The gentle have begun among us
working slow magic like the growing of roots,
deep magic like the flowing of blood or traffic.
The only thing that stands between them
and complete world domination
is the illusion that there is something
going on here besides naked apes and stuff.
It’s the dazzling varieties of stuff,
the infinite kinds of stuff everywhere on display
though mostly out of reach, that makes
the apes in charge seem invincible.
They have nearly everything, and the meek
believe that that makes a difference.
Surrounded by rooms of furniture,
by exquisite clothing, jewels, flowers,
by underlings to satisfy any whim,
with powers of life and death over other people,
the rulers are well defended.
But the meek have numbers. One day the meek will notice.
And then it will all be over in the twinkling of an eye.
They are meek, not stupid.
And they have already begun.
Author Archives: Alice T4
Legal Action
Polar bears are demanding restitution.
We melted their ice. They are homeless
and hungry. When they invade,
we shoot them. It’s time for us to pay,
they say.
The bees are demanding restitution.
We’ve poisoned them. They can’t pollinate if they lose their hives.
For the bees, we would pay
with our lives.
Frogs demand we replace their marshes.
They have filed a class action suit.
If we don’t pay up, they’ll unleash the bugs.
Then our best points
will be moot.
Women have filed an amicus brief
with the animals, to remind the Court
that their cause is ours, in the long run.
We can make this work for everybody
or we’re done.
News Flash
Banditas with strollers and water pistols
shot the Minority Whip today
for whipping minorities.
They shot the Governor with
disappearing ink
for disappearing on poor people.
They hung the image
of a public servant
by his red power tie
for serving power
instead of the public.
They held up the Treasurer
for money to feed their children.
Nobody saw their faces.
Nobody knows their names.
All we know is
some of these mothers are angry.
Poem for Cockroaches
It is quiet in dark places.
Through a crack comes the smell of food.
Without volition, the cockroach moves
with a swiftness that’s been honed for ages.
Sometimes one of the brotherhood
is caught by sudden light, halfway back home.
Ancestral memory of man
awakens. The cockroach, handless,
knows somewhat of hands.
There is a laden silence.
A wasp, in such a situation, panics,
blunders into walls, at last attacks.
A fly would be long gone.
But calm as one
who’s been in tight spots before,
the cockroach waits, being nothing but aware.
When the shoe falls, the roach is no longer there.
Three things have sustained the roach through every era:
a fondness for copulation;
a taste for garbage;
and a stillness that unnerves predation
by saying: Look: this too is Buddha
This too
This too is Buddha.
Red White and Blues
America’s got the world on a string
We’ve got a little bit of everything
A little bit of freedom
A little bit of peace
A little bit of time living on our knees
We’ve got the red white & blues…oh baby, hang on
They say that the truth’s gonna make us free
If we just stay tuned to cable tv
A little bit of pagan
A little bit of Pope
But ever since Reagan, not a whole lot of hope
We have an election in the year 2020
When a few have taken what belongs to the many.
Afraid we’ve seen it again and again:
two more clueless old white men
We can’t seem to make our system work
Got a president who’s the world’s worst jerk
Gotta keep movin’
We just gotta try
Keep on tellin’ the whole world why
we got the red white & blues…ah, baby, hang on
Sacrament
This is my body. Bread. Break it together.
When you feed yourselves, when you feed one another,
I become part of you, you are nourished by me.
This is my blood. Not water, but wine. Drink
Deep and laugh. I am Joy in Life. All you take in
Is me. When you eat, the universe is
Feeding you, tenderly delivering the food to your mouth.
When you drink, God moves the cup to your hand.
What does God become in you?
What face of God shines from your face upon the world?
By which of the billion names of God
Shall we call one another?
Saturday Night Dead
Saturday Night Live, where are you
while doom is assembled and wheeled into place?
What are you thinking
while a few gorge and the rest go hungry?
While poets scream in the torture,
while our country sides against ordinary people to maintain the rich?
Whom do you talk to, where do you go
while we scramble, speechless, on the banks of Hell?
I wish
you would spend a week on the streets
talking with beggars and peddlers.
I wish
you would spend a week in state prison,
in El Salvador, the West Bank, the Gulag.
Subtle, brie-smooth, empty-hip,
what is it you seek?
Do something hard this week:
look at what hurts.
Your hair may be perfect, but blood
leaks from your ears.
Too-close-to-prime-time players,
your hearts are compromised.
Laughter that springs from nothing
leads to nothing.
Begin with the tears on another human’s cheek.
Look to the headlines that sour your breakfast.
Cowboys in subway stations,
prolife bombers, peaceable missiles,
hateful Christians, furious nuns,
crystalline rock stars, plasticine presidents,
children waking from nightmares of World War III,
children in camouflage playing GI Joe.
O speak of what’s real!
Lest you be smug and suave as your enemies,
hunger for a week.
Run for your life to the border.
You balance above us like acrobats,
tinsel stars in a black sky.
O share what is real!
Let your shambling crazies seek Welfare,
let your M.C. despair,
let your fresh-faced sexpots carry unwanted babies.
We hunger – we thirst – we demand from you
what is real.
O you whose luck and talent have opened for you
doors to the lives of others,
care what you take,
for love slumbers in the lives you enter
and what you seek with your whole being
it is possible you will wake.
In the desert, a thousand miles from television,
a black fetus stirs in the mother.
Speak to that baby.
Your voices carry on the winds of Chaos.
Speak what is real.
Star Scum
Who’s that surfin’ out in space?
Star scum
Must be that damn human race –
Star scum
Warp nine racing round the suns
With their hot rods and their guns
Careless of their neighbors’ curse
Terrors of the universe
Star scum
It was quieter before
Hearing waves break on the shore
Now the skies are full of noise
Rowdy gangs of girls and boys
Watch out
Here they come
Star scum!
Cosmic wind that blew no good
Brought them to our neighborhood
Spewing gases, strewing junk,
Pretty trinkets in their trunk
Punk planet!
Lock your door and hide your brew
Pull your black hole after you
They will ruin your son and daughter,
“Ugly bags of mostly water”
Star scum!
What a frightening thing to see
Outlaw species on a spree
Livin’ fast and livin’ high
Leaving skid marks on the sky
Star scum
Where’d they come from? On the farm
Way out on the spiral arm
Gettin’ by on luck and charm
Star scum
Blooming like some toxic flower
Since the Union came to power
They’re a race that feels no shame
Now we all know who to blame
Star scum
Nuke pollution – bad tv –income inequality
Spread ‘em through the galaxy
Star scum
Techno – disco – pizza pies –
How’d we live without you guys?
Solar slimeballs, cosmic crud
Balls of fire and minds of mud
Put some rubbers in your pants
Grab a humanoid and dance
Who you gonna call?
Star scum!
Sunset, Sunrise
Sunset and sunrise – rim of color at play
moving ahead of darkness, all over the world
color and birdsong hemming
darkness all around
The Doldrums
Becalmed for so long, we forget
the journey. We play games
of chance, succumb to trivial
pursuits, speak only gossip.
Supplies are dwindling. We can’t stay here
and we can’t leave.
Never mind. Glitter on the water and rum,
threat of the brig, chess, flying fish,
somebody always humping somebody.
We turn our thoughts from what we cannot do.
It’s been so long, we would welcome
even a storm, waves bigger than the ship,
terror. Instead we must wait, it seems,
endlessly. The dolphins pity us.
They’re free to go, and we envy them,
looking back at us with their great grave eyes.
From time to time one of us joins them,
diving ecstatically. Death is a place to go.
Lately though, something is different.
Thunder rumbling. Puffs of hot breeze,
ominous. Useless sails above us,
we wager blackly, couple without passion.
Late at night we toss and turn,
anxious, desperate for distraction,
hearing the dark sea slap at the ship.
Oh take us, move us, God of the deep!
We must have change, but we fear it.
Could life be worse than this? Much worse?
The wind of the future approaches.
It will blow away foolishness like foam.
We still might get to where we need to go,
or all dive with the dolphins, but we will move.
Trim the sails, shipmates.
The wind is rising.
Do You Know this Guy?
This man loves to explain.
He’ll explain ‘til he’s blue –
or you. Making things plain
is his game. Workings, history –
no mystery will stand.
The man’s obsessed.
He’ll say what he can understand,
ignore the rest.
If you suggest
a topic where he’s unprepared,
he’ll change it,
not inclined to share,
nor to wonder at what’s strange.
Facts stick in his head like glue –
all else runs through.
He needs
the skins and seeds –
has no use
for the juice.
He never gives up cramming for the test
and wondering why the girls are not impressed.
Kings for a Day
To be king, who wouldn’t want that for a day?
To give presents, throw parties,
do favors for your friends?
My father’s house has many mansions.
Mi casa es su casa.
Buy the house another round.
Settle all debts, release those wrongly imprisoned,
make peace, distribute the harvest,
cause dancing in the streets?
We just need to be king for a day.
Getting everyone fed and in shelter
will take accountants and lawyers
on the actual day we’re king.
Much of the world will simply go on.
New management, new projects,
new regulations. Nothing new there.
Wouldn’t you like to be part of a revolution
where they’re having more fun than anyone
and no one gets hurt?
Not a break but a change,
a turn toward loving.
The Warm Shift.
Be king in your heart.
Be queen. Get ready for the day.
For Occupy
We are the meek
and we’re here
to inherit the earth.
The rich have got richer
the poor have got poorer
for too long.
That must change.
Violence and greed
have ruled us
for too long.
That must change.
Violence and greed
are what we’re fighting
the whole world over
for our children
and our children’s children
so that we can live
like human beings
in peace together
on this beautiful planet.
We occupy
the place where we live.
We take only
what belongs to us.
We are the meek
and we’ve come
to inherit the earth.
Just in time, too!
Temptation Song
You offer me your diamonds and your rubies
You tell me I’m your darling, I’m your joy
You offer me your precious stolen moments
You think I think my life is just a toy
You offer me an office and stock options
You dress me in Armani and Laurén
You let me drive the newest car sensation
But baby, please just be my friend
There used to be a moment when I wanted
All the things you say I have to have
There used to be a time, but now it’s over
I tell you, honey, it’s too late for that
Give me some heart-to-heart action
Give me some relief
Give me a little satisfaction
Let me live in peace
Don’t elect me president or put me on TV
Spare me all the interviews and things to get for free
Dust your victim’s clothing off and give him back his hat
Don’t you dare apologize, it’s way too late for that
Just give me some heart action
Show me a little pink
If you can’t pour out your feelings, honey,
Pour me another drink
Walls
We built these walls around us out of brick
to keep us safe, protect us from the gale.
It’s ill outside. But inside we are sick.
The winds within the walls are small and stale.
Mud, dung, and clay, tree branches wrapped in leather
let too much outside in. We found the trick
of keeping out the bugs, and beasts, and weather:
we built these walls around us out of brick.
They worked so well, we thought to use those arts
to guard our spirits, more than bodies frail.
We built new walls of hardness ‘round our hearts
to keep us safe, protect us from the gale.
For why should strangers ask what we can’t give?
The poor are used to want – their skins are thick –
Still, they increase. It is so hard to live.
It’s ill outside. But inside we are sick.
Cut off from storm, we strain to take full breath.
The winds within the walls are small and stale.
We hear no moans, the walls have made us deaf.
Our outer walls are strong. Inside, we fail.
Smothering and safe, we wonder if we dare
knock out a brick to get a little air.
Our hearts feel small and trapped inside our skin.
When is it safe to let the outside in?
You Believe that Nothing You Do Matters
You believe that nothing you do matters.
Everything you do matters.
You think destruction is certain.
Nothing is certain.
Apocalypse
rides on a butterfly’s wing.
You know how to be a hero.
You have seen enough movies.
You are waiting for the moment to act.
What you own is already crumbling.
Nothing will endure but your spirit.
It is enough.
There’s something you might do someday
to be an agent of magic.
There is something in your heart
you are guarding like a precious fire.
Magic is not an illusion.
History has not stopped happening.
Most of what you have been told is a lie.
When it’s late at night, and you are full of despair
like a well full of poisoned water
you know that you have been lied to.
You know that we are at war
and our side’s been losing.
You know that the peace and plenty
around you are a lie
built on the misery of others.
We have traded away things of great value
for a pile of glittering toys.
But this is no time for despair.
We are just now beginning
to learn how to think as a species.
And love has not forsaken us.
Love is not dead, not damaged,
not irrelevant, not out of the question,
not defeated or lost or in the hands of the enemy
but alive within us
like the cells of our bodies
around us like our families and friends.
In this war, loving must guide us.
There’s a way for the heart to follow.
No one can tell you the special thing
you alone must do.
You wait for a hero.
It is yourself you wait for.
When you wake up
you will get to work.
People of Peace
Now is the time for people of good will
to join together to save all life.
Now is the time to act as brothers and sisters,
to be one people.
Now is the time to make peace.
Now is the time to join up,
all of us together,
one thing, the life force of our species,
nothing but human.
We’re in a tight spot.
Facing the danger means we’ll have to change.
We don’t like change. We like our habits,
all that’s familiar and comfortable.
We won’t move if we don’t have to.
But now we have to.
So we’re going to move.
It took all the skill and energy our ancestors had
to survive hard times, to get us here.
Was all their work in vain?
Whatever they had to do to keep their children safe, they did.
So will we do now.
We are all strangers in this strange land
unless we are all family.
See one another,
love one another,
O people of peace.
Common Cause with China
Making cheap stuff for Americans has helped China’s working class in some ways. In others, it has hurt them. Working in a factory making plastic gimcracks can be terrible for a person’s health, and terrible for the environment.
Why should we buy that cheap junk, anyway? Plastic stuff that ends up as poisonous smoke, or tiny particles that animals eat instead of food, or shards that will fill the sea and cover the earth for thousands of years. Nevertheless people mine for the materials, labor to make stuff out of them, ship it, shop for it, put it somewhere, forget it, and finally throw it away.
Stuff Americans always knew people suffered for so we could buy it cheap. Stuff to brighten our shabby lives. We’ve known all along that poor people have worked long days to bring us our changing fashions and collections of trinkets.
China’s booming economy has supported a growing middle class, which in turn encourages people to get more education and invent new enterprises. They now have many more options than making cheap plastic stuff for compulsive American consumers. They’re leading the way in sustainable energy technologies, for example, since Trump has hobbled that industry in the US in favor of fossil fuel development.
It’s better for all of us that we stop making, shipping, selling, and buying plastic things destined for landfill. Right now, in many workplaces, people are making personal protective equipment instead of plastic crap. Once the worst of the corona crisis has passed, maybe we can shift production again.
The long-term interests of Chinese people, Americans, and everybody else on the planet will be best served if we never go back to the plastic cycle. We need to make solar panels and windmills, trains instead of cars, pack seeds and plants instead of toys and knickknacks.
No matter how our governments fuss and struggle for dominance, let’s remember that Chinese people are just like Americans and everyone else. We all want to live, and our children to live, and our grandchildren. Building a new world where this can happen is our common cause.
War Against What?
People are worn out. Every day is another battle.
Let’s be clear who the enemy is.
The real enemy might not be the virus, but the culture of people at the top who could have slowed it and saved the lives of hundreds of thousands, maybe millions. The enemy is bully culture, which put them in charge.
Bully culture is taking what you want, and the hell with everyone else.
Bully culture is hurting others on purpose, because you can.
Bullies rule us by fear. They pick on us one by one, and turn us against each other.
The only way to fight these evil bastards is together.
The best way to fight terror is to stay calm.
We can get our heads together, online better than in person. We can work together. We can get ourselves organized to build a new culture.
We are many. We can. If we will.
Safe Zones
Mourning and wringing our just-washed hands,
seeing the suffering, wanting it to stop
but staying out of the fight,
living in the safe zones
Hating it but letting it go on —
the cruel way things are organized —
not making it stop — not seeing how to make it stop —
not seeing how many people want to make it stop
The meek: we are the many.
We’re the ones who just want to live
and let live. Our lives are not
about power and money.
Our lives are about
our families and friends.
If they are well,
we are well.
We don’t want to fight
over money and power.
We don’t want to fight
at all.
We just want to live and let live.
Right now
that seems like a lot to ask
