Here is a new spoken word poem inspired by the same piece as the title of Black Orchid's recent zine "Between the zeal of the young and the patience of the old".
We won't be revolutionaries,
we'll be the revolution.
We are the fault lines
the divine sign
and when it comes time
to fire that nine
we'll be feelin' fine
'Cause we'll take your profits
the things we need
we'll make them
we'll put you in the cemetery
if you try to take them.
is somewhere between destruction and creation.
It's the pent up creativity after centuries of alienation.
It's the bread riot 'cause we need to eat
It's the love dance we start in the street
'cause we can't wait to find a place to meet
we just abolished the whole concept of temptation.
So why are you still here bragging about your nation?
Fuck your borders and your bombs and all of your plantations
We are the global upheaval
Nat Turner's sequel
and heaven's prequel.
And yeah, we're stormin' it -
fuck what's realistic, we're steadily ignoring it
'cause what's on our plate
is way more drastic than 1968
and even back then our graffiti was exploring it
"Demand the Impossible"
not the same old boring shit
is somewhere between "where the people are at"
between the crowd's spontaneous upsurge
and heaven's doors opening
between democratic workers' councils
and the end of work as we've known it
We won't be communists
we will be communism
just like when we were workers
we breathed capitalism,
ate, drank, and pissed every one of its divisions
and each day reproduced that horrible condition
when shit pops off we'll be breathing liberation
and eating emancipation
who speak in conversation
not so much laboring
as being our creation
not so much working for it
more like generation
of everything between us
that conceives revelation