[sic]-ness

plutocracy has made us [sic]

an error of debit and credit

scratched off human lives

whited out human cruelty

where money is the ultimate fix

and blood is just red in a ledger

the poor are typos

irrelevant mistakes

used up commodities

erased with dog-whistle politics

and that all-too-typical rationalization

that we're entitled to what we have

at the cost of others

-o0o-

Fees Must Fall

Please head over to Poetry Potion to read my poem regarding Fees Must Fall:

http://www.poetrypotion.com/fees-must-fall-by-charl-landsberg/

Regards
Charl

-o0o-

Escapism

Tip the bowl
clop, clop
on the wooden table
swish, swish
race the last drop
round, round
like a race car
up and down
in the empty circuit
clap, clap
the crowds cheer
clop, clop
to sooth the empty stomach
clop, clop
"stop playing with your food"
but there isn't any left

-o0o-

Middle Class Empire

Boxed up dream
     wishes in a packet
     production-line style

Shoved into a box
     by those hollow eyes
     that can't afford to dream

Wrapped with cellophane
     with those little pink polystyrene puffs
     for only nine-ninety-nine
   
At a convenience store near you
     call now
     while stocks last

Be the envy of your friends
     this season's dream
     a middle class must-have

-o0o-

Old Walking Stick

I have an old walking stick
A crutch of sorts
Something that I've leaned on
Perhaps everyone has one

It is my weapon against my enemy
With its deftly concealed blade
Whereupon I have pledged to stab it
Into his heart

But the stick is old
It is made by my enemy
And his contemporaries
Crafted with hatred

It is familiar to his touch
Not mine
It is an instrument of his will
Not mine

It is phallic and long
The penetrator
Male in all aspects
Made for domination

I must forsake this thing
This instrument of manhood
This instrument of whiteness
This instrument of power

I must forsake my own power
And take up the arms of those that suffer
To become as they were
Once weak, now strong

I must craft new weapons
With the new knowledge I have
Stand on my own two feet
And raise my voice

Among those that have been raped
Those that have been beaten
Those that have been trampled
By my enemy and his kind

Those that tower over us
Will crumble under their own weight
When we refuse to be their crutches
And we come into our own

We will rise anew
Creations of hope
Strong and again proud
Without shame

[Note for later, perhaps a rewrite. A note on the abandon of whiteness and maleness as a source of power. The use of my place as homosexual as a starting point of embrasing otherness.]

-o0o-

Commedia dell'Arte

Are you happy with me

Here where I stand?

Jester in your court

I stand

Your loyal servant

I stand

All day

My feet pain

Ready with a joke
With a witty reply
The prepared anecdote

To make you laugh

And you laugh heartily 

With the food gurgling

In your gullet

Laugh at me
While I whisper
Some advice into your ear
And you call me
To advise you when none look
And I answer as best I can
With the very marrow of my bones

Your harlequin
Your loyal servant

In my bright clothes

And my silly walk

As I stand eager

To snatch the gold 

From your fingers

That I may go home

And my children will say

"Zanni have you food for us"

And I will say

"Not much"

And my children will say

"But weren't you funny?
You are a Zanni?"

And I will say

"Very. I was very funny

But our master

Does not get the real joke."

-o0o-

Racism

I saw your hatred
And found that...
Arguing with you
Is like punching the floor
First I have to get down to your level
Just to communicate
Secondly, I ultimately hurt myself
Trying to vanquish a foe
That is already as low as you can get

-o0o-

Gold

So many tales by human kind endeavour to be told

But never has there been a story quite like that of gold

It walks with every government with pope and president

Each church of every god has given it their commitment

A story of each human child that bought and lent and sold

And every war that ever waged came from the metal cold

It buys the soul of every being that owes its daily rent

An everlasting debt to all the gold the world has spent

-o0o-

Never Rose

Perhaps a little song for Rose

     A girl caught in the proper pose

         To walk on eggshells, pointed toes

To be the best she can be

The perfect wife, she cooks and sews

     She scrubs and cleans, she weeds and sows

         Her proper manner, her neat clothes

To be the best she can be

Her short-cut nails, her powdered nose

     Her hair tied up with lace and bows

         Hair prim, regardless when wind blows

To be the best she can be

Ever cites the sweetest prose

     She's never haughty, never gauche

         She plays the game as best she knows

To be the best she can be

She's ever careful where she goes

     The party halls, the movie shows

         Prefers the well-lit aisle-side rows

To be the best she can be

Her eyes as gentle as a doe's

     Belies her deeper troubled woes

         She hides her heart's most inner throws

To be the best she can be

That we would bleed

That we would bleed

We were set upon the land

By an angered church

And beset on every side

Stood our new enemy

Whom we'd never known

And God smiled at us from a distance

Stuck behind the rhetoric

Of a gluttonous church

And we fought valiantly

As we watched our men and women dragged away

And our children raped

And our elderly slaughtered

We held up our arms to the sky

And we bled

But the rhetoric didn't save us

And we starved

And the scripture didn't feed us

And the church looked upon us

From a distance with full coffers

And we were handed to the enemy

That we would bleed

And meet a surprised God

Who hadn't expected

To see us this soon

-o0o-

Colonized

[this is still largely a poem under construction - please watch this place for further developments]

I

I feel inconsequential sometimes

Because of what you've done

You stole from me

You raped me

Over and over again

You destroyed my home and family

You tore apart my life

So I was quiet

II

You came to my bed at night

You put your hand on my ass

You put your cock in my mouth

And when I cried you hit me

And when I was quiet you hated me

When nobody was looking

When nobody cared

So I was quiet

III

You stole our home

You kept us alone at night

So that nobody would see

You raped my mother

You raped my grandmother

You pretty much raped anything if

You could get your pants off in time

So I was quiet

IV
And your hatred for black people
Was shouted through every window
Proclaimed to the world
Except when you slept with other men's wives
Who weren't white
But when my friends were black
You threatened to kick me out

You threatened my life

So I was quiet

V

You tore at the land with your machines

You took the metals and gold

You made yourself rich

And left me and the ones I love

You left us to die

And now you hate us

Because we weathered the storm

So I was quiet

VI

And you ran to the church

Where else can paedophiles hide

And you became a Mighty Man

How else do boys become men

But to rape their children

To slap their wives around

To threaten sixty five year old women

So I was quiet

VII
But I'm not that twelve year old anymore
I won't be quiet anymore
I won't simply stand idly by
And let you rape and steal
You're just another colonizer
To be kicked out
And liberation comes quickly
I will not be quiet anymore

Good Enough

You expect lots of me and you
Expect great things that I should do
And I should be as dead as you
And honestly I’d rather die

I should work the hours away
Respect authority and say
“My Lord why you look good today”
And honestly I’d rather die

And I should bow at everything
Your every move, so poisoning,
Your every whim you puke and sing
And honestly I’d rather die

I’ve done those things you’ve said I must
And it got me nowhere, there or bust
I slaved my life in stupid trust
And honestly I’d rather die

Than do such stupid things again
For selfish greedy filthy men
That steal and rape and kill and then
Well I’d be dead
So fuck you
I think I’m good enough

-o0o-

Strangest Church

This pastor a thief, has passion galore
To hide the true fact that he lives like a whore
Christ dies on the street with no food to eat
When pastors rob beggars with sermons’ implore

His church has a train and a restaurant too
Telling the people just what they should do
To abandon their friends, this he recommends
If they be a Hindu or Moslem or Jew

Money changers in the temple most high
They steal from the poor so the poor must rely
On the whims of the great who will always forsake
The true kin of God who must suffer and die

Their worship a noise, a horrid tumult
Offensive to God, to Love an insult
Their babble’s elation sans interpretation
Words without love, such a pallid old cult

And should your afflictions dare to show face
Or sully their comfort or burden their pace
They judge you and spit and then call you shit
And strip you naked of all of God’s grace

Basking in gold from the ones they’ve raided
And then they condemn us pretending they’re jaded
Throwing their slurs, reality blurs
And the role of the church becomes every goal faded

Remember to give them your payslip to tell
Before you forgot all your tithing as well
In case they expel you and drive you to hell
Neglecting the price of the God that they sell

-o0o-