2018-04-30
by
Eleanor Goldfield
May Day
May Day
This is crisis. Capitalism’s a virus.
May Day!
——-
And what do you mean – when you scream
those words, does the sound – shake the crown
of the empire –
in your mind?
Can you find –
your role in this play, this sick old charade –
are you reading their lies and toeing their lines –
Can you see yourself –
in the scars of our place and time?
On this day 132 years ago, the pressure of oppression too great – we did shake –
that crown and the ground – was stained – with resolve.
a moment of silence for those lost to violence –
the lives that were burned – the pleas that were spurned,
please – a moment of silence.
May Day!
This is a crisis. Capitalism’s a virus.
May Day!
Don’t get lost – in the calm –
of a silent reflection – historic affection
these fights – aren’t over.
The Pinkerton’s beatings now cops on their beats – and the FBI files,
the hand shakes and smiles –
of those up on high who chisel away at our measly remains –
and the hard won gains…
The eight hour days –—
it’s been years –
and Their greatest weapon – is fear.
Coz for those who have little, there’s still much to lose
and we’re losing.
We’re losing poor whites to fascists coz we don’t Wanna get nasty –
when our uncle says it’s the blacks see, it’s outreach – the hard work between –
the parades and the signs that you see online.
We’re losing coz we’re staying in line – our permitted rage stays in permitted range – tween the barricades and the cops who kill when enraged, descended from white hate –
we’re losing our minds – smart isn’t cool, can’t stay in school coz it’s closed,
but the prisons are open –
we’re losing our women –
tell me how not to get raped but never tell HIM how to NOT rape –
just our fate? –
from man camps to campus – our bodies, commodities –
belong to the state –
and fuck your pussy hats and Clinton bags – a clit don’t mean you’re fit –
don’t mean you give a shit – bout people and planet
FUCK your profit –
coz we’re losing our air, our land and our water –
coz it’s the economy – our manifest destiny – our colonial imperialist right – to claim and lay waste – from the Black Hills to Baghdad and too much between.
We’re losing our lives – our rights now survive in a pantheon of “wouldn’t it be nice?”
And this isn’t a sermon – I’m not looking for converts,
the fight for our lives isn’t a damn church
what I want you to see –
is disaster on repeat
insanity’s loop – and this ride – is making us sick – and tired.
We’re dying.
But before we die, how should we live?
Huey P. newton said with hope and dignity –
and that’s enough for me.
Stand on those shoulders but know we gotta own this –
this is OUR pace, OUR time
and no one can break THESE chains – but us.
So again I say – May Day!
May Day!
This is crisis. Capitalism’s a virus.
May Day!
This IS a crisis
the cancer is late stage
this capitalist titan is digging our graves –
and we’re making shovels at minimum wage
this isn’t just memory’s kiss – a way to remember in spring’s bursting bliss –
this
is STILL –
a class war – a mass war –
your fight is MY fight and OUR build can only rise –
if together we cry
May Day!
May Day!
This is crisis. Capitalism’s a virus.
May Day!
Only if reactionary ways give way – to action and ways – that build past these days
alternative paradigms
that don’t fit inside the confines – made by the empire
so when you leave, will you keep –
that fight in your bones, the build in your soul
will you crescendo our hope –
will we grow –
will we leave the in-fighting, the whining, the griping –
the theoretical space – the privileged place –
and wage – our work –
Our labor
OUR labor
no more silence
this empire is violence.
May Day!
May Day!
This is crisis. Capitalism’s a virus.
May Day!