Tuesday, February 25, 2014

tabs like peas...sociopolitics+art.

when i 1st saw this i liked it, but is eat plenty vertical space and i had no valid reason to repost, other than my liking it. since these days i accept my inner archivist and choose to make it work for me by sometimes posting random things for my reference, i reposting "two cows", plus some other tabs been sitting, waiting...
TWO COWS ~{Matthias Varga}
SOCIALISM You have 2 cows. You give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM You have 2 cows. The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM You have 2 cows. The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk away.
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.
ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND (VENTURE) CAPITALISM You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States , leaving you with nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release. The public then buys your bull.
SURREALISM You have two giraffes. The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.
AMERICAN CORPORATION You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.
GREEK CORPORATION You have two cows. You borrow lots of euros to build barns, milking sheds, hay stores, feed sheds, dairies, cold stores, abattoir, cheese unit and packing sheds. You still only have two cows.
FRENCH CORPORATION You have two cows. You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
JAPANESE CORPORATION You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called a Cowkimona and market it worldwide.
ITALIAN CORPORATION You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You decide to have lunch.
SWISS CORPORATION You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the owners for storing them.
CHINESE CORPORATION You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity. You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.
INDIAN CORPORATION You have two cows. You worship them.
BRITISH CORPORATION You have two cows. Both are mad.
IRAQI CORPORATION Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No-one believes you, so they bomb the ** out of you and invade your country. You still have no cows, but at least you are now a Democracy.
AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION You have two cows. Business seems pretty good. You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION You have two cows. The one on the left looks very attractive...
talking 'bout politics+corporations, sunity, as always, have bes' words about the situation in sweet t+t. and before we abandon politics, i fully admit i eh know anyting else about the dude, but i cyah help but like this apparently smart+funny canadian politician after reading his tweets...
no connection other than my interest, so no segue: this article delivered more real truth than expected (although i eh sure about use of the word "trained" in title) and i appreciated the honesty, especially as he had to know many would take it as making excuses, rather than an attempt to explain so we can move to suit...5ways modern men are trained to hate women.
i keep art linkage for last so i doh end on a downer: because wasa always digging up the road, potholes, reenvisioned; and because apparently german groceries mash up the dance and we all clearly need to shop there...
and who else mash up the dance? them dancer boys in mayaro the band's short-dhoti song video (which, if you know anyting about life in trini, also provides serious social commentary)

this is just audio and i eh no expert to critique how they beat, but i enjoy the music/arrangement enough to wanna be able to find it again: st.margaret's superstars, panorama2014 semis, medium band playing de fosto's in de minor, arranged by shenelle abraham 
and as that had no visual, and is carnival, take a lagniappe: me eh know if it real or set up and me eh care; enough of them look jokey enough to make me laugh, so right now these haunted house photos could share...
real words sooncome...walk good.

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Sunday, February 16, 2014

life go in every direction except rewind

hear nah, mos def yasin bey so good i cyah delete the doubling and sometimes tripling of his albums in my player because when i search him and just play all, i fucking love when just as i get sad, like the final sentences of an amazing read, because a bes' track finish, the fucking track come again!
noted [only] those words days ago because the thought came when that was all i could spare time for. i return now, days later remembering gist only, start reading+remembering+enjoying, then sight of the last (forgotten) words unexpectedly snaps my brain to: i wish fred could come again...
and the black hole threatens to swallow me, engulf my need to write, to speak in the moment, instead of so long after that i struggle to remember and anxiously doubt my accuracy, veracity; i want to at least know+intend when fictionalising...

walk good.

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Sunday, February 09, 2014

word/love

sometimes i read others' words that make me want to use them, appropriate them, because they fit me so right...recent spoils include someting to the effect of "...i’ll fuck you with questions until you cum with answers..." and wherever i read the original wordage, it was all i read on the page so i cyah say no more about it, except that line jump out at my eye+mind and make me feel to wash foot and jump in 1time; had to run with it for a minute, trying to express someting i try telling before, seemingly in vain; hopefully this help me say it so the harden understand...
i's a truthsayer. lie slayer. the 1ting i demand, non-negotiable, is complete honesty. i’ll fuck you with questions until you cum with answers you eh know you have. and if i choose you, make the most of your good fortune; let me consume you, swallow you, whole, cock+mind. doh 'fraid. a muse this powerful, worth losing yourself to, for what she make you make better...
with that off my chest, related news: for 3canal carnival show2014 grimeee not only will i get my own bamsee-spotlight to perform to my absolute favourite canals-tune, ah love it (ah love it, ah love it), i also get to perform roger bonair-agard's chantuel hymns from his tarnish and masquerade, and lemme tell you, is panties, 1time; this fucking poem so good it make me wanna write a poem about how fucking good this poem is; even delivering at a whisper bring me to tears+winery; still jealous i eh write these words meself. i admit this may not be full[y]/accurate txt because i sadly doh own a copy of this collection, just read it years ago and right now working from a show script, but it too brilliant to not share whaever i have of it...enjoy.

i lost my virginity   to calypso
to the songs of slaves
the ghost of souls
that disappear with language lost
my grandfather's french-african patois
never sang to me

except through these songs - l'overture's dream
rhyming its way hard through steelband
and the repartee of african ballad
griot story made freedom song
my waist learned to move
with the whip   with the song   with the prayer
with the silent acquiescence of my grandfather's tongue
phasing out his own creole
for the victorian flourish of his father's hand
through the ghost of a language lost
i learned the stroke of a sweet fuck
a soul taking up residence in music
surviving life as a squatter in redeemed people's songs

i lost my virginity
to the echo and the crackle of the cane brulee
first declaration of emancipation
bacchanalian festival
turned revolt turned african turned lost tongue
turned the still raging fire
hollowing out the soul of the oil drum
to revive africa as a stubborn tenant
in a european mask

we learned how to fuck like this
this 'sweet wine'
like surreptitious like uprising
like make more africans while massa sleep
make more drums to replace the ones banned
more tongues to sing the ones cut out
and made to drop useless
on the cocoa floor - the tongue
my grandfather replaced with the black foot dance
of the coffee bean
and the bois of the gayelle
and the future for his children
and the land that he left

this is how we learn to move
slow figure eight from waist down
put the heartbeat into the grind
and jouvert and dimanche gras
we learn to move like sand
shift like the chatter of forbidden tongues

or the movement of waistlines through impossible emotions
and remember these tongues

through steelpan and calypso
we learned to live
under the shadows
of our grandfather's tongues
in the middle of the night
in the stomp of the shango ritual
in the silence of ash wednesday
in the chaos of the savannah dust
in love and lust
and the eternal stroking of the hips
we learned to move
we learned to move
we learned to move
and still have the language to prove it.

walk good.

2 Comments:

Blogger crazyfool said...

incredible poetry. move(d) indeed. and yuh pretty fine with yuh words as well 'truthsayer'... thanks for sharing.

6:40 pm  
Blogger m.jamesphotography said...

I'm in awe..I always enjoy reading your blogs..thanks for sharing..it is always a treat

11:17 pm  

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Friday, February 07, 2014

end of an era

moving done. the st.james flat no longer mine, its murals sit unwatched or already painted over, i doh even know...nor do i particularly care, i find, surprised...been saying since they reach i cyah imagine giving them up, and when rent$ was nowhere in sight and i deeply reconsidered the financial counterintelligence i was engaging in to maintain that space i loved so, they were what stopped me from giving up, giving in. yet now i moving away, leaving them behind, and finding myself relatively unmoved.
the end of an era; slightly sad to see, but with no regret or longing or desire to hold onto it, in full agreement that now is the time the time is now.
from a distance that felt infinite i watched my plants on the gallery die with fred. never been able to be that callous about plants before, always had to save even what i knew i had no use or space for, try to find homes for what i couldn't keep...this time i let them go, not realising until retrospect we were on fred's timing...before i actually knew i was moving back to diego i was already conserving energy, only watering those that would want to come here...
meanwhile, an 18year-old tracking me since just before fred dead. i done say i am literally twice his age and could be his mother and never turned on by extreme youth neither but he persistent in the face of my honesty about the fact that he extremely unlikely to get anywhere. the inevitable lock-off became necessary the other night when he try to buss the most insensitive track ever via whatsapp: he open with a line about how i been so scarce [yes, he know my father just dead, not that he study that when he wash foot and jump in, clearly, foolish] and when is he going to see me, because, and now i must quote: "...i'm dying here"...i tried not be harsh, but couldn't not hit him, "actually, no, you're not, dying is what my father did boxing day"...and even then he so young i had to explain to him how he just proved my point that i doh deal up with youths because they eh ready for life+death where+how i living it, or as real as mine...
or maybe i just feeling bite up because my father gone...
walk good.

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