10 November 2009

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

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


hj45uyb4uy45yv3tv3wetfcv5j76 knn7 said...

Great! I love art and I think alot of people can find a sense of peace if they pick up a paint brush..or pencil etc. I hope to oneday encourage my children to be artistic and productive and peaceful.

Essay said...

Thanks for sharing, your blog is worth reading, nice post. Keep it up.

Obsidian Eagle said...

Reminds me of Marcos' Nuestra Palabra Es Nuestra Arma (Our Word is our Weapon). Solid stuff.

Brother, I have read your manifesto and invite you to read mine and (if you see fit) to join me in a mad crusade to overthrow the tyranny of poetic narcissism: