I am a 71 year old libertarian socialist and writer, this webpage is part of my life’s work:

https://davyking.com/politixMIX.html

ISHIKAWA TAKUBOKU                        1185-1912   

After an endless discussion

​

The way we read, the way we discuss,

And the way our eyes shine

Match the young in Russia fifty years ago.

We discuss what we should do.

But, there is no one who with a clenched fist bangs on the table

And declares: 'VNAROD'

​

We know what we are seeking after;

We know what the people are seeking after;

And we know what we should do.

We know more than the young in Russia fifty years ago.

But, there is no one who with a clenched fist bangs on the table

And declares: 'VNAROD'

​

They are the young who gather here;

They are the young who always give the world what is new.

We all knew that the old would die soon, and victory would be ours.

Behold how our eyes are shining and how hot is our discussion!

But, there is no one who with a clenched fist bangs on the table

And declares: 'VNAROD'

​

Ah, though the candles were already replaced three times,

And the bodies of small bird lice float in the tea-cups,

And young ladies are as eager as they ever were,

There is tiredness in their eyes after a long discussion.

But, there is no one who with a clenched fist bangs on the table

And declares: 'VNAROD'

Greed

why don't rich people retire?

we trade time for money

once necessities are covered

the time we sell

is worth more to us

than money

​

greed is the fear of poverty

gone malignant

you can't turn it off

it grows like a tumor

​

once an adaptive strategy

against an irritant

hustle mode

gets stuck

​

unprepared for success

young people

program themselves

to hoard

​

when it comes

they miss it

fail to cash out

and live in fear until death

Coupons José Antonio Rodríguez

That was the year I wished
our sentences had no periods.
The year you said something meaningful
about a constellation. The year
I pretended to see it because
that was the one thing I was good at.
I smiled through all our arguments
and you reminded me that English
was not my first language.
I said let’s go sit under
the old high school bleachers
because that’s what people do in movies
when they want to see things from a distance.
But there was a concrete stadium instead
and under it only public restrooms.
That was the year I thought
a high school diploma could fill
the hole in my stomach. You grinned
when I wrote h.s. graduate
on my Burger King application.
We said nothing when we found out
the pay was minimum wage, how
I’d still need coupons to eat there,
the ones from the junk mail.

November 15, 2012

did you notice?

​

in a capitalist world

people don't cry

when people die

​

they shelter themselves

in a steel box

of stoicism

​

they harden themselves

to the luxury

of feeling

​

no drama

they have seen enough

drama

​

she is in a better place

no more need

for dollars

​

no more layoffs

recessions

debt

​

born too soon

before the death

of hustling

​

people wait

for death

in silence

Poem by Joe Williams

I threw an egg at Thatcher.
Not the real one, but the statue
they put up in Grantham,
which is the closest you can get
since she’s been ding dong dead

Full poem here

Hello comrades! I wanted to share a new Discord server I’ve made called “Bread and Circuses” focused on creating a community/network of leftist content creators/culture workers/artists to collaborate together, support each other, learn from each other, and share our work. It’s still very barebones but I really want the server to grow with the community vs dictating how it will be from the jump. So if anything I’ve said interests you and you write poetry, we’ll be waiting for you over at https://discord.gg/9j6rURMWZa

REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #9

advocating

the overthrow of government is a crime

overthrowing it is something else

altogether, it is sometimes called

revolution

but don’t kid yourself: government

is not where it’s at: it’s only

a good place to start:

1. kill head of Dow Chemical

2. destroy plant

3. MAKE IT UNPROFITABLE FOR THEM to build again.

i.e., destroy the concept of money

as we know it, get rid of interest,

savings, inheritance

(Pound’s money, as dated coupons that come in the mail

to everyone, and are void in 30 days

is still a good idea)

or, let’s start with no money at all and invent it

if we need it

or, mimeograph it and everyone

print as much as they want

and see what happens

//

declare a moratorium on debt

the Continental Congress did

‘on all debts public and private’

& no one ‘owns’ the land

it can be held

for use, no man holding more

than he can work, himself and family working

//

let no one work for another

except for love, and what you make above your needs be given to the tribe

a Common-Wealth

//

None of us knows the answers, think about

these things.

The day will come when we have to know

the answers.

We are the builders of our society

Not the ones who have plundered its wealth.

They will soon learn that their own selfish interests.

Will never override those of our health.

.

Chorus:

So, fly, you glorious, you red banner,

Along the path that Marx foretold,

That we're the future of our planet

We are the workers of the world!

.

Rulers of workplaces, rulers of nations,

Your reign of terror will finally die.

When the people learn of a better future,

Your best hope is that our mercy is high.

.

Chorus

.

What other lies will you conjure tonight?

That your way is moral, or your power's right?

The people are starting to see through your gas lights,

They have a hope that the future is bright!

.

Chorus

Edit: mobile formatting is worse than capitalism

This subreddit was looking rather dead,

So I thought I'd share my love of red

In hopes that other comrades would

Submit the work they thought was good

So if you've got a flair for writing,

And the workers need uniting

Write a poem; we could start

A revolution with our art

https://www.amherst.edu/system/files/media/0507/Mayakovsky%2520Cloud%2520in%2520Trousers.pdf

REVOLUTION

The world is quite bad!

But there's a solution!

What needs to be had

Is a revolution!

So, you are a slave?

And you don't like that, no?

Be sure to be brave!

Then, your lords, overthrow!

You don't like a thing?

Use violence, then bolt!

You don't want a king?

Then stand up and revolt!

Capitalism's wrong?

Something you're despising?

Have heart and be strong

Then start an uprising!

This way works always!

If we just stand up all!

They'll listen to us!

We will be standing tall!

16 heures

l'Etoile

the communists have fine Eyes

some are young some old none

look alike the flics rush

batter the crowd sprawls collapses

singing knocked down trampled the kicked by

flics rush(the

Flics,tidiyum,are

very tidiyum reassuringly similar,

they all have very tidiyum

mustaches,and very

tidiyum chins,and just above

their very tidiyum ears their

very tidiyum necks begin)

let us add

that there are 50(fifty)flics for every

one(1)communist and

all the flics are very organically

arranged

and their nucleus(composed

of captains in freshly-creased

-uniforms with only-just-

shined buttons

tidiyum

before and behind)has nucleolus:

the Prefect of Police

(a dapper derbied

creature,swaggers daintily

twiddling

his tiny cane

and,mazurkas about tweak-

ing his wing collar pecking at his im

-peccable cravat directing being

shooting his cuffs

saluted everywhere saluting

reviewing processions of minions

tappingpeopleontheback

"allezcirculez")

--my he's brave...

the

communists pick

up themselves friends

& their hats legs &

arms brush dirt coats

smile looking hands

spit blood teeth

the Communists have(very)fine eyes

(which stroll hither and thither through the

evening in bruised narrow questioning faces)

It was like lightning in a bottle You held it in your hands Charged and powerful but trapped Then you get curious so you look inside The thrill you get is exhilarating So you keep looking in unknowing That each time you do a little is being freed Until your left looking in an empty bottle Standing out in the storm Trying to recapture what you lost

Will write on eggshells if he has to ---
Napkins, toilet paper, hostel registers ---
Gathering the historic moment ---
O spare me, spare me, spare me a quarter, son

To my sick brothers and sisters, I must ask: "How can I call you my countrymen?"

I wish to, truly. I long for the day when I can safely return home to the mountains of my state and float lazily down the Boise river. I miss my place in yours pews, and the quiet liturgy of your service. I remember that freedom you once embraced. It was warm.

Now, though, you terrify me. Have you forgotten who we are? Who we were? What mythic past drives you so? What great culture is dying? I cannot understand; I am right here, where I have always been.

I have not changed, only found my voice. Listen! Do you know who I am? If not, then I will teach you. Do you hate me? If so, then I will bear you. Do you fear me? Forgive me, then, for I cannot relent. It was never who we were.