through HER eyes
the stench of our waste is too heavy to escape the atmosphere
and we are stewing in the heated violence
city centers created as economic hubs
funds moving in out and through transportation systems
zipping lights on a circuit board microchip
technological architecture structured on capitalism
with its limits and right angles, grids and dizzying patterns
consumers driving demand driving supply
and we are convinced we have control
as we flip channels, surfing commercials
and filling our cabinets with brand loyalty
and pledges of allegiance to american might
we live in a corporation as we are the audience
yet we still use difference as a steppingstone
economic theory based on our own model of oppression
poverty taken into account as a number instead of a color
we call it class and these folks call it everyday
as they call to a deity they would die for
and we, average and middle, profit on faith and security
in god we trust, one nation under god
we house his riches in a fortified vault in kentucky
the industrial revolution spawned technology capable of impenetrable defenses
and technology capable of injecting male hormones into female bodies (and vice
versa)
and the current evolutionary status of thought has instilled free will, intuition,
and choice
but there is a toll to be paid for the privilege of such freedom
because for all that I Have, there are far more who Have Not
the access, the means, the opportunity, the desire.
I don't subscribe to the notion of one human race united under a banner of equality
I am not like you
the sequence of thoughts peddling forward in my mind are unique to me
shaped and molded by experiences and privileges unique to me
we are influenced by each other but interpretation is unique to me
therefore, the only perspective I dare lay claim to is mine
and it's the woman in me calling out all the wrongs because She felt it first
She was forced into a box
She feels the shame in her desire, in Her body
She bleeds a monthly reminder of Her red rage.
It is Her eyes revealing the imbalance behind the smokescreen
tracing a cartographer's line from top to bottom,
power to powerless and all the struggle in between
for more, for justice, for that holy house on a hill
the american dream built on the infrastructure of a global marketplace
like that weightless starred and striped flag on the moon
claimed, by a law like unwanted hands on an unconsenting body
June 7, 2007