art is our artillery

sisters and brothers - art is our artillery

i'm not backin up my utility - not sitting down collectively - your resistance is my futility - facing up to the humanity - this gut-drenched humility - we paint these walls they erected for our security

and art is our artillery - we are the stones at tanks - this rock-star pose at the barricades - we are black mask window smashers - with words - not guns - we bomb walls not gods - these bricks thrown at bricks - are linguistic tricks - our armour is personal - our products are political

like a one-dollar-a-day comical hedge-fund - a stand-alone reptile of climate capital - the fine sand particles get stuck in yr teeth - like a profit-driven fascist tool - as we shout azadi from the watchtowers - then this art is our artillery

when freedom is tantamount to oxygen - not just a word to breath out - but a depth of necessity for your mentality - to consume like blood - to pray at deaf gods for quality of life - of death - not air-conditioners - not cosmetic practitioners - not holistic nutritionists

up there they're spruiking spin spin spin - like cleaner shinier coal - less oilier oil spills - prettier more vibrant sunsets - claiming nicer weather in other hemispheres - and we cannot scream politely - art is our artillery

our mechanical images of boots and guns projected on your houses - our street theatre is more than automatic - coz we deny the democratic - where losers lose - and winners win without consensus there is no reality

and at woomera as the fences tore to the sacred desert - from the palisades she saw them paint freedom in blood - on fences on the cameras, the walls - then art is our artillery - our radical capillary

your coded hacking the concrete apartheid - and the tanks in the streets become cardboard burning - in gaza, in palestine these words are our our intifada - our blistered feet and dusty faces weapons

the fences ripped near checkpoints - the ideas thrown at walls - that wall - that wall twice the height of the last one - more than four times the length of the last one - and it came down - we tore it down - and walls come down - walls come down - the walls come tumbling down - and walls come down - walls come down - the walls come tumbling down

they tear down the segments with car-jacks - and fists and hammers and bricks - thrown at bricks thrown at bricks thrown at bricks…

so under the tear gas grenades - art is our artillery - in the back of this police van - the seared flesh, no sirens in the coolgardie sun - the paint flaked - and we march toward the stolen lands in mass strides - the colonial treatyless regions - to the open sea of refugees - the children in boats - the unfree freedom fighters - the flags torn and sewn - kids in the water never overthrown - only spin spin spin from the parliamentarians - the negativity versus the bravery - the token corporate slavery

sisters, brothers, fathers, mothers - we demand dignity - and art is our artillery

our tongues rush at the barricades - and in the desert street again she picks up a stone at the military - chanting no borders no nations - no borders no banks - no borders no politics - no borders no gods - no borders no masters - no borders no government - to tell me that - art is our artillery

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composed and delivered by allan boyd (antipoet) 10 nov 09 at scitech for: artilleryfestival.com