are we?
or are we not?
getting bitter in the process?
of provoking a change?
of repeatedly
coming to realize
that the joke is on us?
that by nature
that force
that keeps us separated
that divides us and conquers
that pure, distilled form of oppression
the evil that lurks in the shadows
of alienation
is but a web of mirrors and smokescreens and lies?
it does not exists
it never WAS born
and therefore
never WILL die

though it certainly has
gotten us sufficiently annoyed
enough to focus our attention on it
enough to trace its roots back to the void
to track it’s habits to a system
electrify the fence around it
call it out for what it is
especially in public
right… there
between
the cross hairs
pull the trigger
BAM! DESTROYED!
applaud sign on
camera pan and zoom out
and… go to commercial

behold
the revolution
lives in the heart
of a hopeless romantic
one
who would prefer dying
than losing all hope
who even when all else
seems to fail
would sure as hell keep trying
again
and again
despite the obvious
tightening rope

if this is an old folk tale
passed down the grapevine
then it tells of emotional commitments
made in the heat of passion
and then so painfully
revoked

if this is the fuzzy splotchy line
of a stencil sprayed design
on so many a sidewalks
then combined
it paints the story
of a spray can
traveling light and clandestine
through the lonely dark night

and if this is the repeating
of familiar chants
through a megaphone
on a never ending march
snaking through downtown
then it might as well be insinuating
a very unique form of delusion

But then again
it would be wrong
to deny
that if you say something,
ANYTHING
enough times
it will eventually live on
to become some kind of truth
which is
by definition
your own.

take two identical politicians
and give them diffrent tone of voice
watch them getting down and dirty
on all the front pages
pretending that the podium was a soapbox
listen to them
waging war with their tongues
getting fun and flirty on all fours
with public relations advisors employed
by multinational corporations
and private equity firms
with stakes in major banks
toting big guns loaded with classified reports
deployed in think tanks
as if the ballot box
was somekind of a witness stand
your majesty
dear jurors
the defense calls B the CLOWN
to present a key piece of evidence
that would clear once and for all
the confusion
of who has and who hasnt got a say
about what is going down
in the deserts of iraq and afghanistan
or in the poor neighborhoods
right here in your OWN town
sir, will you please say
for the record
your name
and state your relationship to the defendent
CLOWN A
snapshot
give it a HOT caption
and maybe counterbalance that
with some irrelevant sporting event

a newspaperbox makes a painful grinding sound
when dragged into the middle of the street
and then a loud thump
when it finally hits the concrete
this is a sketchy block dressed in tattered black uniform
and it buzzes like a sworm
as it fills the intersection
with makeshift barricades
and then police advance
in much more bulky formation
with riot gear
and a mechanical tick
of a tactical machine
growling orders to disperse
as they push
back
back
and you can hear the music fade in and out
as they both do their little dance
and right there
in that space
that a tear gas canister
spreads through a crowd
in the streak of night
that a molotov cocktail lights
as it sails through polluted city air
you can smell
the sweet scent
of ROMANCE
one part gasoline
to one part love
and three parts despair
for maximum effect
use a tear soaked bandana for a whick
light
throw
run! quick!

here she comes!

one wrist tattooed ‘tactics’
‘diversity’ on the other
way back when
she’d be holding a grenade or a gun
but these days
she seemingly parades down the street just for fun
oh…and… for the photo op
of course
she is known to be
the most glorious but fleeting lover
managing somehow to leave every single person taking part
with the sweet illusion that they are THE ONE
the only one, to ever know her true radical nature
her mysterious sense of preversive adventure
she is the sexiest of all socially changing mamas
the polyest to the mother fuckin amorous
whatever you’ve got for a problem
she is most definitely the solution
ladies and gentlemen
please help me welcome
the one, and only
the REVOLUTION

remember the first time you met?
she was so hot it stung your eyes
you readjusted your mask
and as she passed you by
she whispered
simple everpresent truths
about everyday life
about how the machine thrives off of our doom
starting at 9
and never really ending at 5
with a misrable pacifying lunch break at noon
and there was absolutely nothing funny about the way she cracked a smile
“just the two of us honey”
she breathes in your ear
“together under a full moon
we’ll be dreaming up a future so awesome
and we’ll watch as it will
ever so slowly advance
and we’d still be standing there… cheering
when it comes crashing down into the present
and having ridden it like a wave into the past
where it had unapologetically sunk its glorious heavy roots
this love of ours will have forever bloomed
in the cafe conversation
and in the the history books
and from there into the class rooms
and from there…”
she looks you deep in the eye
and every word she says
echos in the most radical note
every sentence lasts forever
composing a perfect existential tune
a delicate little love song
that you wrote
together

oh yes!
youre so down!
youre so fuckin down!
whatever makes sense to her
whatever her idea of fun
its gonna be so damn intense
and youll be right there
with her

youre down!
you told her that
and here you are…
youre oh so ready
to just get it ON!
and she… is
running
late

in the meantime
you start making a list
of all the urgent tasks
and as it keeps growing
maybe you start to realize
that things are getting
slightly more intense
possibly daunting
still… you wait

eventually
you get frustrated
with this ‘not knowing’
what exactly IS going on
in this collective mind of hers…
sometimes it seems to undermine
your self proclaimed easy going stance
and your whole flowing with the currents dance
is getting noticeably tenser
than the version you rehersed
which makes silly, simple things
things that would otherwise be fine
like buying food, or leaving town
get so unnecessarily complex
for the mere expectation
of her, the revolution
to commence

so THIS
might be a perfect time for YOU
to throw in YOUR two cents
THE HELL!
if she’s not showing up…
than youre outraged!
you might as well be throwing in a whole DIME!
or better yet
you gonna get that special sock
in which you’ve been collecting all kinds of CHANGE!
THATS RIGHT!
until she decides to show
youre gonna throw a fuckin FIT!
fuck the REVOLUTION
you deserve some FUN
having worked so fuckin hard
youre gonna throw some newspaper boxes
and start a fire in a trashcan
in the middle of a downtown street
or maybe youre gonna go window shopping
with a BRICK for a credit card

in reflection on broken shards
of a siren approaching
your mind lets your imagination drift back to that time
when you collected some of your love letters in a zine
poured your heart and soul in a conscious stream on the page
worked a steady rhythm
in between the lines
some love
some rage
accompanied with grainy images
of battle grounds and street blockades
which you then liberated in multiples
from the corporate xerox machine
and you laid down your blanket at the fair
next to some steam punks
trading sensual travel logs
and radical debauchery stories
of revolutionary love affairs

and you remember
it amused you when they spoke
as if they had some claim to fame
by having feasted on her juices oh so many times
that they got that funk that only she produces
literally coming out of their pores
unable to capture that glory
with the hands they said they shook
with some intellectual who maybe wrote some boring ass book
about supposedly having been the one
who taught her everything she knows
they had to change their name to augment their lame ass lifestyles
YAWWWWWWWWN!

before this shit went down
you figured what it was…
she moved on
and they were sore

but now you get it
this is likely how she rolls
she stood you up
she made you look like a fool
she talked all those oldschool insurrectionary stories
just to watch you drool yourself into a corner
into some duel with the machine
and not only did she never mean a thing she said
but she had definitely used you like a tool
made you throw your time
into organizing this
and now when you are
deep in the shit
she disappeared
let you burn
just like a whick!
this is when you use your bandana to soak the tears
and stir that agonizing despair into the cocktail mix
you are
no doubt
a tiny fuse!
easily replaced!
what a pathetic situation
but it shouldnt even phase you
should have seen it coming from the start
should have preemptively taken your heart out
of this miserably predictable equation
if only you were that smart!
back then

at some point though…
you have to face up to the fact
that you may never hear from her again
and though you entertain the thought
that she would one day turn out
to be a paid informer
you do remember
that she neither mean nor cold
and she may have told you fictions
but that is not such a big deal
in the context of your former life
and all the lies you’ve been sold
you remember how she gave you the access codes
that got you out of that trance
of same-old-fifty-percent-chance-of-change mentality?
and how she taught you to overload the circuits
so as to cause a surge that would eventually explode
the whole god-damned-remote-controlled-APPLAUSE-sign
that hung over what you DO REALIZE you USED to call REALITY?
point being
there are big chunks of this whole thing
you have been constructing out of thin air in your own mind
and was waiting for a catalist
to give you the go ahead
and leave all that behind
and if this is not be the purist cause
you thought you thought you signed up for
you know very well
this is far, so far superior
to whatever it is
that you had going on before
and in all practicality
it was she who gave you a lense
through which to focus on your dreams
and then she took off your blindfold
and gave you bullcutters
to get through the fence
on the way
to what
to this day
still seems
like a better world
and now…
how dare YOU?
call HER?
the REVOLUTION?
a FRAUD?

THIS
is especially ODD
considering
that your heart STILL
goes flippidy flop
every time
even the
thought
pops

that she just
might
drop
by

even for a
short
stop

just to
say
hi

who knows…
maybe
this
time

you might
want to propose
that you make some lists of cons and pros
some flowcharts of possible scenarios

by then
who knows
you might both be ready
to settled down
in some far away neck of the woods
maybe start up a farm
get all kinds of vegetables growing
think she would come?

cause on second thought…
remember how she was kind of implying
that the way the wind is blowing
the city is where the shit’s gonna come down flying
right after it hits the inevitable fan…

SPLAT

there it goes…

that dust of confusion again
floating through the void
that the very force of alienation
cleared in your mind
and it will settle
as always
with time
repeating the same patterns
the same course
the same illusion
of cause and effect
the same
repetitive
romantic
discourse
of revolution
gotta love that