poetic ethnography::chants
song for you (emo punk).
writing
revolution pose.
revolution pose.
I.
cannot afford the
patience of a
pacifist,
fist,
fist
through the air.
II.
long, long meetings,
readings,
leninists and marxists
speaking
without ending.
III.
an alien
under this nation,
a dissident
that can’t pretend-
consent/defend
an international incident
created by capitalist governments.
sitting under a wishing
tree, wishing
to be palestinian or muslim.
stuck inside this mexican skin,
wondering
where the revolution
migrated to or went.
IV.
how goes the movement now?
red work and mass work.
theory and practice and schisms.
gentrification and police brutality and the masses
slowly fading away.
wasting like energy inverted on itself.
how goes the movement now?
09.10.02.
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re.
poetic ethnography::chants
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piece for frustrated dreamers.
poetic ethnography::chants
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no one to dance or chat with.
poetic ethnography::chants
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little drummer boy.
poetic ethnography::chants
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corporate democracy confuses.
corporate democracy confuses.
what’s up with governments acting like corporations?
should i be confused, amused or what?
should i keep on staring into the idiot box?
should i choose to participate or not?
should i just get on my knees and pray that it all stops?
anyone want a world of activists or puppet presidents?
let guns decide while the world divides over markets being
globalized?
dream of aliens on distant planets or settle things at home?
what’s up with governments?
what’s up with governments acting like they care?
what’s up with governments acting like corporations?
can anything be fixed without reading marx?
because the
third world debt
isn’t getting paid,
and the g-8 can choke them by it with a chain,
but it isn’t getting paid.
what’s up with governments acting like corporations?
what’s up with governments building space stations?
what’s up with this country pimping its new world democracy?
07.24.01.
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and now she.
and now she.
and now she scatters,
drying her bones,
soaking through flesh.
let’s see it,
my heart leash out,
your heart leash out
to prove we’re alive.
scream at the world,
until what?
until we break.
until we become
or crawl.
eyes colliding to end the night.
she seems to
escape into her
wall in space.
through shredded hearts,
have a dream,
until what?
how long?
until we scatter.
before our ashes
become scattered
she questions herself,
“how much longer can i stay here?”
throughout
the universe
her verse
scatters.
2001.
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Chapter 2: chants.
chants
access america an exercise in angst and now she corporate democracy confuses little drummer boy no one to dance or chat with piece for frustrated dreamers re revolution pose song for you take violent vehicle words for ghosts forgotten youth screaming
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to stars.
poetic ethnography::rants
UP!::urban po'E.Tree(s) 