EXOPOLITICAL ART

As they say every picture tells a thousand words. The world of exopolitical art is a world of creative and imaginative images and many of these would make wonderful headlines in various newspapers, magazines and posters.

What better way to increase the impact of exopolitical messages than to incorporate them in painting competitions, arts festivals and other events.

Here is an exopolitical epic poem written in 1980 by Andrew Hennessey.

It tells of the history and possible future of mankind.

S h i p s   a r e    S a i l i n g.

A ship can carry man and his possessions to new lands, new

valleys, new lives. As man himself is a vessel for his spirit

he too will place his hand on the ships tiller knowing that the                 

navigator within himself will bring his possessions and his

spirit to port.

This is the story of a search.

And to our Earth the restless souls

intent upon their ordained goals for one day,

unto each and every man the song creation had began.

Hunger feeling, swims the silver fish are running loud as antelope

bring the heat, burning meat gather roots and berry

cold and pain the whitened rain

chills through skins, cold the mud

skins of white fall from the sky

warm one moves and wonders why

Pain light burns as damp as nets.

In the water, berry-root-giver swims like deer

but move it not,

the nets like flowers in time of white

or angry death noise at time of fight -

nets bring hunger now.

Deer noise gone at time of white

warm one now is hungry.

Cold moving noise like breath of chase

and berry-root-giver starts to swim

to lands of deer,

Then slow as hunt, fast as breath

warm one runs with I,

to water cold we run and hold

the berry-giver food no longer

carries we from cave and many,

fast we go the roots we break

roots for sky and roots

for dark soft many times with breaker.

Ships are sailing,

blow the horn

Why the anger, why forlorn

the Ocean draws us nearer.

In time we speak a little more

and name and draw

and dance and sing

of loveliness the giver brings.

Creator mighty woman stands

bearing gifts of crops,

she plans to nourish, give us life

and to her loved ones wisdom show

and in our land

our children grow

fulfilling dreams and making treasure

and for Christian, Hope,

the Temple measure

though none thought yet to build it.

In fertile lands our seeds will sow

then in time the stocks Will grow

and to our Gods we are devout

though they punish us with angry drought

our store rooms bare we mourn this day

our village did the Gods betray

for in a moon we pass away

to another valley.

But on our land before we leave

mats of rushes we then weave

and slowly now begin to measure

the size of craft to horde our treasure,

Gems so bright that any night

might adorn beloved priestess.

and so with the river we then go

to better lands we do not know

for the  wines of life do better grow

sweet in Chieftains cellar.

and for our bread, 'tis better said

the fields we work and labour

not our own, though future sown

and of years we keep the tally

and one day soon we board a craft

and sail for other va1leys

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn

the ocean draws us nearer.

Still we plough, much older now

and soldiers feed Us as they please

and Chieftains have become the Kings

and hungry fall upon their knees

as the temple player sings

of learning that the spirit frees

though where he heard is doubtful.

And to our toils, the rocks we bring

and build a wall that will not fall

in battle with the army

from the valley next.

And in our wall the soldiers tall

do order life and help us pray

and ask of us to build today

a better heathen temple.

Their Gods, you know, are not our own

but we have all heard the doubters moan

in their Godless dungeons.

So our children grow and pray

and proud the house we keep today

though our roof is not our own.

And beneath these stars with orbits strange

a dark departure we arrange

though this be against the laws

our restless spirits have a cause

to seek a virgin garden.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn

the ocean draws nearer.

And though at sea the merchants ply

the fruits of toil from slaves unseen

their adorned persons ashen pale

on sighting close the ebon sail

of sultry, rich and jealous Queen.

We pass them by, the knives of war

and set our tiller to the sky

that holds the setting Sun, as then at last to port we come

yet power and reason with our wealth

buys off the fingers pointing treason

as death through windows in its stealth

has cause to hide

and then endangers

the lives of those unwanted strangers

anchored in the port.

We leave that night with starry wind

some sailors have their knuckles skinned

in those costly taverns.

We pass the hunters now at anchor

their hungry oarsmen die of waste

reddened backs against the whip

of evil in a Kingly ship.

We watch with pity helpless men

and then at last we see again

that Eden now must wait.

So now we travel all at night

thanking gold for our salvation

hugging coast with navigation

as moon will draw us on.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn,

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.

But in one port a trap was sprung

our gold was taken, whilst mothers clung

to their childrens lives.

Though what fate gave for futures hope

is to our leaders dark.

It was not long ere all our people

said goodbye to all we knew,

but with bonds of love we pledge above

to break the chains of slavery.

And so our captors turned to flee

as villages upon the coast

shone like beacons in the sea.

The legions were with death advancing

hewing swords upon the free

and in that night we saw our chance

whilst with the flames our shadows dance

we take again good fortunes chance

and take a nervous merchantman

before it hoists its sail.

And in the night there is a battle

and merchant with his frightened prattle

speaks of trade in west

and how that if we let him live

he’ll trade how he knows best.

We kept the man as mercy must

but in him though we didn't trust

though the west does call again.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn

the ocean draws us nearer.

Now in this land we wish to settle

and how the forests try our mettle

though feuding Kings as oft before

bar us from their ornate door

at the coming winter.

Axe and sword the metal rusts

whilst fight we for some mouldy crusts

to keep our kin alive.

And in our hearts the thaw and warmth

again returns and ever heed

our parents dear

who tell of distant sun.

And in this land we find again

the Goddess over mortal men

and in the temples in the woods

those ancient men the Kingly Druids

keep us on the track.

But to our feuding misty Isle

came the might of legions dark

who cut their way all through a land

as sacred as the Goddess planned

till red the cloth and red the water

standards midst the ghastly slaughter

of all that we hold dear.

one day though came to our ears

news that Empire had its fears,

its iron reach had spanned too far

and in such haste its conquests waste

retreating by the polar star

to ships all bound for home.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn

the ocean draws us nearer.

So now we rest and become strong

in northern lands do we belong

and power and light of Goddess past

comes again to us at last

and how our foes do fear it.

And in our vales we welcome strangers

whom our very life endangers

A sturdy faith upon our paths

poor the clothes yet rich believer

in mighty Christ

the worlds redeemer.

Our Goddess smiled and became one

as mother to this loving son.

And faith was true as well we knew

our lore was rich with men undone

by greed and gold.

And to our lands, monastic charm

prayed to keep us safe from harm

and wine and Christ and cross and stone

blessed all our Kingly bone.

But from the sea came to us craven

raising fire in every haven

death and pain, dishonours plunder

that tore our very lives asunder

long we fought and long we sought

our Viking foes

who stealth and evil taught

but with our cups and with our wives

they sailed away with all our lives

into the mists morn.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn

the ocean draws us nearer.

Perish policy and cunning

perish those who fear the light

the politics of evil caused

beginnings of a deadly blight.

From fire and torment in the dark

no progress did our wisdom mark,

With feud and poison and a lie

as innocence made a hopeless sigh

as all its martyrs fell.

and in the darkness, evils light

condemned our love unto a hell,

Priests of power, Kings of deed

took our island and its need

and forged an iron chain,

then overseas the jealous watched

and took our traders gain.

But a magic fire had come to us

and to our fleets we now prepare

the tyrants do our ports ensnare

then let them feel the cannon.

Torn rigging, sundered sail

the stately timber starts to fail

upon embattled sea.

Kings of this and Queens of that

now wish upon a throne they sat

as Empires fear the sea.

Our iron isle its timbers hewn

has built the ships that now lie strewn

about a chilly ocean.

Pirates bold for slaves are sold

and innocents besides

in rotting ships they lie in chains

in hulks that sail the turning tide.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn,

why the anger, why forlorn

the ocean draws us nearer.

And now our kin, their only sin

a need for loaf of bread

have by tyrants been betrayed

an ocean is their bed.

Those slaves who lived through transportation

have in time prepared a nation

though an isle of mists is in their mind,

and parted from our parent-kind.

Some to cities, grimy mills others dying in the hil1s,

of a distant land.

Now our isle begins to build

and terror falls upon the skilled

for they are put in prison

the locks and chains given for their pains

a pittance which their family gains

to buy the cloth which in turn pays

for the profit for those far off days

the owner buys a ship.

And there in port majestic clipper

moored beside a factory quay

that takes the cloth and iron goods

crashing through the silver spray

to far off heathen lands.

And to its crew comes a commotion

sighted now a rocky ocean

howling wind and tearing sail

God let not the rudder fail.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.

The kings and countries build for war

and engines haul upon the coal,

and fuel the looms and load the trains

our sovereign will an Empire gain.

And ships of wood no longer could

withstand the might of guns

steel on steel glowing black

hammered in the red hot mills

built a hull that power brought

that would a fearsome Empire kill.

So peace alas was not to be

For since the dawn of history

our fate has been to fight

And so our iron went to sea

its deadly guns were blazing

and in its power won the hour

and kept our trade routes free

so passed that war

but peace was not what we were for

for evil rose again.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.

A war upon this ailing world

our lives into a chaos hurled

that purged our love in fire.

The Earth once more to burn in war

whilst our island stands yet free.

And from our friends across the sea

the ships do bring our victory

but prowling in the murky deeps

a ship that underwater keeps

and sailors ne'er let their vigil sleep

for death slips through the water.

But evil faltered and it failed

with bombs and ghosts

the madness quailed

and lost became the blind.

And from our shores an army moved

in victory its promise proved.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.

To our land came ships of worth

bearing black the gold of Goddess Earth

though now we speak much less of her

for blessed are our children

in the Earth they made,

and now the concrete paves our way

upon the green displayed.

Today our children travel far

leaving on a painted liner

to see the fruits of paradise

whilst crime ferments the fruits of vice

against a prohibition.

Some they say will not come back

to lands anew my people go

and oil that fuels another ship

so high above the mountain snow

roars in a farewell.

And continent and continent

grew in wealth but torn apart

linked by words that from the start

had promised only wealth.

And back to a better clime

for pay and love our children go,

whilst our furnace cold is ruined and old

to pay our debts they say is sold

the fruits of all our labours.

So at the ports they take to flight

and with some sadness in the night

more children yet depart.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn,

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.

And with our engines now we soar

to where our dreams had gone before

and joyful rose our songs of praise t

o grace creation for our days

as footsteps found the moon.

And as we wept for those on Earth

we saw the craft between the stars

bearing all the battle scars

of a rutted footing.

And then we really saw the sun

a-blazing like these other stars,

we see the need to sail for Mars

or anything would do.

The mines of home must have a rest

for man must face his hardest test

no infant more the babe of home

ungrateful child has gone to roam

amongst the silver dust.

Yet ships of ore do little more

than whet the growing appetite,

land is failing, try our best

to take the children on a quest

to settle somewhere else.

The gems we bear must better fare

in a virgin port

What wonders plan the rights of man

Salvation for us all

For powers in the galaxy will liberate from Thrall

But in the hopes aboard those ships

A word of thanks escapes our lips

for this second chance.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn,

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.

In matter far across our space

is born the rower of cur race

and in our mind are deeds of kind

for in a moment, our thoughts of love

join in the starry void above           

faster still than matter bright.

Such energy upon us pour,

that in love we open heavens door

But toil and atom bring the reason

why to transport all our tools

for the airy soul can go at will

yet leave behind its body

What power strange that needs not fuel

and lives outwith our time and space,

but yet the problem is to span

the gulf of stars that subdue man.

For in our matter pulsing slowly

was a power moving lowly

but quench its thirst with energy

and in its substance lay the key

that would unlock gravity

to travel in the stars,

And some have lost the need to travel

thinking better to unravel

the power in faster light.

So now our souls adieu to port

and leave behind the stars of night

that they will enjoy the travel

in a heaven bright,

Aboard the Ship of Willpower.

Ships are sailing, blow the horn,

why the anger, why forlorn,

the ocean draws us nearer.