11/28/02

That goddamn weed of life,
Green, yellow, purple,

cracking through the blacktop
in the park.
We don’t own it.
We own all life.
All life is our property…
Except weeds!

After the riots,
We put all living greens,
All living color,
Behind tall black iron fences.
Lovers, babies can’t lay on the grass,
No dreamers stretched out in fresh smells,
Looking up into the fluffy clouds of possibilities
Ever changing.

All of that was too dangerous.
Now we separate flesh
From life colors.
Now, walk or roll on blacktop,
Squint thru black bars
At grass, trees, flowers…
All at a safe distance…
Sit straight up on benches
With hard arms of separation,
Preventing love-making,
Sleeping…
Showing any tender pleasure.

All of that
Is kept in a safe distance
In the past
In this zoo,
In this gas chamber
Of a park…

All at a safe distance
Under control
Under lock and key…
Except for this goddamn weed of life
RIGHT THERE!
We sprayed it with poison,
Ripped it out,
Crushed it…
But it keeps coming back!

Doesn’t it know?
We own all life now.
It’s our personal property now.
We own the building blocks,
The dna keys of life…
Under our patents and copyrights.
We own the water.
We own the seeds.
We own the monopoly on life,
Hijacking evolution itself
Into the goal of profit.
We who sit in first class,
In box seats,
Behind oak doors,
Not to be seen.

WEEDS! WEEDS! WEEDS!
80 percent of all humans,
and of all life
are useless weeds,
to be ultimately destroyed
by all means necessary…
and in the meantime
to be contained within warehouses,
keep them moving from warehouse
to warehouse,
nomads without space
on blacktop
without water wells,
rain barrels,
farms of independence,
or music of a free soul.

We own the rights to all imagination
And dreams.
We hold all the cards!

So why is this goddamn weed
Cracking the blacktop?!
How come this single weed
is spreading unprocessed life
all around?

And the cracks
In the blacktop
Are spreading!

 

John The Baker reads “That Goddamn Weed Of Life” on Frank Moore’s Shaman’s Den, March 25, 2007.