your way with minimal financial breadcrumbs attached were actually, all the time in question, offerings of real dough.

And some of us out here give in at this point and take the money and run. And then the bad guys close down the ideas, and life continues to get worse for everyone else. Despite our ideas. Despite their coming originally into being. Despite what might have been.

The thing is … this is the thing. If you are stubborn … not original at all … just irreversibly firm in your preferred outcomes, even as fabulously flexible in your means and ways of getting there … well … you may end up concluding what I did when I got to the second and third and fourth and fifth “five years”: you only need to be liked by one group of people.

That’s all it ever takes.

Just one group is needed.

This group being?

The good guys who one day will realise that the #meliandialogue can be upturned: the islands of the world can beat — hands-down — the totalitarians.

Islands?

Places where we continue to understand that once in our histories we built fortresses in order to expand outwards with security and safety first and foremost. And that this was a good idea. And that this was the best idea. And that this is our next best step now.

And then we shall be … NOT #athens, ever … no. Not that. Not the #valley that causes so many tears. Never that. We never could be.

Rather, people called #melians who no longer shall have any regrets.

Four things seen from Yugoslavia I remember profoundly of America

My mother was brought up in #communist #yugoslavia. The #uk saw this always as an acceptable #thirdway (#tonyblair’s own hadn’t been invented at the time).

The #us, meantime, had no such delusions.

At least, when I was a kid and being taken on summer holidays to what was always #croatia not #yugoslavia for my mum, that’s how I saw it — even when I was very young. You don’t know how bad it gets unless as a young man or woman you grow up checking your words even when lying on your own bed. You don’t know the evils of #communism until, like water, it seeps into everything you live.

It was, after all, the #british #foreignsecretary #douglashurd who argued non-#serbs should not be armed by the #allies because this would increase the total body-count. ‘Hardly seemed to matter that more non-#serbs would die than the aggressors in the matter, if such a policy had been followed. The important thing was to keep the total numbers down: liberty and freedom weren’t then ever fundamentals of #british #politics, now were they? Perhaps not now, either.


The foodbank crisis in the #uk no one must mention

Ultimately, it took the influence of the #us to righten the sinking ship. Maybe #margaretthatcher, too. In this sense, she was always a bit of an outlier.

But not that bit of the #uk establishment the likes of #hurd represented. A direct lineage can be drawn, tbh, from that assertion by #hurd and #mi5’s future moral and technological capitulation to #china and #russia both, in collaboration with the #british #conservativeparty as it became under #borisjohnson’s influence, alongside his not-so-secretive #russian funders and #oligarch friends.

I remember four things of the #us from that time, etched into my youthful #english brain like a sizzling brand on the rump of a breed of the best pedigree animal.

1. The magazines #time and #newsweek, bought at the newspaper shop in the harbour of #velilošinj: a little late in the week; but full of good journalism that in their analytical power were sufficient beacons of hope in themselves.

2. The then #internationalheraldtribune which I would buy with my own pocket money. It was a magnificent compendium of different newspapers. I remember reading one of the many I read over the years in a sun-infused piazza in #venice one morning, with #barrymanilow’s #copacabana floating out through a first-floor window. My magdalene, for sure …

3. Then there was #life magazine: what fabulous photographic reportage of the most deepening for a young mind like mine. I would read it once a holiday on the yearly visit to my mother’s friend #nada. She lived in #krapina — a small town not too far from #zagreb — and had been an #english #teacher all her life. She had them piling up in the corner of a room in her house. I’d riffle through them so joyfully whenever we visited. I’d spend hours with their colourful images.

I also loved #nada so much because she smoked so heavily, and my mother hated smokers. But for some reasons she couldn’t hate #nada. And she’s still alive, after all that tobacco: this wondrous big-hearted, small-town intelligence she manifests even now in her 90s. I will never forget how she loved, equally fulsomely, #american #waysofseeing when they weren’t what #trump et al turned them into.

4. Finally, #apollo. I was there when it happened. I was there when 13, too. I was so impressionable; yes I was, it’s true. I was impressed as well, because what I learnt from #nasa and its people all those years — and first and foremost 1 and its profound human sacrifice — set me up for a life where everything, even today, just has to still be all to play for.

And that’s what all these thoughts have led me to: just that.

Never give up.

Never.

Never when they assert that this or that #communism is ok. Never.

Never when they claim numbers outweigh principles, to save our humanity. Never.

And never, even when your homeland says you’re a paranoid schizophrenic instead of a gifted thinker, in order that no one will ever see you as a gifted thinker, and your gifts will never find a space to surface. Anywhere.

Never. Ever. Give. In.

Because I’m NOT #galileo. Never have been. And sincerely, frankly, firmly don’t intend to become.



a jagged sleep

jerking awake from slumber
instead of slowly
arising to the day

that's been my life
under the violence and abuse
of the people who used me

but now my jagged sleep
no longer makes me weep
because the move is latent

and the changes are patent
like parents of the child
most wise and true

and so when we actually
finally get it all onboard
it's democracy's sword

to democracy's enemies
we shall forge and fashion
and make to break

the abusers whose ruses
and approaches of putins'
and cocaine-fuelled decisions

have broken us all:
all this time we've been apart
without soul or heart

to be able to hope for better ways
and days of dreams
where the reams we write

truly serve the purpose
we were set on this rock
to perform and act out

like we knew already
how to rout
the monsters

that assailed our dark nights
as we slept in confusion
wounded by the clocks

where the sand ran out so fast
before our time it was:
yes it was it was it was ...

and so now it's all about this
and that
and whatever it ain't too

because it's time we put behind us
like rucksacks of the grandest explorers
the resentment that has separated

you and me from him and them
in order to just make it right
with the might of ALL our intelligences

and the perspicacities
of our clever cities and communities
where the only thing that's left

is to realise if human fire
and that extreme and creative criminality
battle us over and over

the only solution can be
more machines
at the service of more humans

not more humans
at the service of more machines ...
for this is the rightful way

where a sleep of a jagged
raggedly bewitched humanity
brings us lastly

to the senses we commonly lost
all these years
in utterly uncommon dazes

of months and weeks
and seconds and minutes
where the watch that was yours to be on

can now be the real solution
of the nation's challenges
instead of the real problem

of the terrible occasion:
the 9/11s and then there's hamas
and its brutal strategic song

sounding out like twisted voice
as gorging on the meats of hell
it sends us all to dwell on fears

and hatreds to the very max
where sitting there
omnipotent and forever

all we can see
is putin's russia
with democracy targeted

longitudinally and profoundly
as if a torpedo to the waterlines
of good fisherwomen and men

striving to be something at last
and never quite getting there
as the hamas we know

and the russia we battle
and the 9/11 we obviated
find that in ultimate outcome

we may overcome
in the name of a better world
our tested natures and failures

which all the above presupposed
and now may lead to summits
-- where not summats! --

of britain's best and europe's finest
and to the united states
of the most HONOURABLE of traditions

just this and just that
and just what we must do
from now on in ... from now on in

a final gamble
on absolutely everything
that we care for in the professional for sure

but in the personal too
(where not the personal TWO ...
and then again maybe

this can be you and me both)
when the truth of it emerged once
and now purposefully surges

for the benefit of all
and for the clarion call
of a NATURAL justice

and for just doing right
via the mightiest of sights
and the crosshairs

of the blessed
and the rested
and the rest of us SO yearning for the right

in order to find some way of being human
where all around us
lie the untruthful of these wars

like whores of devilishly ancient rhymes
and those times
that dispense with our attempts

to be good
as we ought
and as we were taught too it's true

because it's all true it is
what i say and proclaim yes it's true
so listen now

and please do both as
and how i want ...
do as and how i want and NEED

and sometimes have had to plead it's also true
just do it yeah?
and do it now ... and how!

thinking-time being what counts now

a poem by mil williams

my people, it’s true … that is, my family ♥️
we've had a lot of thinking-time you and i
more than meets the eye
more than the time that leads
to sighs of abandon perhaps
or perhaps not at all

i thought to call you many a time
and instead wrote rhymes too many for sure
but what i yearn for now really really do
is just some doing-time instead
where it's seeing you and talking that's the done

not being read (or not as the case may be)
but speaking head-to-head
of things that occupy humans when good
and feeling stuff that's real
without too many fears of tribal versions

that's where the thinking-time i've had
in your absence and now without the shouting
has led me to and it's funny but it's true
since what i know for sure is the case
is that all i want is to succeed in the personal

because that's what should count not taunt
and little of what we did all this time was good
and blame if it exists
was on my side just as much as all of yours
for having touched as i did

and for caring to sit only
on thrones of proclamation
instead of reaching out my hand
like we were a band of musicians
who knew full well that only music bodes well

but thinking-time sometimes does it
where doing-time clouds the mind
and muddies the sentient parts
of the brain's direct connectors to the heart
to such an extent

that we aren't what we once were
but only because work seemed the key
and the life we lost
because of all that rigour and optimisation
seemed much less than its real value

and that's true it is for sure
and now i realise it so fine
and i realise the truth of it all this evening
being the truth of my love for you
this evening now seeming to be so clear

because it's our brains dearest friend
and because of our blood
not despite our blood
that we understood each other so deeply
and so i realise i do

that my love for you
is constituted out of the fact
we not only are of the same blood
but because of this fact and where it's at
we have absolutely exactly the same brain

the one and the other
and together what's fun
in the happiest of wins
is that we cannot be anything we are not
and together we are more than a dot on a timeline

or a grain of sand on a beach
near dublin's fair estuaries
where the liffey still flows as life itself
and where first my brain encountered that recognition
i so yearned for all those decades

in the brain you have
of fabulous diversity and capable humanity
which being nothing less nor more
than the story of real love
everyone would treasure

and some might even measure
but not me at all not me my friend
because you are immeasurable
and it's a fact and an end
and that's where it's all at

and why i will always now doff my cap
to these ladies of the most true
and these thinkers of the most wise
and doers of unlimited strengths
that wend their ways

like these irishwomen of historical acts
who never having given up
find that the bitterness of a loss never redrawn
finds its eventual reward
in a gain of astonishing consequence

where the pain experienced
is finally replaced
by a pleasure as sheer as the cliffs of the west
and where the affection and admiration
of a blood more burnished than a fairie's gold

is good as it ever was to hold
like that day we hugged ever so briefly and yet so long
because what we saw wasn't just the cousin in the other
but a bosom soul of the kindest and most clear
in those few hours that we were verily near

and it's true it is and now i see
that what we had that day
was just being able to say and be understood
without having to repeat or relate more than once
and just never twice ...

and so all i know now
is that the professional will take me
away from where i was born
but despite the fact that it's obviously not the norm
i care more to mend and repair the personal with all

if all are now ready to say this truth
that whether we are angry or sad
or cruel or hard or mad or bad
the family we are is as diverse as can be
and as the shiniest stars you ever did see

and so this is what i want and this is where i go
to offer you all my hand and my soul
whenever you wish this time to return me
the person you are and maybe now want to be
both in equal measure and as equal treasure

for whilst you may take the person out of family
difficult it is to take the family out of person
and even when we struggle to accept each other
one day quite fine
i'll be your brother quite gladly

and you'll be my sister too
in couplets that rhyme beautifully
as the moments we once measured
do honest and sincere become the moments we learn
to treasure again ... without end

mil xxx

and he was right, too … wasn’t he? ♥️

on a human victory

https://gb2earth.com/research/newlean | https://newlean.org (ask me for the password if required — this is an ongoing project and developing whitepaper)

or what achievements really consist of

it's doing what you wanted 
but only hoped for
and maybe you wanted more than you hoped for
and maybe you expected deep down
the sound of total victory
and anything else for a while seems like less
and maybe even feels like a failure of the deepest of all
but in truth a total victory just ain't what humans are about
when human is what we're about
because a total anything
is a pyrrhic everything

and so i begin to warm to you finally
and the idea that without writing a single line of code
i have convinced one of the biggest organisations in tech
and those companies that work alongside them true
that just my words and terms of english
have been enough to show how a new world
exists right out there
and that it's no longer on my part a failure of the worst
in any shape whatsoever
nor a loss of the least
to propose that i might accept working with disruption of this nature
primarily because the culture of the big and the small
in this case become us
as one and the same
and the same and the one
since both of us converging separately anon
have arrived at conclusions of parallel lines
where arguments cogently strung together
on two-pagers of simple a4
eschewing as we do the fancy graphics
of "say what you're going to say
and then say it
and then summarise it"
and where in fact the bullets pointedly hit
the marks of zero innovation
and even less invention
because to follow these paths so well-trodden --
so religiously i mean --
is to die a death of a thousand mutts
as dog-days encroach and shroud our thinking

for it's time once again to move well on
from the old old old man's valley
where even the youngest entrepreneur
finds themselves trained up in the fuddy-duddy
of the mere tweaking of tech
so no one may rock the boats of existing portfolios
nor business models galore (but actually hoary as hell)

because it's time the bells of brand new relationships
consecrated on firm and financially win/win terms
begin to bring to the world
the teams and reams
of the gutenberg of intuitive thinking:

the printing-press of arationality
changing the way we do technology much more easily
and being as there's no better way to do this
than working back from the customer always
in combination with a new lean that reasons
with care and compassion
and rationales of the very best
to the very VERY maximum
HOW to extract the truths NO ONE says
but EVERYONE knows full well
and all too well
and as well as the next
as we lie at night suffering the lies
that tie the world up in knots
and which have blotted our futures
as they are held by their throats
gory and cruel as the fossil fuels they freely promote even now
by those who care only for planets outside
and little for the one we all grew up on --
and here i mean all of us
and how i mean it's clearly seen
and how it's been! -- because this IS it i say:
WELL time we found amongst the rich and poor
the course that aligns our interests both
and so nothing better than a brand new process
that unleashes our humanity as never before

and so i'm ready to see what's next
not as failure for another
nor for me or them
nor total victory for me or another
nor us as we might see ourselves
nor even as the outputs of the lyricists of ancient harps
as they start to sing again out loud and proudly
but rather quite instead
a victory of the grandest for a GOOD citizenry
wishing to bring about a humanity of the brightest
by simply enabling our gut feeling and intuitive ingenuities
in ways we never imagined ever

this is what it is then this text i write
as i send this poem to the people who know much better than me
what's happening on the inside-out
and how this will affect the outside-in
and so from me -- as this --
just as a missive
of my final conformity
and my capacity to embrace you now --
those of you
who know (and how you do!) --
in my full cognisance
of the scientific and evidence-based realities
which (burnished anew)
will renew and repair the horrors these warlike peoples
have visited on the rest of us without qualms
where to date only psalms are able for now
to protect us with their prayers
and beseechings and readings
of the sacred stones
and the rites that serve strangely to right our wrongs ...

because whatever happens now
the killing-field will be levelled
and new lean will become the tool we use --
shining as we will ... for sure! -- to release
as we must and should
and ought to and would have
many many decades ago
if only we had cared to listen
to the equally sacred understandings in tow
which we blithely ignored
as stupidly tawdry attempts
to go beyond making easy money
and actually solving problems
which weren't just making more money it's true
in manners
quite ill-mannered and foolish and unkind
as we rewound to the past
even as our tech is of now
and even as we chose firmly to screw the world
for everything we could scrape
and make ours
to the exclusion of a legacy
we just DIDN'T want to make at all free
in any way whatsoever whatsoever

and so now all this changes
as i approach the companies
which working together
in common cultural dissonance and rub
with different ideas yet common outcomes even so
and uncommon sensibilities in beautiful consonances
for these are the resonances
which enriching
now demand we hand over to each other our destinies
not as passive fates
too late to the party to do anything wise
but instead to a common goal
that SHALL be that of rescuing our species
from its long-term idiocies
by tapping into that fabulous skillset and virtue
present all this goddamn time:
the intuition of a humankind
multiplied up a billion times and more
being you and you and you and you
and me and her
and thee and tree
and us ALL seeing clearly anew
as if never before ...
... ever before:
THIS all being
our shared future-present collective fate
awaiting us all from now on in
and no longer too late to the party i mentioned
because that party is the citizenry we will fully reconstitute
not as brutal future robots of silicon
but just sentient human beings
achieving the total victories of me and you
no longer gone ...

https://open.spotify.com/track/2W6PNGCN4PGwPMf1jYazL4?si=qTYn168wSXWp-Z8v3GylfA&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A6S1UmnFR0ThrsO2lV82Moa

being that cruel cowardly mobbery [of family]

what my poem is about: rescue
i met her one fateful day 
and it was to be the worst day of my life
though i didn't know it at the time
and then a bare twelve years later
the idiocy repeated itself
and i thought it was going to be better
and it wasn't oh it wasn't
but it took me longer much longer
to work out that one was as toxic as her mother

two women of the worst there have ever been
and both probably yes certainly
as neurodiverse as myself too
but not what they claimed the first was
in her spymaster's cover
of equally terrifying prognosis
because what she was was never polar
and never a pillar of anything close
to what one might term community at all at all

black widows being what they both were
and in fact still are for sure
being women capable
of widowing their menfolk whilst they're still alive
and through their stratagems
of cruel cunning always without the us
just women who weaponise
their every word and act
against the fact that humans are just that

because unforgiving is their first name
and unforgivable their last
where precisely both become the outcome
of coming out as sharp and clear as any assassins
and hateful like none in the history of humanity
and abusive as per the worst whores
of political graft on those rafts of irish river
when the personnel that staff the offices
which back those who break into splinters

all the democratic instincts
and all the technological fingerprints
that could've saved us
from the foolish hubris of the zuckerbergs
of pornographic advert networks
all connected and joined up
to the greater glory of the altmans of these days
where fucking with a human being's head
is quite the right thing to do

and so they think for sure
that daughter and mother i was writing about earlier
that they have zero to do with THIS world
now bleeding at both the seams
and at the most unseemly
of global violences
but actually these two women
as per many other humans
have lived lives of absolute choice

and are intimately at fault
both and each
for choosing an easier life such an easier one
of material possessives
like grammatical strictures of the most frightful
that serve only to throttle change
and make their beloved
just rags and tags and sagging supports
to be ripped into strips

and then the intellectual regressives
of smarmy logic and sophisticated sophistry
which have led them quite separately
to bottle that last moment and opportunity
to demonstrate a real and healthy ambition
and aspiration too
for them and me and theirs
and then us all together
to prove that kin could be very much more

than now it will ever be able to be
or should indeed i say and verily repeat
because in the "should" of all this
we are haughtily saying how we never failed
when actually we did and forcefully have ...
and so when at the level of family
unable to communicate savvily
how could we expect government
to rule any better

or succeed where as individuals all these years
we just preferred to choose and manifest our violence
and then fuck each other up
with purpose and intentionality
as aggressive as the most violent criminality
because in truth
that's been my experience
of nuclear and extended family both:
kin as a synonym of ALL that's bad in the human experience

and so i see it as it was
and will now always be
and so i sense it's time to move away forever
grateful that i am still way distant
from a suicide my own family imposed on me
and worked so hard in order to direct me towards
as if awarding me a solution
that would've absolved them
of all deep responsibility

and which would have meant
they would never have had to face the truth
of what still they are
being that cruel cowardly mobbery
of people you grow up with
thinking what they do to you
they do sincerely for you
when in reality
they wanted you to die all along

and so it ultimately comes to this
and for sure it does it does
and so it ends down in the pit of time's pendulum
hanging from figurative threads
as i tease out my next steps
because they won't involve anyone
from that which once
we could have affectionately called fam
and which in no way ever meant kindness of any kind

and as the offers begin to present themselves
now i work really hard to expunge
that which they said could not be expunged
being the capacity that family
and kin and sibling-hood
and cousinly beings multiple
has to convince you they are right
and you are wrong
and when you feel uncomfortable

the fault is all yours
and when they abuse and bully you
it's you who's doing the bullying
and you who's the abuser ...
because THAT'S the one undeniable achievement
of these two women
throughout the mouldering tapestry of their lives
and those family groupings which encroach on us
never liberating ever

and then all the cousins and uncles and fathers
and mothers and aunts of creeping witness
being what they ALL bear witness to:
that kin-hood is a kind of jail of the very worst
and perhaps at that
a panopticon too
where a surveillance of the most total
impresses on the brain born yet free
the rusting bars of increasingly imprisoning deeds

yes indeed it's true
for whilst people and friends of choice
are to be rejoiced and coveted
and embraced and hugged
and treasured and envied
in ways that ennoble us to do the best of things
family of the manner i have experienced
is a curse of the worst and much much more
and is surely finally

to be left irreversibly behind
when finally clearly proving
that its equally irreversible unkindnesses
will never revert to a forgiveness of redemption again
nor to the spirits of generosity
like ghostly figures capable of planing over us
in those magical moments when i looked out
through the child's eyes
which i learnt EVERYTHING from

with the newborn brain i was blessed with
once upon a time
for only then
through the family i grew up alongside
to discover how its innocence was to be ripped out
like strips flaying off
the thief's stinging back
as the blood of life still seeps and stains
the human being i am now determined to fully recover

wilfully leaving my past behind
where the past is the only country
it deserves to inhabit
for cruel
for violent
for abusive
for manipulative and for bullying
and for woman
child and man gone intentionally wrong

goodbye to you all
and to you all
fare thee as well
as you've never known in life
how properly to deliver on
nor how to forge or fashion
even wryly
nor express through compassion
never mind a truly felt passion:

yes i do i do i do
i wish you all luck
as you continue to fuck
with the heads of those
who really
by this time
and way before
and long ago
you should've learnt to love

On being a #truthmachine in a world which doesn’t care for the #truth


I’ve struggled all my life to make what I am a saleable commodity.

I don’t mean in a bad way.

I mean in the sense of people who can pay me for my work seeing the value-add in doing so.

My bread-and-butter revenues — high-level, mission-critical, proofreading and copyediting — disappeared in a puff of #derivativeai smoke last year, as clients in advanced #marketing functions made a beeline for #openai and #microsoft’s hype. Now #stabilityai’s fate shows how stable all these proposals really aren’t.

I’ve been applying for roles in a variety of #publishing fields — after all, I have a university master in the subject from Universidad de Salamanca, as well as more than a decade in a broad range of activities relating to the sector.

But I sense my big #marketing client has put out the word that I am not to be employed.

Whether true or not, what troubles me is how ineffective the world more broadly is at understanding the groundbreaking capabilities and world-upturning skillsets that people like me — brains like mine — can deliver.

I have a problem, a really big one: if I put all I can do into one #cv — not just have done which is much much less — it looks like I can’t focus on anything and must be bad at everything.

I really need a #jobsite which allows to deliver on niche needs with say five or six radically different skill interests.

But even this wouldn’t solve my problems and challenges entirely.

One of the biggest reasons that has led to my current work difficulties is the very fact that, actually, where I do add real value is knowing quite a lot about a huge number of things: and it’s not in my knowledge I add value but in my ability to make connections between fields that most people would assume can’t be connected.

Although I don’t like the term #polymath very much, it is relevant here. So. How CAN #polymaths like myself get paid for being able to uncover things that potential employers could benefit from if they knew what was out there?

Because I don’t just know how to understand more elegantly known unknowns: I actually sense better than most people unknown unknowns. And what’s more, I know how to enable these others to achieve similar capabilities.

I’ve been a trainer and facilitator all my life: I know how to transmit this stuff.

What do we think, then, about my condition? What is essentially my conundrum, too …

How can I convince someone to pay me for things they ignore? Let’s take #mi5: in 2003, they used #mentalhealth legislation to put me away for saying what #snowden said ten years later.

gb2earth.com/citizenx

I’ve been banging on about a #tech-driven #gaslighting for decades now: first, as experienced by myself; second, as observed in others:

• “When AI claims prediction and means proscription 2. How can you make out you’re predicting a person’s future when you’re not? By dismantling their agency: that is, their ability to exercise free will…” | https://mils.page/2023/09/03/when-ai-claims-prediction-and-means-proscription/ | #milspage

And been providing solutions:

gb2earth.com/bletchley

gb2earth.com/cognitive/intuition

But what do we do in societies where the people who know covert stuff in ways no one generally imagines — and yet still want to do good with what they see — have less power than most, whilst the people with real power (generally influence more than power) assume that the power they have confers more knowledge of the weird that inevitably hurts citizens, but here in some automatic, automagical way?

And it’s not just my beef with #uk #security.

When you’re effectively a #truthmachine, how do you make it pay in a world which doesn’t really care for the truth?

The attached #cv of mine is what I would call a #polymath #cv. But it’s also the #cv of a man who ONLY believes in pursuing the #truth as best he can.

Anyone care to channel that skill? Anyone care to pay for it?

If so, I’d love to regain my bread-and-butter. I’d love to speak with you today:

positive@secrecy.plus

• +44 7916 750897



on british intelligence’s taste in interior decoration

it's good to burn bridges 
when they're built by bastards
who occupy cozy offices
in central london office blocks

it's good to burn bridges
when they're built by agencies
who occupy anything
but spaces of self-reflection

and who are incapable
of respecting the enemies we face
to such an extent that they then see ...
... they always see themselves

as better than anyone else
and thus will remain inferior forever
to everyone out there far or near
who ever you'll find out here at all

because british intelligence
is anything but ...
and british intelligence
is stuck in that rut ... well it is ...

... of empire and suchlike
and then it's the pleasant island
and verdant and stuff
and so well ... they say and oh they may

but actually not at all at all
and so then again as eyesight dulled
and vision quite blinded and sullied and hidden
and quite blinkered and suffering

as if the tree of oak itself
is rotting from the core
and nothing more is to be done
when all is sung and said

and just the well-read remain as saviours
who actually can't any more anyways
in a country where the rule of law
is no longer treasured by the enforcers of the same

never mind the citizens they once said they served
and so it's as if it's a stain on the country's disdain
in respect of anything that might truly lead
to life and its wily interventions

greater now it's true
than the declensions of the idiots
who run this country through influence not politics
like the strata of medieval wastes grossly uncovered

as they make haste
oh they do
to run the lives of me and you
as badly as one might wish to conceive

because they have no idea at all
and they really have none worth talking of
whilst instead of chasing the real criminality
they prefer to focus on you and me

saying our desire for privacy
makes us just as dangerous
as those they let slip in cities of the north
and others of balding and silly nick

and as they did so terribly that day
and as they claimed to rue the horror
anyhow and every way
they let the bad they lost sight of at such cost

bomb to awful bits the innocents of terror
whilst all this time
they've feathered their own closets and offices
into things quite truly grand and fine

as if the most important thing today
in all our democracy of hey and wow
is to show how good
their taste in interior decoration

enables their decidedly stylish and cool
creatively fabulous comforts of label
rule over the safety of the ordinary citizens
who find themselves utterly unable any more

dying hopelessly in the gutters as they are
of the homeless and the buggered
that end up left all to one side
by the men of british intelligence

who knowing all they have
all these years of strife
actually and truly and forcefully and cruelly
really really don't give a fuck