Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Poetry Slam

As part of my weekend of resistance I also decided to meet my date for duck and then head to the Green Mill for the longest running poetry slam in the city of Chicago. At some point last year when Hellion came to visit we accidentally caught the start of the slam on a Sunday night. This time I was going intentionally.

It was a good idea.

The artists were speaking truth to a power that resonated with everyone in the room. The lyrcism, the dub-step form of speaking that they used to engage us, words as weapons. Words as the sword and battle armor. Words for all occasions to prosecute, pillory and purge  the illegitimacy of the regime currently surrounding us. The words were not kind, but the words were necessary.

As we sat and listened to the beat, the the rhythm of the words that sound as battle drums being struck in the distance. We clapped and chanted along. We engaged. We enraged. We were one in our hopes and fears in the moment. When they come for our words we will find other ways to communicate. We will strive to be the voices of resistance and find ways to communicate.

The regime likes to say there is a movement. They are correct.

They just don't realize who the movement actually involves.

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