Sep. 15th, 2009

the paradox of bootstraps

change is the cornerstone of this kingdom.
my surrender flag whiteknuckled,
i'm kneedeep in the quicksand moat, in the muck
like where rasputin's eyes unlit and his mouth
erupted the last brown bubbles.
a death rattle:
mothers, fathers are eyedeep and sinking, holding their moses
babies over their heads, an offering
to self-appointed gods, the human service,
thin black baby hairs curled
like a signature annointing relinquishment and blame.
the self-appointed
leave behind the children that are
at the meter of survival out of coins,
take the babies that drive
the profit margin higher,
dole out dollar values that decrease with difference

but it's
for the welfare of the children:
for the welfare of the diagnosed and stigmatized:
for the welfare of the Deaf, hard of hearing, blind, in wheelchairs:
for the welfare of the invisible difference:
for the welfare of the people of color:
for the welfare of the poor:
for the welfare of the intersex:
for the welfare of the queer:
for the welfare of the trans folk:
for the welfare of the glass-ceilinged:
for the welfare of the pagans:
for the welfare of the HIV-positive:
for the welfare of the uninsured:
for the welfare of the immigrating:
for the welfare of the homeless:
for the welfare of the drug users:
for the welfare of the forgotten:
for the welfare of the pregnant:
for the welfare of the imprisoned:
for the welfare of the dying:
for the welfare of the sex workers:
for the welfare of those bloodied by violence:
for the welfare of the young and old:
for the welfare of the war-afflicted:
for the welfare of intersectionality:
for the et al, the lump sum of marginalization


i say
what the fuck do you know about our welfare?
fare fucking well to the violent sexist
able-bodied straight(/gay) rich white terrorizing alms
donated by the pity power of
the righteous across the moat
holding their leather bags,
their red dimes
building fortresses too tall to see over
around my queer,
my poor, my transient body,
beaten so that it swells beyond its seams.
fare fucking well when you
watch me drown in the moat you dug,
when you
beg me shame and adherence to bullshit rules
in exchange for lifting my legs
out of the moatmuck
that is concrete hardened, concrete
that you laid for trapping.

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unearthingbone

February 2012

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