Revolution and Repression

revolution

the day of rage

arrives
the spin
the turn
radical solutions
goes to the root
to extract

the intractable
a painful molar
requires

Herculean tugs

steel pliers
grip
wrap
stubborn eye teeth
bleeding through
bleating gums
baying songs of remorse
in stirring courage
of idealistic hope
demanding the impossible
expecting the miraculous

construction
edifice of aspirations
hope fashions bricks
to build opulent palaces
let all eyes feast
upon the bounty of beauty
the bread and flowers
our head swims
in the fragrance of jasmine
wrapped in the velvet dreams
of possibility

purge the soul
and smash the skulls
of heinous memory
the viscous teeth
of state repression
blood dripping fangs
intractable states of being

to the people of the world
witness the heroic acts of love
shouldering old heroes
resurrecting memorials
to dead Che's
icons of memory
hidden in heavens cloud
covering mountainous peaks
of tragic expectations
inane possibility
and the ultimate
ironic betrayal
a common fate
romantic warriors
risk to suffer

revolution
it ain't no tea party
Mao knows
power grows
from a smoking gun barrel
but delicate flowers
breaking through
hard crusts
of repression
are the exegesis
of the
miraculous

the wages of agitation

reaction rages

speaks back

terrible answers
rifles cracks
crushed skulls
flowing wounds
burst hearts
pierced torsos
with slim stilettos
reactionary bayonets
the cold steel
the ambivalence of power
conceding nothing
giving less
jealously guarding
the comfort of privilege
the pride of tyranny

a despots fortitude
hidden behind moats

fantastic propaganda
boasting about
crumbling strongholds
with mythic lies
losing the stranglehold
on dialectical imagination
of freedom and liberty

"order and stability"
is a despots promise
exhorts his people
to return
to a condition
of debilitation
to let his torturers
extract the truth
from the seditious rebels
who can't perceive
the excellence
of his just rule.

"Do you want
another Six Days
of humiliation?
Do you wish

to be abandoned
by the fierce eagle
America has nested
perched along
our Blue Nile
and the dead
emptiness
of our desert Sinia?"
The bloody talons
grip a region
refusing to ransom
the bloody carcass
of the Arab World
it gorges
upon in a
profane feast
of democratic civility.

Mubarak smiles
as he peers out
the open window
of his besieged
palace.
The stain of
red teeth glow
in the dying
light of

his imperial rule.

His minions
the deadly Jinn
breathe fire
of Molotov elixirs
onto the
body politic
setting it aflame
on the pyre
of ruthless
suppression.

He promises
to rebuild

the prisons

with the labor

of prisoners.

Suleiman
is busy

mixing mortar

with the
blood and bones

of the states enemies.

You Tube Music Video:

Gil Scott Heron:

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Oakland

2/2/11

jbm

(WIP)

Blow Back

The State Department
is busy Tweeting.

"get out, get out
catch a plane outta town
our friendly despot is tippin
we ain't clownin round"

The empire is
withering away
urgent tweets
implore
US Nationals
to vacate
this little corner
of a darkening continent

revolution is rousting
the scoundrels
chasing Uncle Sam's
children out of town

Egyptians believe
America to be
complicit in their oppression
they don't understand
why Uncle Sam supplies guns,
bullets, tear gas and tanks
in the higher service
to democracy

The Egyptians
don't get it
its our democracy
their oppression
the fruit of liberty for us
the bread of tyrants for you

don't they know
that freedom rings
around their necks
like a hangman's noose?

a strange fruit indeed
is grown on this
tree of liberty
watering it
with the blood
of lowly masses
satiates this
little shop of horrors
for only so long
now it thirsts
to gulp from a
tyrants vein

America is the nation
where liberty lives.
She bears the torch
of democracy.
Her defining icon,
a heap of French copper
hoisting a broken light
in New York Bay.
True patriots
on Fox News
hate the Frenchman
who built it;
but deeply believe
in the myth it tells.

"Give us your poor
tired hungry masses
and if they can
scale the fence
to keep them out
you're still
not welcomed
to stay."

Foxy Patriots
point to tyrants
like Mubarak,

"at least we don't
have to suffer him."

The dim whits
of liberty
don't realize,
like Morley's Ghost
the chains
Mubarak forged
in this life
can be traced back
to a steel mill
in Pittsburgh.
It may be hard
to come away
from this one
unscathed.

Freedom rings
around our neck
it chokes like a
hangman's noose
the slipknot tightens
our bulging veins
engorge and burst
with the clotted blood
pooling on the floor
of the torturers den.

Proverbs
of
Blow-back

expediency
short term thinking
immediate gratification
sacrifices sustainability
threatens the future

privilege
liberally
casts bread
upon waters
doled out
demanding return

no doubt
the price of greatness
is the cost of interest

the right of the stronger
is always secured
with the blood of innocence

why didn't no one warn us?
why didn't anyone see this coming?
how do these surprises continue to happen?
why does it always storm when our umbrellas are down?

American nobility
walks among the
lesser nations
with disdain
bereft of enterprise
they have nothing
enamored with capital
Yanks are laden
with a poverty of spirit

paid in food and guns
the expense is hedged
with depreciating shekels

if you back a despot
bad things are bound
to rebound on you.

if you spit into a hurricane
the gob will flop back onto your face.

If you piss into the wind
the urine will run down your leg.

If you cover a lie with darkness
light will eventually expose one a liar.

freedom rings
around our necks
burning like a
hangman's noose
the broken bell
of liberty clangs
freedom fighters
struggle to loose

blow-back is a bitch
this bitch is bitching
we truck with tyrants
the cart gets unhitched

realpolitik
the rules of the game
the holy grail of freedom
lies defiled and profaned

the chess pieces are scattered
lie tipped on a busted board
the knights have all been captured
the King is rightly dethroned

now a very under secretary
cowers behind a messy desk
the besieged embassy in Cairo
fulfilling final duties to his best

The crack
of shots
salute
flinging stones
Molotov toasts
the junior Attache
furtively tweets
its time to leave
still believing
the dumb
thumbed text
of fevered
messages
proof positive
of the
righteous
power
of free
market
capitalism
omg
he he he
lol
ufb

"we have to leave
de plane Tatoo shouts
de plane de plane
don't miss de plane"

Yanks have to leave.
Americans disembark
its bon voyage
on sad sloops

lofting past
the old glories

of Luxor.

I have a photo
of me atop
a farting camel,
Baby Tut.
His owner
Muhammad
was funny.
He said he liked
how Baby Tut
spoke to him.
He said the farting words
were the sweet perfume
of another day of meals
for his family.
Muhammad said
he and Baby Tut
now ruled
The Valley of Kings.

Yanks were told to leave immediately.
Flights out of Egypt unlikely after Thursday.

You Tube Music Video:
Muddy Waters, Blow Wind Blow

Oakland
2/3/11
jbm
(WIP)
***

The Dancing Jinn of Cario

And on the day when
He shall gather them all together:
O assembly of jinn!
you took away a great part of mankind.
And their friends from among the men shall say:
Our Lord! some of us profited by others
and we have reached our appointed term
which Thou didst appoint for us.
He shall say:
The fire is your abode,
to abide in it, except as Allah is pleased;
surely your Lord is Wise, Knowing.

Quran
The Cattle
6:128

The desert Jinn of Cairo
flit and dance
upon the burning waters
of the Nile.

The midnight streets gasp
with the turgid fragrance
of tear gas and jasmine

The stink of the
ungrateful dead
riles the nostrils
of indifferent gods

laughing
at the litter of corpses
strewn along
torpid boulevards
in this city of lament

Unbounded crowds dash
amongst fleeting shadows
the agitated ghosts
of undead generations
refusing to stay buried
blink to life
in epileptic frenzy

The timeless city
civilizations
fertile floodplain
authored

western cultures
opening chapters
housed mythic libraries
erected mysterious
stone tributes
esteemed
monarchical opulence
now yields
frenetic outbursts
of Arab fury
writing
an epilogue
to a despots rule
the blessed end
to an imperial age

Rampant corruption
asphyxiating bureaucracy
malicious suppression
syphilitic exploitation
rabid oppression
enforced ignorance
human defilement
are the bitter
sediments
of degradation
layered in crushing piles
upon the lowly masses
on this delta of sorrows
breeding revolution
to unravel a tyrants
specious claim
to perpetual rule

The city streets
flood with
militant insistence.
Emboldened
peoples will
to rise up
beating hearts
pounding
a sonic drum
resonating
through
this age
foretelling
a turn
in history's

creaking wheel.

Allah Allah
Allah Akbar!
bleats
from parsed lips
from underground
brotherhoods
the rising words
sharper then
Saladin's Sword

The Holy Quran
flows like boiling blood
in agitated hearts
dissidents pound
bloodied fists
against intractable walls
of monolithic power

Visions of liberation
a democratic paradise
an infinite harem
of compliant virgins
swim in the heads
of dissidents in motion
as baying throats
exhort comrades
shouting brave
seditious slogans

to engage

bullets
batons
water cannons
and unsure outcomes.

I heard a young woman say
"I have faith in my people
and faith in my country."
Never a more foolhardy sentiment been expressed,
nor braver words have I ever heard.

As the laughing Jinn of Cairo
flit and dance
atop the burning waters
of the Nile.

A city
self immolating
atop a pyre
of blood stained stones
dry constricting fables
passed down along
marching epochs
hieroglyphic puzzles
recorded on
crumbling papyrus
wrapped in
holy legends
of mystical pharaohs
receiving an exiled
Father Ibrahim
fresh from
the destruction
of Sodom
cedes to the
Lord of Fear
spawns a lie
and gives
Sister Sarai
over to the
unholy whims
of profane
magistrates

Abe's skin saved
soul preserved
the generations
multiply
more numerous
then the countable stars

in a known universe
not vast enough
to find room for
Hagar's cursed progeny
-call him Ishmael-
exiled to
Desert of Paran
siring many
lesser Semites
becoming
a strong archer
in the vast legions
in timeless
service to
an uninterrupted line
of deranged Pharaohs

This scorned land
grew the
grievous reeds
swaddling
Baby Mussa
who turned
the river of
his arrival
into a flood
of gushing blood
who split the waters
to consume
the raging armies
of marauding charioteers
bent on the annihilation
of their chosen
Semitic half brothers

The shame
agitates
the simmering
rage of ambivalence
gladly sacrificing
these historic
treasures
on angry
bonfires
tipping
the glories
of Alexandria
into the sea
once again

Up stairways
down dark alleys
the Jinn of Cairo

dance
haunting ruins
hurling stones
burning buildings
looting stores

smashing artifacts
cursing the bitter bread
of tyrants
chasing
the black echos
of deadly gunfire

Nasser's
dead soldiers
gather in corporeal legions

a proud nations
undead generation
mythic heroes

dashed in Six Days

rise from

shallow graves

of Sinai

shame is loosed

to stalk targets

heated enemies
setting aflame
the burning waters of
a very blue

unsettled Nile

The unholy platoons

Sadat's assassins

hurl grenades
like thunderbolts
from jealous Zeus

implores Mars
to join the fray

rousting the specter
of dead kings
and a terrorized
President

living in the black days

of his final nights

Tell Ole Pharaoh
to go back to the hell
from whence he came

as the dancing Jinn of Cairo
dance on the burning waters
of the Nile.



You Tube Music Video:

Randy Weston: Blue Moses
(WIP)
1/31/11

Police Day

Do you build on every height a monument? Vain is it that you do:
And you make strong fortresses that perhaps you may
And when you lay hands (on men) you lay hands (like) tyrants;

Qu'ran
The Poets
26: 128-130

In the land of
Pharaohs
we are
compelled
to celebrate
a national
holiday to
repression

we refuse to
mark the day
our chains
were forged

we refuse
to partake
in the worship
of penitentiaries

your hand cuffs
are not our
prayer beads

your prisons
are not our
cathedrals

graven images
of a dictator
are not holy
icons

the glorification
of storming fascists

the swoop
of truncheons

the kick of jack boots
firming on our necks
pressing our face
into the sand
covering our eyes
with the dust of lies
coercing us
to adopt
a litany
of shallow boasts
the lying psalms
of repetitive
propaganda
you alone
swear as truth
enforcing fealty
with the blows
of terror

we reject

we have called
for a mash up
meet up
on Facebook

we have
poked
young
comrades
into action

we will
flood the
streets
dancing
in witness
to our
revelation
of freedom

we declare
ourselves
exiles
from your
prisons

the youth
of Egypt yearns
to show our faces
to the faceless fascists
that dominate and bludgeon us

we reject your endless
state of emergency
it has grown old

the ceaseless flux
of perpetual dominance
must be laid to rest

the imposition of
your ridged stasis
stunts our growth

we can no longer suffer
your authoritarian
paternalism

your urgent repression
no longer stills us

your vigilantism
no longer intimidates

your corruption
no longer cowers us

your laws protecting your privilege
we no longer recognize

we rip to pieces the constitution
that guarantees
our serfdom

we burn the books
that immortalize your fictions

your force designed
to immobilize
now stirs us to action

go back to your gulags
in urgency

call an end
to your emergency rule

clasp the handcuffs
of razor blades
around your own wrists

know that the time is now
the trilling grows

we unhide our faces
to the extremists
that dominate us

we offer our cheeks
to the sadists
who live
to bash
away the
innocence
of children
taking perverse
pleasure in
leaving an
indelible
slash
to
mark
lessons
of citizenship

we decline
your gambit
torpid head fakes
of a despots
shell game

secret police
make plans
in the morning
by afternoon
make excuses
covering tracks
cowering
in ignorance

Mubarak
has entombed
the nation with
non-stop lies
incessantly
droned from his
national broadcast
company

the youth of Egypt
marches to the funeral
of this dictatorship

we carry with us
holy embalming
spices to
fill the vapid
cavity of its
soulless
corpse

the youth
have commenced
a Hajj

clothed in
denim Ihrams
our Umrah
leads to the
presidential
palace

as we circle
we throw stones
at the devils den
unraveling the
bandages
covering
the wounds
you have
inflicted
on the body
of our nation.

We are
determined
to circle
the palace,
wrapping
the threads
of blood
stained
gauze
around
Mubarak
and his
fascist
police
until the threads
completely
bound them.

We promise
not to rest
until they are
laid to rest,
entombed
with fellow
mummies,
lying in state
under the
burning sands
of the Sahara.

You Tube Music Video:
Police, Rehumanize Yourself

2/13/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)