music comes to tie people together,
so why are there CDS, headphones,
what distant love or drug is this
do i really want to make a drug
for lonely souls sipping soundwine
drifting in a pocket of someone elses voice
they can’t touch

or music is me, and that me i want to be missing
for now, as far as egoless as far as my i’s crop up
but can i give me even, through a buzzing eardrum
a distant sound i’ll never hear the echo from

music as education as keys as loosening of the noose
how much education though can you encode
in those 2 minute pop songs
enough, apparently, if education was the idea
like guerilla radio, with their how-to-build a Mazeltov Cocktail
lyrics to their rock and roll

how much did bob marley accomplish
we got up, stood up indeed, but then
had no idea of where to go.

radio is sedation anyway anything you
could say to let the kids out of the cages
would be zero-charted, we’re calm, agressively calm
and manufactured, even the most pure gutbloodbrain
emotion gets fashion-ized
thats why you
have to stop looking it in the face

when the castle is gaurded
start looking down, not up
the ground you stand on
is fertile
and what’s inside that castle,
what those walls protect,
that’s never going to be as good
as what you make

music then, has got to be all folk
music, as in human being music
as in not for your suits or your wallets
but for your lives

folk as in spontaneous song
love, making your poems spin out
in mad bird riddems
for you to connect, not disconnect
find shared languages across cultures
find dances with less-strangers
music is touch

we’re getting closer,
music potential, potency,
unencumbered by the nessecity of commercial motivation
music that dances on the paint-bucket drums OUTSIDE the club
music that is just-made-up wet ink poems on the swinging arms of mad dancers
it’s smaller and realer
it’s an alleyway with a rusted speaker and a lidless cdplayer
it’s bagpipes in parking garages
kids slipping their own albums into commercial music stores
kids pawning their tunes outside virgin mega store with their own headphones for listening samples
it’s a parade, streetcenter, of un-liscenced kids, defeating an army of cartraffic with their homemade horns
and tin can drum banging.
music is poem-cds taped to streetlamps
for adventurous ears

this, this is love music
and smaller, out of the grip of publishing
with 8 tracks and cd burners and computer composing software
and styrofoam guitars, handwritten sheet music on recipt paper
this is where change comes in
if we want it
this is singing guerilla style too
amongst the love-music
this is how to grow your own food
how to create your own lifestyle
questions to create your own culture
you get the basics, the backbone to survival,
food and shelter and community
after that
the world is yours


I run

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