Showing posts with label words as weapons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words as weapons. Show all posts

Friday, 31 January 2020

Words, Our Weapon.

 
      Words are sharp deadly weapons, and are at our disposal every minute of the day. Let us use these deadly weapons as darts of truth that will help assassinate the system that continually tries to kill the human spirit that nestles in all our hearts and minds. 


If words are as dangerous as bullets
and sharp as knives
Can we start filling the pages?
grinding our pencils to stubs
Turning ink into guillotines
prose the ropes onto their wrist
and rhyme these prison walls to paste
cause nothing else seems to be working
heads aren’t rolling, the streets are on holiday
maybe enough words can spark
a million fires in our hearts
which would create a million fires in the banks
a million convicts in the streets
Not giving a fuck about a voters box
Giving a fuck about having a life
our words can break these chains?
then gather our dictionaries
there aren’t enough thesaurus’ in the world
I need to fight more, I need to write more
My tongue has been shackled
I haven’t resisted, I haven’t insisted
More words, more battles, more victories
more poems, more struggle, more bumps
We’d be fighting w/our minds
dismantling the system that strangle us
Then turning those words into life
A life more important than burning & bombing
Enough magic, love, growth & life
We can grow into a space worth existing in
Our words can get us free
Visit ann arky's home at https://radicalglasgow.me.uk

Thursday, 14 March 2019

We The Poets.



        As someone who tries now and again to write poetry, I have always seen the “poet” as somebody with an obligation. To seek out and shine a light on injustice, and where suffering occurs, call out the perpetrators. Of course not everybody sees it that way, it is a simply a personal view.
We The Poets.
We the poets
must rise to hold the mirror,
not at romantic moon
dressing tress in silver web
but, at sadness in a child’s eyes
helpless face festooned with flies,
the listless look of hunger.
We the writers
must rise to hold the mirror,
not at hopes of superstars
pandering to an ego of selfish greed
but, at misery of the world’s maimed
duty done by smart bombs, computer aimed;
peoples crushed by pityless power.
We the artists
must rise to hold the mirror
not at views from penthouse windows
of meadows green and lush
but, at peoples broken by starvation,
at war, its brother deprivation,
capitalism’s bastard twins.
If across the planet as a whole
if we don’t stand up and play our role,
poet; heart of compassion,
writer: voice of conscience,
artist; eyes of justice,
we’ve cheated tomorrow’s generation,
hurried the planet to extinction.
 
       I have always seen words as powerful tools, they can be used to inspire for good or for bad. Our “lords and masters” use them with great skill in an attempt to keep the population submissive to their woven illusion, that we live in a democracy. Those who know different, surely have an obligation to dispel that woven illusion. Words can go a long way in bringing about the destruction of that dangerous and debilitating illusion.
The American poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti wrote:
     “If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of apocalyptic times, even if this meaning sounds apocalyptic.
       You are Whitman, you are Poe, you are Mark Twain, you are Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay, you are Neruda and Mayakovsky and Pasolini, you are an American or a non-American, you can conquer the conquerors with words. ... “
From Poetry as Insurgent Art [I am signaling you through the flames].

Pity The Nation.
“Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerors
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture…
Pity the nation oh pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away…”
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Visit ann arky's home at radicalglasgow.me.uk