The Rhythm of Revolution. The Intersection of Pain and Love
An artesian well springing up from an infinite source.
Let it gush out so the water can take it’s course.
Giving drink to those who thirst.
It’s the creativity deep inside your heart
Of an infinite whole you are an infinite part
Let the dam burst
Let the power of who you are flow out
Unencumbered by ingrained fears and doubt
Giving drink to those who thirst.
I am sorry
I was mistaken
I thought it was you
Who made me feel alive
Who Liberated my soul
Who released and inspired my creativity
I am sorry
I was mistaken
It was not you
Although you helped
Like many others through the years
In your own unique way
But I was mistaken
When I thought it was you
It wasn’t you
It was me
And to say that is scary
But it also sets me free
Do you remember when I called out to you in song
And you sang back
Voices blending in perfect harmony
Beautiful yet haunting/ soft yet strong
We called forth something older than time
Brighter than the day/ darker than night
Our song created someone new
Something that can never die.
Connection/Addiction/I have this Affliction
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent night from falling.
That I failed to hold the sun in its place.
Would you believe me if I told you I tried?
My hands are seared from the burns.
My arms drained of their strength.
My will is shattered.
Night fell like a heavy blanket pulling the sun down.
And you and I with it.
But morning has returned.
And with it the light.
And all I want to know is, “did you survive the night”?
Days after a lone anti-immigrant gunman murdered over 20 people in El Paso the Immigration and Customs Agency (ICE) raided food production plants in Mississippi detaining around 680 people. Some tried to flee but were quickly detained. Others watched in shock and horror as family members, co-workers, and friends were taken away.
680 people. Folks with jobs and families simply living their lives without harm to anyone. And those lives were violently interrupted and forever changed. Not by ISIS or a lone gunman. But by the federal government of the United States of America.
There is a long tradition in this country that might makes right. We see it everyday in a nation that glorifies it’s military, let’s its’ cops kill with impunity, and breaks up poor working families simply because they didn’t have the time or money to come here the way the government wanted them to.
I ask you friend: where do you stand? Do you stand with a monolithic state that exists for it’s own perpetuation and enrichment? A state that exists to protect and promote the interests of capital often at the expense of ordinary working people?
Have you been angered and saddened by the violence and hatred of domestic terrorists who think they can murder their agenda into existence? I have been. But I see past this rotten fruit to the rotten root. The state uses violence every day to promote and protect its’ agenda.
As a human being and someone who works for a living I stand with my fellow workers wherever they may be and wherever they come from. We share this planet together and we must reclaim it before it is destroyed.
I know you’re hurting too
But it feels like you’ve left me in my pain
To die again and again
I know you’re hurting too
But how am I supposed to know
I’d rather be your foe
Then to be the nothing I’ve become.
Your ears are deaf and your mouth is dumb
So you can’t hear me scream
Dissolved like a long forgotten dream
I know you’re hurting too
But you won’t read my poetry
That love’s become the death of me
I know you’re hurting too
So I write the words that burn in me
Words your eyes will never see
I Don’t Know
I am nothing. Just as I’ve always been.
Not an illusion, only a delusion
Not even a dream or a distant memory
Maybe a rumor. But one that was never told let alone spread
Only if I was once alive could I then be dead.
For a moment I thought I was alive. For a short season I felt like I was something
That was the illusion. That was the dream
That was the memory that remains unseen
That was the rumor.
If sadness and pain are the deepest and most consistent part of me
I’d rather not be.
The American State is founded upon White Male Bourgeois Supremacy. The Declaration of Independence forever stigmatizes Natives as “merciless Indian Savages.” The Constitution of the United States dehumanizes African American slaves by designating each individual to be on 3/5 of a person (technically counted 3 out of every 5 slaves a human. You do the math).
Here you have the founding documents of the United States, the epistles of liberty, excluding mass portions of the population from freedom. In addition, women could not vote. Furthermore, in 1789, the first election of the new Congress, only white land owners had the ability to vote in most states.
After two more mass shootings this weekend we recoil in horror and wonder why there is such a strong violent movement in the United States among disaffected white men. Where does this feeling come from, entertained and internalized by so many, that the white man’s culture is being taken over by: fill in the blank (Blacks, hispanics, immigrants, Muslims, etc).
Maybe these folks understand the history and foundation of this country better than the liberals who want to pass half measures to deal with symptoms while protecting the foundation and source of violence in this country. I am not justifying these white supremacist murderers. Quite the opposite. I am ready to stand with all my force against these folks who are, in all reality, simply trying to stay true to the roots of the American state.
Behold, the state wins not matter how you slice it. A mass murderer kills and now we increase police presence all over our cities. An institution that coerces through force and violence. A mass murderer shoots up undocumented immigrants and behold those who dare go to a hospital are now at the mercy of being discovered and deported by ICE. Violence plays into the hands of the state because the state is the greatest source of violence.
America is a nation founded on violence. From the genocide of Natives, to the enslavement of African Slaves, to another 100 years of Jim Crow segregation, to an industrialized economy built on the packs of immigrants and low wage workers, to the multiple wars they have waged to open up new markets and gain Geo-Political advantage.
Guns are not the problem. A Nation built on violence is. A nation whose population stands unequivocally behind the institutions who use violence and force to protect property and privilege: whether domestic or abroad.
I will save the gun control debate for another day. I am no NRA supporter. But neither am I comfortable with the weapons of violence being concentrated in the hands of the institutions of state power.
We need to get to the root. To uproot the culture of violence and build a culture of peace and cooperation. The times are getting more desperate. And the earth is being destroyed by the rich who feed upon it’s resources: whether oil, coal, oxygen, water, or humans. It’s time to get to the root. To truly be RADICAL.
Self discovery and inner work are not priorities in our culture. Our culture is geared toward turning kids into adults. The goal is to fit children into the molds that will make them productive workers when they come of age. The emphasis is upon the outer with no thought at worst, and secondary consideration at best, of the inner condition of the human. And generally, the only time the inner becomes a priority is when it interferes with the outer routine.
I say this is bullshit. The purpose of my life cannot be boiled down to getting married, working a job, and bringing more children into this world who will reproduce the pattern. The purpose of my life is to discover who I am and share that person with others in a healthy way (and vice versa).
Behold the content and essence of our education. It is to memorize the facts that the powers that be deem necessary for us to know and assimilate in order to fit their pattern. We are taught what to think. We aren’t taught how to think. We aren’t allowed to indulge the curiosity that leads to discovery. Whether of ourselves or the world around us.
And if we ever get to a place where self discovery and inner work become a priority we find that we have miles and depths of current to swim against. We begin far behind the starting line. We find that we have lived our lives and made most of our decisions in conformity with a system that cares little for us as individuals. We come head to head with the dilemma of lost time.
I am no expert at solving this dilemma. And I am writing this mostly to draw attention to its’ reality. We must learn how to continue to seek self knowledge, discovery, and realization in a more limited environment than the one we might have found ourselves in had we started this work early in our lives. We must find creative way of subverting the dehumanizing system while existing within it. Cheers to this struggle!
Che Guevara said that a Revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love. Love is the foundation for true Revolutionary Change. Love is the source of Revolutionary Courage. Love is the fountainhead of Revolutionary strength. And love is extremely fragile
To love others we must love ourselves. This is a revolutionary act in a society that says we are never enough and never have enough. We are too poor, too unaccomplished in our career, too ugly, too undesirable.
And to love ourselves we must come to know ourselves. God damn, that is painful to do. To see how much validation I have sought from others. How much I’ve assessed my value based on how much others value me, or my gifts, or whatever.
I know more about myself now that I ever have before. But there is so much more ground to cover. I’ve learned that my life has been filled with pain. And I’ve spent most of my life running from pain.
I spent over a decade running from my pain by indulging in the Evangelical Hope of personal salvation from sin through faith in Jesus. And in the process I utterly lost myself. I gave myself up in exchange for some person I could never really be. A pattern borne from the evangelical subculture. Controlled. Under control. Dead to my self. Truly I was dead to my self.
I came out of Christianity with all the pain of my pre-Christian days. With all the baggage of fundamentalist mind-fuck added on top. I’ve always had a longing to love and be loved. But to love and be loved is the most scary and unsafe thing in the world.
We must make a choice in life. If we choose a life of love we will have pain. But if we seek to live a life without pain we may never truly experience the exquisite depth and purity of love. Maybe Christianity isn’t so wrong. In this sense: pain has value. Maybe pain itself doesn’t transform. But it can hit us to the depths of our being and become an impetus for us to seek that which will transform us.
Why does a life of love guarantee pain? Because love is free from coercion. Love gives it’s heart away knowing full well that heart may be broken. Love is grounded in Solidarity. What is good for you is good for me. And what is good for me is good you. And when love finds that reciprocation it is the highest glory and deepest depth. The stuff mystics pondered and spoke of.
If we seek to refrain from love or pain we are sentencing ourselves to less than a full existence. It’s a catch 22 though. Because every time we put ourselves out for love and are hurt- that pain can drive us to give up. Or it can drive to seek greater self discovery. And greater self love. Know yourself. Love yourself. And love others. On and on.
Poetry and Politics