Category Archives: Politic

2/30 – Privilege

Privilege is…

…the choice of forefathers to have come here, to have not arrived in chains.

…the ability to not be inherently more likely to be shot.

…whole personhood from the founding of the country of your birth.

…a lottery of melanin,
of economic status,
of opportunity.

…being able to discuss the advantages that I have inherently, because I pass,
gone are the circumspection of circumcision,
gone are quarrelsome curls that announce my otherness,
gone my kippa and tzitzit that says that I’m Hebrew,
Kike, Christ-killer, Juden, Jew,
and Roma, Kalderashi, there is nowhere to call home,
pogroms should be all I know –
privilege is not having ever been driven from somewhere,
my ancestors on either side never knew such,
black men and women in America have never known such,
the First Peoples here have never known such,
the Mexican People have never known such,
this land is built on the bodies of “others” brought here,
granted no rights and worked to their deaths,
privilege is being able to shrug this inhumane history off ourselves.

…perpetual because we’ve let it.

…running rampant because we believe there are more of them,
or that they are more powerful,
but we are what we have always been,
we are WHO we have always been,
the oppressed,
the irreverent,
the dreamers,
the believers,
we are righteous in our indignation,
we are at the end of our rope,
we are ready for revolution,
we cannot have more of the same,
privilege is the right of the strong and the lame.

…available to us all. It is ours for the taking.

…being at the precipice of this coming change.

1/30 – April’s Fool

It didn’t take much,
just to open mouth again,
to let fly assumptions to certainty,
because wise men speak when they have something to say,
fools speak because they have to say something.

Bluster bubbled over, boisterous bravado that barters livelihoods on a lark,
throws caution to the wind and arms enemies and allies alike,
some with words, some with weapons,
waging warfare for a fortune,
because our greatest export has always been

WAR.

Leaves pieces of our soldiers on foreign lands,
limbs and lives and innocence lost buried abroad,

good for making fertilizer of our fellow brethren,
and theirs, all others (forgetting the inextricable fact, there are no “others”),

we will all be soil, someday, but some lead us astray,
bullets and blades for the sake of the wealthy,
who can take all these lives in stride because they believe “it doesn’t affect me,”

but it does, each of us has the same rust in our veins,
exploded stars and their dust, and we all breathe the same,
they have sold us their poisons, and we’ve inherited polluted earth,
because politicians and corporations can tell you precisely what all life’s worth.

Instead of wallowing in dearth,

we should overthrow oligarchs and each extend the wreath
and the laurel, stick to the moral,

that what is hateful to you should be saved from your quarrels,
treat everyone like you’d like to be treated,
the golden rule of every theological treatise,

before we completely deplete the seat of our small sovereignty,

this fair blue marble floating in the void.

Another Howl

I saw the greatest minds of my generation turn on X-Box Live and therein turn off,
I saw text messages writ in classrooms behind professors’ backs and Facebook updates half-crafted in libraries, consisting of nothing but trivialities and not taking advantage of resources.

This poem will be under three-minutes because if it were uploaded to YouTube it would get less hits than the “Sitting On The Toilet” video,
And not because you don’t have the attention span to listen to it,
But because I don’t have the attention span to write like Ginsberg, and the irony that this was written on a smartphone does not escape me.

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