Daily Archives: March 6, 2010

Insurrection Song

there’s a leftover hand
on the roadside
something someone lost
in the fierce fight overnight

the insurrection
takes some folks’ lives and everyone’s peace
left a smoke pall over the streets
it’s scary and sweet
in some ways exactly what was needed
we’ve conceded that

already moving on to today’s daylight war
no question that we know what we’re fighting for
there are babies crying today who were crying yesterday
crying comes with our territory — that’s all
there is to say about that –

flat out busted broke
no chance to make it
bosses above with the power to break it open
but they hold the money back and
so we take the chance and crack a gasoline cocktail
against a window and toss a bullet at their heads

if it seems like more of us end up dead
that’s not anything we didn’t expect
it’s just a piled up body count — we die all the time
fly against the system that keeps us out

our babies cry all the time anyway
might as well get it over with and hope that some day
all this blood will wash away the stain of oppression
wash away with a red river the ongoing depression
that holds us down
free the weight we need to throw around
and smash and grab and take what we’re owed
from the hands of those who blow hot and cold
about rights and opportunities that never seem to knock
they talk and talk
no wonder we’re reaching for rocks
and bombs and knives and guns and fire
raise the banner high, the red tide higher

coming home carefully
hiding from the weapons of those we fight
I see that leftover hand someone lost overnight
think about who might not be holding their child tonight

if this is worth doing
we will need to do it right — fight
like angels knowing the cost but believing in the cause
because there’s going to be blood whether we fight or flee
it’s a question of dying slave or dying free

leftover parts tell the story of the war
a lot of broken people bearing witness
to the witless nature of what you sometimes have to do
to change things when it becomes too much to take

if a wall’s too high to scale
sometimes it has to break

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Wicked Tall

“he’s wicked tall”

if you were born and raised around here
you understand that
it means his height
is worthy of remark
and carries a hint of outlaw
as if such height
would have inspired a Puritan
to sermonize

(the usage isn’t modern, you know
it’s been around for at least 300 years)

the intensifier
much as he is

he amplifies

you might attract trouble
he ignites it

wicked tall
must make it easier for demons
to find him

lightning rod
for your late night
bar fight
brought back to full flame
from almost quenched embers
simply because he showed up late
heard half the story
and swung
and now you’re sprung
swinging by his side

you’re wicked good friends
and just because he’s done something
wicked stupid
doesn’t mean you
walk away

that would make you a wicked douchebag

he’s wicked tall
and it would be impossible to deny
that you saw him in trouble
if you run into him the next day

you and your wicked tall friend
get into trouble
and then laugh it off

that’s what you do
in this town
in this state
around here
in wickedville
wherever you find trouble
and someone to share it with

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