DIG Part 2: e.p. thompson's warrens

DIG! DIG DEEP! beneath the bottoms of our feet

we must warren ourselves as the rabbits of the earth

gnawing and gnashing at the roots

wriggling and pushing through the dirt

We can no longer be castrated by that unforgivable malarkey

that all good things come from above,

“Power concedes nothing without a demand… it never did and it never will.”

Our small pockets of resistance must dig and tunnel and burrow

we have to dig and dig and dig till the ground gives way

til the load of what is -- becomes to great for the hollow earth below

til the haughty foundations of society fall in on themselves

til those monuments to the greatness of humankind topple and fall

til our tiny seed sprouts and takes root, punctures the stone

and guts the pavement of flesh and bone

we have to dig to one another

connect our struggles through a network of tunnels

from a birds eye...

a patchwork quilt of crisscrossing radical currents

The interconnectedness of everything

It is in their honor that we dig…

those who hurled themselves on the bayonets of the robber barons caste

those who were dashed to pieces on the reefs and shoals of an intransigent past

in the ground where their tattered bodies finally rest

we will plant our seeds.

we will form the basis for our new world in the still smoldering, burned out carapace of the old.

DIG Part 1: connecting the dots

We have been scattered to the wind as seed sewn to a godless winter

set against each other to compete for a meager life found wanting

driven to madness at a breakneck pace

fighting to keep a foothold, embattled against the cold

while every possible institution and authority tries to beat us down and stamp us out

we isolate ourselves and plot against one another

our egos deny nature while doffing hats to Darwin's central tenets

longing to be together we are forced to be alone 

shuttered in behind locked doors

suffering with dignity

fealty to the status quo

anchored to our our traditions, our guilt, our homes

day dreaming of a world we couldn’t possibly know

a world of freedom, without suffering, a world with genuine community,

a world of equality and harmony with one another and the earth

and without ever missing a beat

a resounding crack shakes us from our momentary stupors

If we had more

or maybe if we had it all

we could transcend this horrible fate

we could take a seat around that lofty table with those who have never wanted or needed anything

so we fence off our homes, (that benign tumor of private property)

and we heap our treasures upward to the sky

stepping upon each other in an endless quest to touch heaven

for all of us struggling to find meaning in this desperate and terrible world

wrestling with the maddening futility of all we have accomplished

we must concede that the machinery of our lives was set in motion long before we were born 

and it can no longer be our aim, to hurl our bodies upon the apparatus to seize and bind it’s gears

but to dig beneath the very foundation itself and erode the ground that bears it’s weight.

DIG.