Posts Tagged ‘ revolution ’

A Revolutionary Act: Samantha Zighelboim – BOMB Magazine

It’s a revolutionary act, to experience and portray the fat body as something you can live in and sit inside without working toward another form. – Samantha Zighelboim

The poet on confronting societal limitations about the body, navigating the language of fatness, and celebrating friendships that embrace the joy of food.

Source: A Revolutionary Act: Samantha Zighelboim – BOMB Magazine

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two by Mel Elberg | The Brooklyn Rail

INTEGRATED ARTS

 

Our goals can never be achieved through evolution, only through revolution
-Shulamith Firestone               

 

be a woman    reality  with yr hand on the thigh of my eros  please her

as you ejact      spirituality from the real’s repression                       eating

yr fist     mother nature interior               keeps both earspressed    to the wall

with tiniest voice inside it                       the soft fall

of an old newspaper              yr only alive for part of this simulation once

be a woman      under flesh eating flowers     thought worms   attracted

to the glow-eyed`       who wait for no sunshine           be a woman   doom

doom   an accident     blackthorned   eglantine          loosely diagnostic

my heart is a fine hurtle over which you climb

as if   no one lived there

it is not             an alarming situation

            but a gross  abuse       of life  sex     power     we’ve met him

many times before                  be a woman    turning             turnt

ore of the most sweeping global paranoia     ruinous                fuckable

girlhoods         capsizing         (to get rid of the Earth    will be man’s

ultimate sexual domination)     be a woman    he wants it

to be a surprise prove he knows her worth  a   hand   in    mouth    the myths

as product       and their reproducibility inside me       for a fee

she’ll raise you a little erotic charge    a violent   pocket of time

be a woman    supposed not to be   a woman           deconstructing

deep optic fantasy      I am a cunt in the earthbloodying pure heaven

a woman   composing unpower in the vaginal billfolds     of the cycle’s open secret

the silence is the folding action              of concealment        sex

on a dead thing        men there

be a woman

 

Mel Elberg is a queer poet interested in speculative feminisms and the effect of writing on our experience of time.

Source: two | The Brooklyn Rail

Feminists have slowly shifted power. There’s no going back | Rebecca Solnit | Opinion | The Guardian

An #MeToo march in Hollywood, California in November 2017. Photograph: Mark Ralston/AFP/Getty Images

The #TimesUp and #MeToo movements are a revolution that could not have taken place without decades of quiet, painstaking groundwork, writes author and columnist Rebecca Solnit.

Source: Feminists have slowly shifted power. There’s no going back | Rebecca Solnit | Opinion | The Guardian

Tracy Chapman – Talkin’ bout a Revolution [High Quality] – YouTube

Poem of the Week: Stephen Collis from Once in Blockadia – LEMON HOUND 3.0

 

Come the Revolution

Come the revolution / we will the revolution / we will return to the revolution / return to the sensuous body of language / come the revolution / we will return to the / sensuous body and / sound will propel us / through the barricades of others the revolution / through the barricades of otherness / and come as mere sparks will / spark us come the revolution anew / and we will the revolution come anew / and irony will no longer bind us / the sensuous body of language lift us / fringe to feather to fold us / the sensuous body of our methods / singletogetherness / and come the revolution / we will have time / the revolutionary time / to live the silent lives of animals / the revolutionary animals we have lost / that is animals we have killed / the extinctions corrupt economies / come the revolution throwing / throwing off sparks and new economies and / sound will propel us through the revolution sensuous / the animals we are sensuous as climates / as producers and consumers / as time and sound and / the sensuous body of language / will come the revolution when / banks will have shaken / banks shaken to shivers / shivers come the revolution / all fossils fuel for their own revolution / will come and walking as sound / through sensuous bodies formed we will walk / through an endless park / sensuous a park will walk from each of our abilities / to each of our needs / through sound the revolution / come sensuous come stroll / come the revolution we will / roll through bird song and / singular birches come / the transformations of home and together / the revolution this ecos will echo the /sensuous body I speak of / as system as living fabric come / together the revolution through this other’s / effulgence so others / other species climates come the revolution / we will echo new limits we will / wrap self-governance in limits in species in webs / wrap the sensuous body in webs / of human tongue and animal revolution / self-governance in bios in animal / wrap sound all lifted to be level / to small habitations and habits to be level / as animal and sound and sensuous bodies / small hearths of animals own / all of us all animals not owning joining / come the revolution we will / come to be animal to be sound / sing the revolution we will / sing the swords out of songs / sing swords into songs / songs through flowers through fields / sing bees through these fields / sing carbon out of atmospheres / sing chemicals out of oceans / sing economies incapacities even / sing balance sing home sustainable / sing sustainable come sound / sensuous bodies sustainable / sing songs of the absence of oil and death in the oceans // unsustainable // of tanks and guns and airstrikes // unsustainable // of endless colonial occupations // unsustainable // profit motive and equity investments // unsustainable // sing come the revolution / sing a jubilee for all the revolution / sing come hammer come storm / the revolution will come and we will / as animals as sensuous bodies / begin to be bornCome the revolution / shit will no longer be fucked up and bullshit / and that which is loving in our hands / will touch that which is loving in each and every others’ hands / and while reading this poem / still won’t be the same / as storming a bank oil refinery or a parliament / you may yet be reading this poem / to a group of people with whom you will presently / be storming a bank oil refinery or a parliament Come the Revolution can be found in Stephen Collis’ Once in Blockadia, published in 2010 by Talon Books.

Source: Poem of the Week: Stephen Collis from Once in Blockadia – LEMON HOUND 3.0

Revolution in the end time: A reflection | Autonomies

So what now? We’d like to make a break for it, right away, to really be done with it all – but at the end of the day, the force of our “no” depends on the collective power behind it. That power must be built.

Get property. Pirate radio. Build stoves. Learn to cook. Learn Languages. Get arms. Open street carts and businesses. Occupy buildings. Set up cafes. Diners. Restaurants. Pizza shops. Book stores. Permaculture. Mend wounds. Lathes. Giant pots. Orchards. Build friendships. Acquire film equipment and make documentaries. Talk to old comrades. Learn martial arts, Read. Travel. Learn from each other. Write newspapers. Weather the hard times. Loot. Hold regional gatherings. Write internal journals. Refine the art of sabotage. Distribute counter-information. Offset presses. Raw materials and the means of production. Three thousand camping bowls. Survival packs. Organic seeds. Share thoughts, feelings, and practice. Learn history and learn from history. Build tables. Make art. Go to the woods. Summer retreats. Dance parties. Get cars. Steal money. Move close to each other. Start uncontrollable riots.

 

Source: Revolution in the end time: A reflection | Autonomies

Galina Rymbu; Poems – palmermethode

the moving space of the revolution
you think you’re Nekrasov or something, bitch?
war machines all along the roadside
the functionary of the whip
took a taste
little dialogues going on in a black bar
conspirators sleep
in butovo, golianovo, khimki
halted by knowledge
bought on sale
but my beloved isn’t sleeping
what will you do
but my lover isn’t sleeping
what should I tell him
a boy in a freshly bought che guevara t-shirt
thrashing about incoherently in a jail cell
in his face you can see a beast, a bear,
pieces of a wolf, a machine gun report
the hallways of our houses are covered with slime
livelihood leaves no space for life
and no strength to choose death
so they choose struggle
washing the bodies of the dead with the red nightmare
buying your son a toy out of inertia
hinting at war
but my beloved isn’t sleeping
she’s crossed over the barrier
but my lover isn’t sleeping
he’s already setting everyone free
though he says: the liberation narrative is dead
and this autumn the sacrificial smoke of animals will rise into the air
this autumn a pale fire
we gave ghosts the keys to our apartment
people with no savings come out to meet us
this autumn rips your heart out
it screams, “where is your heart?”
and everything inside burns
the body is a travelling puppet show of criticism, fury, horror
and there’s no impulse anymore
to tear off one’s shirt, to tear away and stomp down the wet highway
these are the words of someone who’s never known age
for someone who
never loved and died

Source: Galina Rymbu; Poems – palmermethode

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