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Once again,
Sid and Doris Heeohm-Kountie,
Balding and quasi-menopausal,
Find themselves
At the Greenbelt Festival,
In Cheltenham,
Gloucestershire.
Horses for courses.
It is the annual
Anti-pilgrimage
To yesterday's memories
Of what might have been
If the Holy Spirit
Had been a bit more streetwise
In the pre-mortgage,
Pre-wife-and-two-veg years,
Of fundamentalist
Spiritual formation.
What is the narrative here?
And what is the metanarrative?
The narrative is
That this is Cheltenham,
Not Middlesborough.
Nor is it Baghdad
Or Banda Aceh
Or Darfur
Or Kashmir
Or Lebanon
Or Ramallah.
We're not talking about
Engagement with real issues
On the ground, here;
We're talking about
Talking about
Not engaging with real issues
On the ground,
But not engaging
With empathy:
Christian social action through the arts
As directed from
The depths
Of the middle class armchair.
You need bottom at Greenbelt:
The narrative is radical.
The metanarrative, however,
Is less decisive.
At Greenbelt
You have to learn
To expect the expected.
The Greenbelt Festival
Is Tunbridge Wells
At prayer.
Hold the front page.
..............................................................
Greenbelt - the view from the Death Star
Disappointed at Greenbelt
Men make such hopeless priests
Why is church so serious?
More Norfolk koans
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Saturday, August 25, 2012
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