Tuur Verheyde
2020: March to June
Updated: Jul 16, 2021
I have been waiting for Yesod
To lower its ladder,
Whilst living in box land,
In bag land
In the patient post-move shuffle,
Ever waiting, ever working
Bit by bit to make a house a home.
In other news:
The Garbage Fire Godhead
Goads us into further worship, further fighting.
Some people are fighting
For their right not to die
For their right not to starve,
For their right not to lose
Everything whenever illness
Pulls their leg,
For their right not to be murdered by the police
For their right not to get Covid19,
Because their lives are seen
As less valuable
Than the pleasures of the privileged
Their perpetual profits
And careless comfort.
Some people
Who police the periphery of their comfort zone
With state violence and media smears,
They fight to uphold a passionless politics
One of performance and politeness over policy,
One of middle roads and equal sides,
A politics where they don’t have to change,
They don’t have learn, they don’t have to care
A politics that doesn’t hamper them while they hoard,
(Something only the privileged can afford.)
The warmest winter in records
With Australia still smouldering.
(Summer winks with its salacious smirk)
Covid continually claims lives and livelihoods.
The bigots are building walls
And getting ready to rain fire.
The wealthy are warming their bunker beds—
No tech daddy is going to save you,
Not with these margins (making money off your misery)!
Imagine what kind of humanity
It takes, with these kind of stakes (life or death for many millions)
To stand between the divide
Of predators and their prey
And say:
“ These two are the same.
My fight is with those who fight to change
My privilege not to choose a side and
Remain cosy and uncaring.”