The words aren’t there…

I have no words,
No words at all.
No words to share,
No words for all.
For I am White,
And while I long,
For the words to come,
To right my country’s wrongs,
The Words won’t come,
Won’t come at all.
My country oppressed,
It traded in slaves,
It took bonded workers,
To appropriate lands,
To push out autochthons,
And steal their homes.
My country is racist,
It believes it is better,
It believes that those of colour,
Are beneath it,
And it is wrong.
I don’t want to be a part of this,
I don’t want to be any of this.
I want people to be equal,
No matter their Colour,
Sexuality,
Gender,
Religion or Beliefs,
I want the world to realise,
There’s more to life than this.
There’s Love and Fun and Song ,
There’s Peace and Games and Food,
I want my country to apologise,
To admit that it was wrong.
To remove from those it enslaved,
The life and love and song.
But apologies aren’t accepted,
Even when the words aren’t wrong.
So,
I have no more words,
No more words at all.
No more words to share,
No more words for all.

Mandy Ward, South Wales, UK, 2016

Just a Quick Mention…

There are lots of places that you can find me on the Internet… I will apologise in advance though, I spend most of my time on Facebook,  so if you really need to get hold of me,  pop in on my author page and I’ll get back to you as fast as I can.

Here are all the places you can find me on the Web!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKiraMorgana/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kira_m_author

G+ : https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KiraMorgana

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/teigrprincess/

Pinterest: https://uk.pinterest.com/teigrprincess/

Musings on The Doctor…

… and don’t tell me that you don’t know Who or what  I’m talking about – I mention that I’m a Whovian often enough… 

Ahem..

Anyhoo, I actually managed to book a dr’s appt for tomorrow afternoon via the automated phone service (miracles will never cease) and because I was doing it on Speakerphone, my Fiance could hear it.
He started laughing because the automated voice says things like “You have an appointment with THE DOCTOR at…” and his imagination ran away with him, imagining me going to the surgery and fangirling over The Doctor who had just turned up in his TARDIS.

He started laughing, so when I got off the phone, I asked why and he explained. That started me off in a chain of thought (similar to the one that created “Night of The Nanobot) about future archaeologists thinking that Whovians were a religion…

…and you have to admit that some Whovians almost seem to take the show as seriously as a religion…

And that morphed into this:

Our Doctor, who art in T.A.R.D.I.S,
Hallowed be thy Sonic Screwdriver.
The crisis comes,
Thy Will be done,
On Earth as it is in Space.
Bring us this day our Fish Fingers and Custard,
And forgive us our Stupidity,
So that we might forgive the Stupid in Us.
Lead us running down the corridor,
And deliver us from Daleks,
For thine is the Memory,
The Genius and Admiration,
Until the End of the Universe,
“Thank You.”

Do you think I ought to carve it on a block of stone for those archaeologists to find?