“He's a real nowhere man
in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans…”
—John Lennon / Paul McCartney
He slices/dices street heat from fiery
formulations he finds awkward. He froze on
Ferguson and Flint. And Arab Spring wasn’t his
thing. He wasn’t high on Occupy. George Floyd
Summer was a bummer. He cursed Striketober
when he was sober…
“shift:” To hell with Harlemites fighting to re
name a confederate-christened school after one
of their own
“option:” He tells Star-bucked baristas—sick and
tired of being sick and tired—and Amazon workers
Organizing on Staten Island: His wise words are in
dispensable:
“Slow down—lemme catch up—And lead you, fools!”
“caps lock:” Wagging his finger he moves the masses
in Manilla, Managua, Minneapolis, Gaza off
struggles for democracy costing years, ribs, eyeballs,
teeth and
Lives…
American. Wants it all. Now. Like his coffee, like his
croissant. He clicks socialist—communist—revolution!
“control:” He establishes ‘air superiority;’ ‘no fly zones;’ puts ‘boots,
on the ground.’ Screaming missiles; exploding bombs; smells of fear
unwashed for weeks; unburied bodies are canceled by sizzling bacon
and eggs and steaming espresso… In harm’s way—17” screen—he
practices palace anti-imperialism; Colorizing revolutionary mass
movements; Arguing force fully for Nationalist International
strongmen get out of The Hague cards. He knows which smart bombs
work best for backwards bus drivers, janitors, truckers, teachers,
warehouse workers without agency.
“command:” He hasn’t marched since the president began every
sentence with “Well…” fired striking air traffic controllers and
claimed Contras were Freedom Fighters. He felt the Bern—twice.
Hopping mad—chaffing—he chastised those whose pants weren’t
similarly on fire.
“return:” Just saw him again—off command and control—for a
New York minute—swapping blue light for sunlight; and monitor
screen for sunscreen
“esc:” Omniscience in fact… he’d held Sugar Hill high ground…
Supermarket or pharmacy, I see him once every other year;
Still wondering if he can
Organize himself and other two-time losers for lunch without the
same arguments Dylan heard when he hit The City? Organize
Uber rides crosstown without he and comrades splitting fifteen
times along the way—and unity DOA?
Can he dial down meds, locate a coffee shop, deli or diner; sit a
few hours with
Competitors…ORGANIZE—just ONE—unitary, militant Mayday
March of millions in Manhattan—or 12-step off; Admit his power
lessness; and
Pump the brakes on tonight’s post for proletarian revolution? ©
Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet;
BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.
You can Vote for his work at: GoFundMe PayPal: paypal.me/towncrierRNT
As workers across Africa face growing challenges, the leadership of the African Regional Organisation of the International Trade Union Confederation remains crucial in the fight for labor rights and…
A bankrupt liberal class signed on to the Zionist witch hunt against supposed antisemites, refused to condemn Israel for its genocide and in the process gave weapons to its…
The story of Ward Al-Sheikh Khalil is a horrifying reminder of the human cost of Israel’s war on Gaza. As thousands of Palestinian children face death, the world must confront the devastating…
Fighting apartheid in the Dominican Republic is essential to achieving redress for people of African descent in that country.
Independent audit finds patterns of racial, pro-police bias in Maryland’s chief medical examiner’s office.
