“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
"We cannot go through decades of this physical and psychological abuse behind these walls and think We are coming home undamaged, without scars," explains New African political prisoner Shaka Shakur.
Violence against Haitians and Haitian descended people continues in the Dominican Republic. The Socialist Movement of Workers of the Dominican Republic condemn the latest state sanctioned…
COINTELPRO never ended. The FBI still pays informants to disrupt, to target organizers, and to spy on the movement.
Black people must differentiate between pride in self and their ancestors and any attempt to forge connections with the nation that continues to oppress.
State affiliated think tanks often shape foreign policy in Washington.
