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X P L O I T - N A T I O N
A poem for 100 Thousand Poets for Change, Paris, in 2017.
The theme is EXPLOITATION. The poem is by Lindsay A Gordon.
X P L O I T - N A T I O N
I don’t know, Did you ever think? While you shook your fist, At that mega-corporation?
What part do you play, In the web of lies? Do you make the food That feeds the system?
Do you deliver deceit With the morning paper? Do you clean the street To be re-trodden on?
YOU SAY But I am like the butterfly, The ant, la mouche, I have to live and After all What I Do Is in- sig-NIF - - - I-can’t? Right?
You vote the way of liberty, You protest with all the songs, You complain loudly what is being done. You are not the only one.
OR you sit there and do your job, You follow the rules, Love your family, friends, You wanting safety, security, For all! Instead of for none.
OR U mad as hell! U ain’t gunna take it no more! Tear it all down. Replace it with d’pickup truck.
ORE you the exploiter in question, Rich and proud, The wolf, the taker, No looking back. No one to fight you While one group Fights another and Wondering “what’s going on?"
Sometimes by luck or gift of god(s), We get heroes with the answer! The ones who cut through the noise . . . But we turn around and they Are selling T-shirts & Tickets. Even the charities are corporation.
Through the sea of our discontent Stands a government for the people That runs a system by the people Regulating companies run by Joe and Jill Not so different from you and me.
It’s not robots in charge Not yet It should all work out? What they want We want.
But what we want: The cheese. And what we get: The chalk.
Are you getting chalk or cheese right now? Like this “poem” More like a polemic A treatise at best. It doesn’t even rhyme!
HUE MAN BEING How can two worlds be so far apart? Because your magnificent HUE MAN Is just animal - predictable predatory With its higher functions Down low in the 7 sins.
A colo/u/r for each sin, like scabs, In this HUE MAN RED violence that rules all GREEN greed that drives BLACK ruthless makes all possible GREY apathy to let it pass SPARKLES self obsession fame fashion celebrity BROWN “other" dirty untrusted feared reviled and YELLOW cowardice ignorance malice pain. Together the herd mixes these colo/u/rs to make A rich tone that interior designers call,
“S H I T”.
As a herd, easily controlled, And on its own, under-powered, Distracted, sold out, dead, Silenced, damaged, RED.
So scream. Shout. Write your elected OFFicial. Talk show scandal. Debate vandals. Decry heathens.
So long as the cogs keep turning For new cars be yearning Digital 'conomy clicking New money earning Burning.
Then nothing is left for your over lord to do In this global N A T I O N. Your gears may grind But not loudly Not fatal.
The system mines the planet Then it mines your mind Polluting earth and spirit. The system wraps you up In a hamster’s wh— race Or shuts you out in the cold.
The system is a virus in our minds Birthed, replicated, copied, mutated. If Earth one body, the system disease. Its first job - to survive the immune response. Confuse the collective, disarm, dissuade. The antidote are those ideas whose time Has come and I name it: CHANGE. Who’s to say, that if 100 thousand poets stood up, And demanded change, What would happen.
The system names you: Friend or foe Then mind where you go. The system has good intentions And rewards for those friends, The system is a conspiracy And robs for those foes.
AH THE CONSPIRACY It’s not a conspiracy, This system of X P L O I T A T I O N. If you set up a system In a certain way With machines With money You can expect Certain results. So sayeth Chomsky (Ding!) So repeath none on prime time TV.
There was a New World once (There have been many) Promises were made and broken Digital is the new nouvelle monde And you say it sets us free of Dr Corp!
You say it: on Facebook, Google, Apple, Twitter, Snapchat . . .
When freedom exists with Stallman - ugh he’s so dirty! [Richard Stallman - libre software - gnu.org]
Social online is ad-free via founder of Wikipedia and ignored - so boring! [Jimmy Wales - TPO.COM]
Marketing COOL turning enough sheep so as we’d all be trampled.
YOUNG SAY What would you know? I’m young and new and fresh None of what you say Applies to me The world is my oyster And I’m the pearl in it My celebrities tell me so!
THE OLD SAY I’m old and wise I’ve read my books I have my heroes And you have yours I’m in this camp Stay in yours.
THE HIVE SAYS Groups within groups Like bee hives Help those like themselves Physic, emote, pense or spirit RE - LIE - GON But another hive foreign?
!WATCH OUT! Here be dragons And not 1 world. Sit back and map The hives and only The way the EXPLOITERS Incite them, swarm them.
WHO WILL SAY The system has you And it has me too. But how can all agree: What is IT really? What does it X P L O I T? How to see IT, truly? How to prove IT exists?
WHAT SYSTEM? The system is a circle of wealth, Call it power, or mana from heaving, [not heaven!] That the people stand around Where the mana swims left to right.
But when you reach back in For your share You note it has been siphoned And because you stood at your post For your diminishing share (Because you had to, right?) It could diminish more.
WHAT E X P L O I T ? No one would stand around that circling drain? What if I told you there were many drains? And while your share is not complete It is a tsunami compared to the trickle YOU pay for your plastic toy.
SEE THE PYRAMID You stand on the 70% Shoulders not of giants But the crushed and meagre. Every step you take, for what you got, Even though you say, “Hey brother it ain’t a lot.”
But it’s OK to sit on your pyramid Because those above you are even worse Makes your crime a jaywalk Make it easy to talk Like you’re on the right side.
And each pyramid Around the world Has its Pharaoh And its nobles Who guard each brick Even though they are so high It’s impossible to see.
Some read Ayn Rand . . . Or try to . . . Ways to justify E X P L O I T A T I O N? Call it self-interest!
THE PROOF If you programmed roBUTs to perform capitalize - *zation - capitalism, Or any of our systems, You’d not see disparity Such as 70% of the world in poverty The model system is wrecked With the first emotion.
Trump and the U.S. leading the charge, For the Western Team, Birthed by Europe its disowned child And in Team East, All the answers, as false.
In every case, Although the cost is high, The country runs, On human will: Subjected or cajoled or bribed.
The countries power is but Its human beings reflected Under systems of ceded authority, Refracted, distorted, wasted.
Coherent thought is coherent light [aka laser light] Marking and burning the system: Authority is empty, fear fulfilled. Power is Life. Life is Power. This country is yours, If together take it!
But, really, there are no countries, So take the world together. There is money wealth power versus Insight caring integrity.
But the giver is the one we want And she is so easily taken She gives it all before she asks Is it me that’s broken?
Even the cycle of R E V O L U T I O N Has been programmed And by the time you are wise enough You are dead enough For the next young group To buy into what THEY are selling: To consume.
THE SYSTEM: Who is THEY??? THEY - is - you. Unless . . . What?
If I set you free, And you can see What could be, Then . . . you tell me!
[THAT'S ALL FOLKS - unless you want to stick around for the EPILOGUE]
EPILOGUE: THE LITTLE ONES
not me! not my friend! not us! the splinter in my “I" is a beam in the other’s ten times the size!
the little ways in which we exploit each other you come to an open mic and everyone listens to you but you leave before listening to them because you’re *special*.
we’re Facebook friends as I scroll by your life we have a contract but you mute ignore skip because you’re the famous 1.
they are artists they have one job lift each other up support those arts but they don’t they want attention earned because each of them think I’m the best 1.
you’re out shopping, feeling the grind notice the cashier made a mistake she’s innocent and hard working and you don’t need that dollar but to hell with her and this shop that supplies my food at petit “prophet”.
you done that deal where you know he didn’t know and you drink to it!
You middle class That just want to be left alone Shut those eyes to refugees And the poor Everyone do right but not right *by* me
Follow the rules, one for all Except When the time comes to pay tax Never mind the disabled you cheated.
Fair trade? Of course Don’t we all Least we could do It’s not even giving that much So fair trade only - all the shelves? Hmmm not so much.
you spoke behind my back you exploited my good nature you were jealous you stole my spot you took me for granted
you were wronged so it’s alright an eye for an eye the bible don’t lie . . . except it’s all rot.
LOVE you got friends who care and you know it gunna pain ‘dem when you hurt yourself you know it gunna trouble ‘dem they come running hard to admit you like it a lot.
you literally stole literature you plagiarised you pretended you lied you tried to cheat you were petty you abused your power
you paid for sex you tricked her into it you got angry you were unfair you used violence you yelled at a weaker man you threatened a woman? well I hope not, that one’s pretty bad.
you’re thinking now of all the others I could say/write The little things Not ***, ***, killing . . . Just those you can’t help but do everyday Everyone . . . in this room.
GUILTY Well, we don’t even call it that: Guilty pleasures White lies A little fun never hurt anyone. What you don’t know can’t hurt you It feels so good because it’s wrong Every BODY is DOING it! That dirty feeling afterwards.
GUILTY! In particular, the poet, First in the dock He who smelt it dealt it, You write what you know And all that . . .
GUILTY? The woman next to you The guy in front You especially! Your own jury Your own judge . . .
But you stay the sentence Guilty of exploitation Time off, for good behaviour Time served, for all the *** stuff That occurred in your backyard.
All the little things You did today, yesterday X-PLOITING the X-PECTATIONS Of trusting souls, and dirty dicks, They come to your conscience . . . they don’t stick.
THE MIRROR
you slept around you put yourself first you were all the things you see outside staring back at you:
The corporations. The, the governments. The powerful rich elite. The violent armies and terror. The climate denying propaganda. The other side of YOUR politics.
The racist sexist old guard. The homophobes and haters. The criminal creed. The self-servers, hypocrites, Them that integrity lack.
Maybe that’s why they make you so mad.
Because
It takes one.
The Devil.
You know?
You know.
You? No!
You KNOW!
This has been the poem X P L O I T - N A T I O N by Lindsay A Gordon for a 100 Thousand Poets for Change Paris 2017 in September.
A global event involving over a 100 . . . 750 cities [around the world]
Video and audio [and subtitles!] was performed by Lindsay A Gordon live, one off.
Just like we do it #spokenword events we don't get a second chance to perform it or to edit it.
You just have to stand up and do your best and that's what we love to hear: great poets doing raw grassroots performances.
And that's what we have every year at a 100 Thousand Poets for Change in Paris and all around the world.
FOR CHANGE. To change some of the things that I talk about in this poem [/prose].
And that exist in the news and that you talk about and complain about.
That other poets complain about. That philosophers talk about.
So, look them up and get connected with your local chapter of a "100 Thousand Poets for Change" [http://100tpc.org]