Un-Skinned

WATCH THE VIDEOS & READ THE POEM +/-

Tricky - Evolution Revolution Love (4:07)

UN-SKINNED
We are all walking these streets
Under our own abysmal verdict.

Frequently we hear that we’re faced
by avoidable contamination. We’ve heard it before,
that we must breed our skin apart from those others
until our masks are solid and chaste,
irremovable, useless. Force the skin’s hue down,
imprison our colors on the nomadic streets.

We need be single-minded to form our face
into the perfect color of a perverted truth;
this evolution is ugliest now,
storming its infection across the world.

We’re walking the streets, the roads,
the twisting spheres bending away; humanity
begging we refuse this council, this deception. One
stride on this earth, one long, delightful use of man;
animal, dying now, ready to live. Our fuel’s the blood
Under our skin, our reckless mind, the contagion.

Understand this; our progression has long commenced.
We cannot forgo its breathing revolution.
We cannot, from its rise, ourselves remove.
O! It will thrash our sticks and stones,
and turn its heaven away from our brutality,
away from our bigotry, our war, our contempt of evolution,
until we dissolve our masks and flee our unbending dreams!

O we need make our pulse in the unknown.
We are the pollen that dropped from the same flower,
eyeless and frightened.
Our worthless dread,
motionless souls,
splintered hearts,
cagey minds,
thrashed hopes,
derelict empathy,
throttled voices,
parading our death
over scorched noises.

Maybe we’re not walking the streets and roads...
maybe we’re being carried by the wind?

© 2008 mrp/tpm


Tricky - Make a Change (6:01)

Rolling along "J"...Jade Gate - Jakester Express - Jesus Was Not a Republican - Jonestown - Joshing Politics - Journeys with Jood - June Revolution - Just Ain't Right

LABELS - MIND WHERE YOU TREAD!

(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)

"Labels That Safeguard America" via Case at Open Letters to George W. Bush

Dear George,

The beauty of America’s one-party system is its efficiency at eliminating inconvenient candidates who become a little too populist for comfort. America is a white, male oligarchy, first, last and always. No candidate who dreams of empowering the people has a snowball’s chance in Hell of occupying the Oval Office until the oligarchy has leeched any and all populist impulses from said candidate.

Arbitrary labels are the desiccants that turn a candidate’s populist dreams into dried pods in an empty shell. The best labels are those that divide and weaken.

It is a fact that both HillBill and bamaobama are getting a little too populist for comfort. It is tempting to dismiss their rhetoric as so much posturing to garner votes. The problem is that when a candidate raises the mob’s expectations, the mob puts pressure on said candidate to deliver once he or she is in office.

So the oligarchy has rolled out the two labels that stand the best chance of neutralizing them both: race (with its implication of black militancy) and gender (with its implication of bra-burning feminists). These labels are precious jewels guaranteed to divert America’s attention from a crumbling economy, the upward flow of capital and foreign enterprises that are trashing America both at home and overseas.

The most powerful labels are those grounded in illusion. The use of “race” overlooks the fact that race is a false category that has no basis in reality. To imply great differences between individuals on the basis of insignificant morphological differences is pure fantasy, which is why it works so well. (Read the rest of the letter...)

THE WAY I SEE IT (Obama and race)

Visit The coffeehouse Studio for the inspiration...coffee's not bad, either.


The way I see it...

Bring on the dialogue about race. Talk to Obama about race.

Let him speak fluently and clearly about race in America. Let the fascists consider for a moment the truth of his and his pastors words. Let them mingle together in this lexicon bowl of races. Let them sink into the skulls of those doubting that the black man is still slave to the white man's establishment!

Let the rhetoric, the debate flow out into the halls of Congress, into the pubs of Louisiana, under the train tracks of Missouri and Arkansas, along the plush golf courses, clatter over the clink of wall street fat cats, jangle around the barstools of mid-west saloons and jingle near the pockets of the oil barons, and land at the feet of the CEO pushing the pedal down in his Hummer.

Let it come.
Let it be fleshed out,
Brown, red, black, and white...
Skins laid bare over the cold granite of truth.