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In the March 14th, 2020 edition of The Economist, the column Bagehot was entitled “The meaning of conservatism” and it reflected the views of British politico Nick Timothy. Here is an excerpt on modern conservative thinking. First, Nick Timothy has been at the heart of the British government for over a decade, first as Theresa…
Take a moment to let this sink in.. and here’s a thought to remember as you read this: Marx said, “Remove one freedom per generation and soon you will have no freedom and no one would have noticed.” There was a chemistry professor in a large college that had some exchange students in the class….
Right click on the memes and reshare – please. (Common sense must prevail.) Chris George is an Ottawa-based government affairs advisor and wordsmith, president of CG&A COMMUNICATIONS. Contact: ChrisG.George@gmail.com
Political hot potatoes cannot feed the populous Watching our legislatures steam and over-boil They do nothing for the Main Street or our kitchen table Today’s political headlines are so far removed from the daily household routine that there is small wonder people tune out, turn off, and cynically choose to ignore politics In…
I’ve awaken beside my world today oceans swelled in her eyes and I imagine two lovers on a hill running through hellish pleasure / pleasureful hell. and then the egg cracked as the hawk swooped to eat the last remains of the broekn hearts: buzzards began to circle above the resting lovers unaware of death’s…
one night you’re there there is no answer to where you came from hiding in my mind so long and then like Athena bursting apon my head you stretch, sigh — and change the sheets you had given all your love as you sank onto the mattress — the body heat buring the stale air…
and you will find somebody else see the open coffin ready for you. It remains the last element in the relationship hit the wall: wake in a cold sweat! let the music blare! because the grave will remain for you until the end and everyone will need to be comforted when you find someone else…
I simply want to live again To feel my life, feel my breaths Feel the aches and pains The draws of my breath Every fiber of my being Of the space I occupy and All the space that is around me In this overbearing world. This large, unfathomable, hungry world In which I am…
where has my horse gone? that carried me into the fog of the downs where swords rang and cries of anguish could be heard and prayed for. where are those beasts of ambitions which rode the reins of time? mine has fallen from underneath me and I feel so vulnerable on my own two feet….
was it my father’s son who threw in the towel? was it he who cried lonely, naked, stripped of courage, his strength his pride, his principles, his name? seriously, hang it up. if it is always on your mind. It’s doing no one else any good to watch you suffer. – Chris George…
She hung onto my sleeve allowing her tears to fall onto my jacket (I suppose it is a small price to pay for this cruel reality) I could sense she knew the ways of lovers and the way lovers smile and how they say hello and how they will whisper goodbye. As she struggled to…
my ribs ring as your truths pound and then sear like hot irons on open flesh wounds; your words drive me back against the wall hopelessly grabbing at my entrails, that you have so nicely carved up for our consumption. And no doubt you will find me from the trail of vomit that reveals I…
aren’t you melodramatic a shish kebab meant for royalty sausages for the public one man’s meat… and then the convenient martyred victim searching for pathos in a world made for Oedipus as the essence of your life slips from your control and time slides pass the allotment of chance allowing the impetus to drain, the…
can anyone anywhere reveal the dream of a writer he who is endlessly searching relentlessly attempting, inevitably failing better to ask whether you could capture the light of providence and project that ray so that others may bask in its glorious reflections – Chris George October 1979
the music could be heard the solemn count of the funeral procession as it winds down the corridors of my mind and halts the methodic downbeat comes to a rest when the coffin appears — lid raised white, stone cold you look into her eyes and exchange the stares of her past and your future…
the whirlwind of life is all around yet many find life cannot be found – Chris George October 1979
Every man must eventually run up against an Uncumber Whether he lives to love or loves to live. Only let him prey to the saints that his beard be longer and whiter (so that he is able to see pass the hair). Say it’s so Robertson… – Chris George January 1981
Enjoy life while you can – enjoy each moment Take in all experiences as they come For it is all fleeting and will not last The moments just disappear – without notice slip into some hidden spot behind you and are lost in the darkness of time past. – Chris George Originally August…