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Text of Poems - Spoken Word
God Has a Plan B (2004)
The Last Liberal in Utah (2003)
Ode to Stolen Moments (2003)
The Patriots Have Acted (2006)
Technophobes Anonymous (2003)
This President (2005)
Voices of Change (2003)
God Has a Plan B
I have figured out why
Bush, Ashcroft, Rove and Falwell
fear the woman with choice –
Because her god can beat their god
with one arm tied behind her back
Her god, my god has a Plan B.
My god is not foiled
by the knitting needle, the coat hanger
the pennyroyal, periwinkle, RU-486
or the compassionate physician.
My god does not stand helplessly by
wringing her hands and
whining to the next
Ghandi, Mother Teresa
Albert Einstein or Margaret Sanger
why they’ll never be born.
She just fills out a new boarding card
pats them on the head
and sends them on their way.
I have always known my limitations.
It is not for me to decide
which spirits will grace this earth.
But it is for me to decide
whether to invite them
into my body and into my life.
When the Great Mother comes knocking –
The answer can be no.
So to patriarchs everywhere –
Have a little faith in the powers that be.
Render unto God what is God’s -
But render unto Woman what is Woman’s.
Inspired by a cartoon by Pat Bagley
I chafe at my exile in the holy city,
but I am not afraid to fight.
I will ignore the propaganda on sidewalk placards -
enrichment by invitation,
creativity by appointment
and offer richer, rockier paths
I will ignore the foghorn whispers
of Big Brother and pulpit politics -
a social politburo of conformity
and live a life of diversity
I will forgive but not forget the constant trespasses
on my front porch and on my patience
of dark-suited young men in bicycle helmets
and offer debate to faith.
I will protest idiocy by elected officials
though it seems I am shouting at the rain,
and offer solutions rather than shields
I will homeschool my children in civil disobedience
to defy theocracy and narrow-mindedness
and create dialogue
One day I will stand frozen in time
arm upstretched like Socrates
in my glass case.
Will young girls in blond braids and modest jumpers
clutch their mother’s hands in confusion
staring up at my contorted caricature;
as unfamiliar a breed as
the Sacagawea or the Susan B Anthony
on their brothers’ coins?
The last liberal in Utah.
Ode to Stolen Moments
It is impossible
to open a Skippy jar in silence -
I surreptitiously swirl the spoon full
and raise it
engorged and glistening
to my eager lips.
I slide my tongue firmly up one side
and then down the other,
Pressing it against the roof of my mouth
Bathing it with saliva
And in a burst of flavor
Letting it sublime down my throat.
This piece was originally performed March 8, 2006 at the "Art of Anti-War" at Under the Bridge Coffee House in Salt Lake City on the very day that Congress passed the "new and improved" Patriot Act. I was dressed as a pink tie-dyed Statue of Liberty, draped in the lovely orange construction fencing the NYPD used to round up protesters in NYC in July 2004. When I walked out on stage, I had masking tape over my mouth with the words "Patriot Act" printed on them. I ripped off the tape and started into the tirade to open the show. Here's a photo of the costume.
The barbarians have moved beyond the gate
with shackles and muzzles and leashes.
These patriots who claim to defend liberty
are forging ther bars of our cages.
Two to one, two to one
These thieves of imagination
these voyeurs of conscience
smugly bartered our freedoms away to fear.
We cannot sit down and be quiet;
we can not sit by and allow
the Bill of Rights to be sold on the cheap.
Come November,
we will burn down that House.
This piece was performed at the Counter Inauguration in Salt Lake City January 20, 2005. People for Peace and Justice posted a photo here.
Over the past weeks, we have truly seen a glimpse of what the next four years hold for the United States.
This President, rather than seeking consensus on critical issues, plans on using “political capital” to ram through a divisive ideological agenda.
This President is seeking to dismantle Social Security, the most efficient and effective social program of this century, in favor of the Wall Street largesse of privatization.
This President has nominated for Attorney General, a man who has said that the Geneva Conventions were quaint, and who splits verbal hairs about the definition of torture.
This President has nominated for Secretary of State, a woman who has consistently deferred to ideology, and has shown a questionable regard for truth.
This President has retained the services of a Secretary of Defense whose disregard for troop welfare has caused even members of his own party to call for his resignation.
This President refuses to acknowledge even the possibility of mistakes in his prosecution of the War in Iraq, and in so doing is prolonging it, resulting in the loss of even more American and Iraqi lives.
This President has refused to hold accountable any but the few low ranking “bad apples” responsible for the torture, and cruel and inhumane treatment of detainees.
This President is now suspected of authorizing covert military operations in 10 other countries, to scout possible targets in future wars.
This President has said that the accountability moment has passed; that because he was re-elected, any perceived shortcomings or misconduct by his administration in the war on terrorism are now beyond questioning.
Some of my CodePINK colleagues are in Washington as we speak, and some of them are carrying signs that say "Not my President." I have to disagree with them. As emotionally satisfying as this sentiment is, it seems to absolve us of our duties as citizens. I will not allow myself this self-indulgence. Whether I like it or not, this president IS my President. His re-election is not my fault, but his tenure WILL be my responsibility.
I will not hide for the next four years, I will not sit down and be quiet, I will not sit by and allow the great promise of liberty and democracy to be destroyed in the name of international adventurism, and global hegemony.
Today, this President took the oath of office. But it remains to be seen whether he WILL preserve, protect and defend our constitution. His whitewashing of the conduct of administration officials, the encroachments on civil liberties, and the blatant disregard for human rights suggest otherwise.
Today, I am taking an oath of office, as an activist and resistor, and I invite you to take it with me.
I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute
the Office of Citizen of the United States,
and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend
the constitution of the United States.
Technophobes Anonymous – Luddite Confession
Hello, my name is Eileen
And I am a technophobe
Oh sure, I’m a SOFTWARE engineer
And I probably shouldn’t burst your bubble,
But all that really means
Is that I sit at my desk
And type those special words
A computer want to hear
Really like whispering sweet nothings
Like phone sex
No contact is ever actually made
That would mean dealing with ELECTRONICS.
Oh, I’ve gone and said it
I suppose it’s nothing to be ashamed of
My father is an electrical engineer
And he has trouble with Email and Windows
But he can take the fucking printer APART.
Maybe it’s one of those Yin-Yang,
Left brain right brain things
Really, I am a tool-using mammal
Is it rational to be afraid of something you can’t see?
There are words that glaze my eyes
And send chills up my spine
Microchip
Circuit board
Network
AUTO EXEC DOT BAT
If I could manage it
I would ban the insidious devices
From my home
From my car
From my kitchen appliances
Denial?
Well, perhaps
I did manage to write software for 7 years
Without ever letting a computer into my home
I didn’t own a VCR until 1990
I resisted fuel injection until 1996
And I ran screaming from cell phones until 1999.
I still can’t set the clock in my car
Yet, I suppose it was inevitable
That Silicon Valley
Would eventually find its way into my costume studio
It’s my new
4 Thread
Convertible
Overlock
Sleek and sexy
Programmable with Liquid Crystal Display
That came with a 12 inch
Binder of documentation
And an instructional video.
I thought I was high-maintenance
I feel like I need to
Take her out to dinner
And talk dirty to her
Before I can slip my fingers under her covers.
I revel in my 1978 Sears Kenmore sewing machine
Sturdy cast aluminum,
Completely devoid of microchip technology
Careworn with chipped paint
And old masking tape guidelines
Ever responsive to the flick of a dust brush
And a drop of machine oil
Between her smooth steel gears
If my beloved ever dies
I will hold an Irish wake
Send her off with a Viking Funeral
And wear widow’s weeds.
Better yet
Give me cast iron and oak,
The gentle whirr of the leather belt
As I turn the wheel
The pull up the back of my calf
As I work the treadle.
My shoulders arched
My arms tensed,
Embracing the fabric.
My fingers
Gently
Insistently
Approach the needle
A simple machine that wants me
For my body
Not my mind.
The Quaking Aspens grow here in the valley;
I see them in careful, furtive
hursts of two or three;
awkward, cut off from kin,
stifled by suspicious suburbanites
who admire and fear
their beauty and their clear voices.
They encircle them in concrete,
severing their secret proliferation
and controlling their sustenance.
In the high country
away from fear
out of bounds
multitudes send forth runners
rising up through all adversity
persistent as a rule
pernicious if necessary
through soil and glade
stone and slope
a single communal organism
some scarred and gnarled with effort
others with smooth clear skin and lithe straight limbs
spreading
seeking
growing
gathering.
In their time,
in their season
tapping deep into the wellspring
raising up
stretching singing arms
trembling floral cascades
shimmering green leaflets
waving exuberant arms as one
bending, swaying
resilient to winds of change
rabble rousing leaves of gold
raining down golden treasure
bending
learning
reaping
sustaining.
Now silent, now vigilant
sentinels in the snow
waiting
thinking
knowing
whispering
sap rising again in the spring.
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