012216 multimediated misery

012216
—
we are people
trapped inside stolen hearts and minds
squabbling over stolen lands on borrowed time
occupy hallowed ground, thieves
take directly from the Source, and
She always comes back around to collect, eventually
by hook, by crook and by force

we are people
baring broken hearts and souls
like smiling rows of snarling teeth
courage didn’t abandon us to grief
we abandoned her first, following
the disintegration of solidarity
expect the worst, watch it unfold

we are people
on parade with emotional implants
borrowed thoughts, tired rants
replacing the inspired action of praxis
like a retired chant relaxes
the realm of the spiritual
material collapses, leaving us alone

we are people without home
without food, without water
without air, without space
without silence, without peace
without shelter, without place
succumbing to the seduction of
trauma-induced, technology-produced
multimediated misery

a well-engineered excess of misguided “success”
transmutes our compliant screams, it seems
while we drown violently, in effect
void of life without ever dying
we are people, anymore…
…aren’t we?
—
A Poem for Ammon Bundy

060615 temporary substitutes

060615
—
(life implies)
work to destroy
our casual, ubiquitous relationship
to addictive colonial commodities
–exorphic tools of control such as
sugar, grains, chocolate, coffee
the so-called “English breakfast” tea
and the rest of the global spice trade–
to watch every privileged life fade from view…

…privilege:
subtractive zero-sum civilized pyramid schemes
describing domesticated lives less-screwed
fools survive floating by
on top the drowning poverty crew

accept no temporary substitutes
like machines that run obediently on juice
and when the juice runs low
run back to the chattel
just a stone’s throw away
prisoners of an imprisoned
privileged few work the fields
night and day, nothing new
now hidden
behind the global technological veil

prepare yourself
when the liberal fair-trade fantasies fail
when slaveries stutter and lapse
imperial economies collapse
beneath the revolting tide of collective feral will

gladly say goodbye
because bodies detox and tastebuds adjust
while we discover exactly what
the land beneath our feet offers us

want liberation
in your body, soul, heart and mind

build genetic allegiance and trust
no willing addict of denial
expressing narcissistic preference
for the next fix, mindless
empty undead hunger-driven lust.

041810 fever dreams

041810
—
when you and i first met we were all smiles
we danced in the sun and walked for long miles
beneath the moonlit night sky
we thought no such thing of goodbye
like fools on trial where the rules don’t apply

friends turned foes whispered rumors about us
love turned suspicion, doubt grew into mistrust
cold anxiety and fear gave us wrong advice
hearts filled with lust, carve and serve by the slice
our short loneliness grew long as we paid the price

last sunday i woke from my sleep without hope
fever dreams, nightmares sent me spiraling
i crashed and i broke from the shock all alone
harsh air made me choke as i fled from your throne
through landscapes laden with guilty white bones
my feet sent me wandering, thinking of home

i was waiting for you on the tracks and you came,
smokestack of trouble chained to your back
it drowned out the sunshine,
we said goodbye to the day
and now we’re running away

lives left behind on the make
too little give, too much take
and in our wake how they’ve grown
these same old seeds that we’ve sewn

Why the Zombie Apocalypse?

This update posted to the About page.

The zombie apocalypse to me represents the near-complete alienation we experience as a result of succumbing to — and even fending off — colonizing forces that threaten and destroy life and love.  As such, it serves as a potentially-fantastic analogy and tool to explore the predicaments and challenges that alienating and colonizing societies pose toward us, and build a solid foundation for decolonization work.

Though no real clear distinction exists, the poetry typically serves to establish and explore a cosmology of the zombie apocalypse (especially the haiku), whereas the stories begin to ground those explorations.

Wall Street feels Urban Outfitter’s Oppressive Pain

http://blogs.wsj.com/runway/2011/10/21/navajo-no-more-urban-outfitters-receives-cease-and-desist/

Urban Outfitters’ headaches increased today, with a change.org campaign demanding they remove their “Navajo” collection from stores in Europe and other international locations.

A lot of words and phrases come to mind (see this blog’s tags).  Poooooor Urban Outfitters.   Excuse me if I fail to shed a single tear for them.

My response to this framing:  [Dear Christina Binkley of the Wall Street Journal] your lead sentence is backwards. it was the Navajo Nation — and other natives — whose headaches increased because of Urban Outfitter’s incredibly disrespectful, insulting and poor taste.

Canaries in the Cultural Mine: Suicide and Justice

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” -Krishnamurti

In my experience, few people doubt that when someone commits suicide, it means something was terribly wrong. However, too often we draw the conclusion that something was wrong with the person committing suicide. We often assume in the absence of information that the cause of the suicide was purely internal (e.g., psychological) rather than external (e.g., environmental; social or cultural). We also tend to label people who commit suicide as “selfish.” This assumption is often completely wrong.

In his essay, “Of collateral damage and roosting chickens…” Tim Wise uses the “Canary in the mine” analogy to describe how racism amongst the white working class actually does considerable damage to the welfare of white workers: