Haiku from Zuccotti  Park

Moloch’s motor got stuck

on the roof of Casino Wall Street

look up! moon, a ghost chip in the sky…

 

10/ 10/11 “Columbus” Day/Liberty Plaza          Anne Waldman

 

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Belly of the Beast: Forward & Lucid Dream Das Capital

    A being which does not have its nature outside itself is not a natural being….  Karl Marx

 

you would say it you would paint it you would say it if you could

 

little rewards for the little people

the curb carbon people of the world….

primary people of the carbon litter world

 

they live the night

they live the dawn

 

little brave

M’

people of all our worlds & we them & they us

 

perpetually awake & facing forward.  elegant.  grotesque?

in all the trepidations of people people hear this now (oh people of the world)

 

beautiful people of the world

dressed up worlds & wounds & weeds see the colors now

 

task them trouble them people people hear this now,

trouble this now, oh people of the world trouble trouble

& children in the process  coming to this edge & rhythmic sadness

 

curb carbon mantra

curb curb carbon carbon mantra

 

mandate for the 99% people of the world.

who rise in you strong and facing forward

 

exit the cars oh people of the world.

 

cars of slick reticulated desire and abandon.

 

& shame shame shame shame to the people in the big house…

 

perigrination, migration, dust bowl & more masters

 

here go where did it go?

where go here did it go…

 

face forward, & again, masters again

 

tribe, a colony, an apex, a zero sum.

 

family, an exodus, a shift.

 

masks for the carnival and suit up here

 

face forward, & again, masters again

 

I hide in a spectacle of the state

 

an intergenerational institutional hidden apocalypse

 

a state of exception and torture

 

a chimerical party of hungry ghosts & danger zones

where you could be held & hid (rise up rise up oh people of the world)

 

how human & skewed are all rewards…

 

a small moon reticulated,  and that is your word:

“a fine reticulation”

 

receding,

 

chimney smoke you better see you better speak you better speak you

all  mean  all  mean  all  better rise

 

you would paint  them

you

would s          ee you wo

 

uld

rise         arise.

 

 

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Prisons of Egypt

                            a song for the occupiers at Liberty Plaza

(with back strains of “Let My People Go”)

 

The prisons of Egypt go back far

To Joseph in the house of Potiphar

Check the papyrus check the astrology

Down the stair of time in a theocratic dynasty

 

Death is before me today like the odor of myrrh

Like sitting under a sail on a windy day

Death is before me today like a hangman’s noose

In the torture chambers of Egypt you rarely get loose

 

Al Qaeda bred in the prisons of Egypt

Nurturing hatred in the prisons of Egypt

CIA operatives in the prisons of Egypt

Complicit waterboarding body and soul in the prisons of Egypt

 

We’re connected we’re wired in this global economy

We’re victimized and thwarted in the bigger reality

We’re going to keep pushing until the frequency changes

Meditating and ranting and singing and raging

 

Shackled in a pyramid waiting for the death barge

Shacked in a pyramid waiting for the death charge

Bound and gagged and blindfolded for twelve long days

As outside your prison the revolutions rage

 

Shackled and outraged in Capitalism’s jail

Gagged and bound by the Federal Exchange alpha male

What will it take (revolution?) to get the mind stable

What will it take get food on every table

 

We saw it: into the streets into the streets of Tahrir Square

Into the streets where the people won’t be scared

Into the streets into the streets of old Cairo

Down with the tyrant down with the cop-pharaoh

 

Secret police riding camels wielding clubs and guns

Communication going dark but people kept coming

Prisons of Egypt didn’t keep them down

Prisons of Egypt turned us all around

 

This verse is like luminous beads on a string

Verse like the shifting sands with a scorpion’s sting

Verses are the cries of people in the bowels of corruption

Verses ululate souls of those crying out in insurrection

 

Everywhere the call and everywhere the response

The examples of our companeros and companeras leave us no choice

Here on U.S.A. continent soil

We’re in it together in rhizomic interconnected coil

 

Rebellion, rebellion, a line is drawn

No more privilege no more degrading scorn

Of the people who struggle and inhabit this world

This is the season to reverse the bankers’ pact-with-devil course….

 

Rise up Cairo rise up Port Said

Rise up Alexandria rise up your need

Rise up El Karga rise up your voice

Prisons of Egypt gave you no choice

 

Rise up U. S. of A., rise up your voice

Capital’s prisons everywhere leave us no choice

It’s the universal paradigm it’s the only game in town

Support the occupiers of Wall Street, don’t let them down

 

Out of darkness out of tyranny

Prisoners everywhere could be set free

We won’t be sleeping on the shifting desert sands

Til freedom of all denizens come to all lands….

 

We’ll occupy Zuccotti Plaza beamed around the world

Sleep on the concrete, wake up on consecrated soil

Where bones of slaves and workers and victims of war

Will haunt the USA 1% spooked psyche right down to the core….

 

In memory: Allen Ginsberg

 

 

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Corset: Emma Goldman 

                    in memory, Kathy Acker

 

what is it to be corset maker binding the bone and cotton in a daily sweat of labor and purpose what is it to know the sweat of all you my sister workers of daily living surviving an economic purse-string purpose what is it to be declared the most dangerous of purpose when J. Edgar Hoover has your number and what is it here now in St Petersburg hungry and anxious and soul-stirring for surviving my purpose what is the cause of insomniac passion my further disillusionment in your systems in your many systems in all the systems that bind the bone in this labor to you who will always profit off the labor of Emma’s hands sewing binding aching toiling bone and cotton in the class struggle a dangerous purpose you want to call it that why you can call it that and it’s so much more but do call it that and you will I’m sure call it that and most dangerous of violence and terror too and you want to call it that? Why you can call it that and it’s so much more but do call it that and you will I’m sure call it that  and most dangerous of violence and terror too and what of a Spanish Civil War I’ll call wake up all minions!  I’ll call: arise! and would cast in a daily sweat of labor a struggle a sweet edge that way for it’s an energy of daily sweat and toil  to be free of the fascisms of how and when and why and why o never free of J. Edgar Hoover but  my imagination ever free of the imagination of J. Edgar Hoover who will surely most certainly have your number in his fractious labor and psychopathic toil even now when he the ghost of fractious J. Edgar Hoover is stalking haunting the work places the meeting places the “commune” of all my sweat and  purpose…what is it to  be a large woman be-speckled and intent in my libertarian socialist moment  you want to call it that? Why you can call it that and it’s so much more but do call it that and you will I’m sure call it that and most dangerous of violence and terror to incite a riot what is it to be thus called trouble and to be forever “unpopular with authorities” to be watched and goaded and arrested and in lock-down what kind of terror moment is this and will it survive and assassinate a president this kind of moment will it will it survive McKinley will it survive psychopathic fractious J. Edgar Hoover and will the ghosts of Haymarket stalk the Union Hall still in that old purpose and will that will now sisters break the corset that binds the moment?