General Strike!!!
How to Trick the Trickster
If you could kindly tap the ❤️ at the top or bottom of this newsletter it will make it easier for other people to find this publication.ကျေးဇူးတင်ပါတယ်! Ahéhee’! བཀའ་དྲིན་ཆེ།! 謝謝! Thank you! ขอบคุณ! شكرا ! תודה! Спасибо! धन्यवाद! Cảm ơn bạn! អរគុណ! Merci y Muchisimas gracias!
Painting by Emily Kame Kngwarreye
…
I remember the feeling of aimlessness.
Back when aimlessness wasn’t seen to be a setback.
Back when aimlessness was a rite of passage.
Back when we were able to be bored.
Bored long enough to make beauty.
Bored long enough to adorn ourselves with feathers
and Dance upon the eARTh.
.
.
.
Way back.
Way back.
.
Back when aimlessness was a sacred cornerstone
Of a firm foundation
Upon which was built BECOMING.
…
On days when I rise early enough
And modernity’s noise has yet to cloud my View
I can still remember the Sound of Silence.
Beautiful, story-filled Silence.
…
I remember when I was 5
May 13, 1985 to be precise.
That was the day the Silence died.
It was on this day the Pennsylvania State Police
Dropped a bomb from a helicopter
Onto a black neighborhood in Philly.
11 people were killed.
5 of them were children.
.
Oh, none of this is new I’m afraid.
America has always been ICEy
We just have this awful tendency to forget.
But their silence will soon again tell.
…
How telling.
…
Dead soil will have the final word.
And Coyote,
Oh, that blessed Brother of Dawn,
Whom Never Forgets
As he leaps wildly around these enslaved fields of gold,
Mad from the pervasiveness of an unpleasant recall
Carries still the clear memory of what initially caused
The Fall.
…
After all is said and done
It may very well be he alone
Who remains sane enough to guide us home.
…
“Never trust a prankster”, they say.
Maybe so.
Maybe so.
…
Forget the sound of one hand clapping!
Listen instead to the moon!
Feel again that precious longing,
And bear witness to the blazing Sun.
By all means, GENERAL STRIKE!!!!
Hell, stick around a while and OCCUPY!!!!
But woe to he who neglects yet again
To bow to the eARTh at dawn.
For it is not merely the sad orange one who ultimately is to blame
Indeed, it is we
Who left Her all alone.
…
But Coyote remembers.
Oh how terrible it was…
If only he could forget it all!
If only for a day…
How quickly we severed Her life-giving limbs.
Collective amnesia dismembering his
One. True. Love.
We simply left Her there.
All alone.
Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.
…
Now he alone carries the memory of how to sing again those holy songs.
He alone knows where to find the heart.
But what game shall we play now?
How to trick the trickster???
…
A balancing act.
A narrow passage ahead.
Be kind to Chaos and Chance!
Remember the power of aimlessness.
Keep going.
Take courage.
DANCE!
.
Abandon all hope of fruition, my friends
And allow your tears to fall.
May they water at last our Mother Earth
And answer The Tricksters call.
.
Let go, dear friends, of your righteous need to be right.
Lay down your guns.
Liberate the dying of Light.
…
There is still Time.
or…
If you could kindly tap the ❤️ at the top or bottom of this newsletter it will make it easier for other people to find this publication.ကျေးဇူးတင်ပါတယ်! Ahéhee’! བཀའ་དྲིན་ཆེ།! 謝謝! Thank you! ขอบคุณ! شكرا ! תודה! Спасибо! धन्यवाद! Cảm ơn bạn! អរគុណ! Merci y Muchisimas gracias!
#mayallbeingsbehappyandfree





Thank you!
Thanks for the reminder man. Skipped work today because of your post and a few others.
A few from one of my favorite street poets for motivation:
Eternalists
https://youtu.be/AeZtnPiMfQA
Attack The Block:
https://talibkweli.bandcamp.com/album/attack-the-block