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    The Role of the Revolutionary Poet in Society and a Strategic Vision for the 21st Century
    The Role of the Revolutionary Poet in Society and a Strategic Vision for the 21st Century
    The Role of the Revolutionary Poet in Society and a Strategic Vision for the 21st Century
    Ebook105 pages1 hour

    The Role of the Revolutionary Poet in Society and a Strategic Vision for the 21st Century

    By Mark Lipman

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    About this ebook

    Literary Nonfiction. Poetry. Social Studies. Political Studies.

     

    What does the future have in store? What are the possibilities to create a system that places the needs and interests of people over those of the corporations? What is the strategic vision for a People's Economy and most importantly, how do we get there? How do the poets fit into all of this? These are just a few of the questions we examine in this new groundbreaking work by revolutionary poet, Mark Lipman.

     

    "Mark Lipman's beautiful prose and rhythmic writing style captures the reader in a pronounced radical fashion; he does not hold back in using the love language of revolutionists, offering past and present problems with capitalism in the age of Covid-19…. His notations of identity are precise, as the white, black, brown, Asian, and indigenousness working class must be fully unified in grasping their intersectional identities, in order for them to achieve an understanding of themselves as wholly marginalized peoples who often are comprised of multiple identities: LGBTQ, people of color, women, etc.…. This work does that. A must read for the poet, working class, academic, and activist."

     

    ~ Edward Carson

    Greater Boston Activist

    Dean of Multicultural Education, The Governor's Academy

     

    "Mark Lipman is a national treasure," ~ Dr. Cornel West

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherVagabond
    Release dateAug 15, 2020
    ISBN9781393000310
    The Role of the Revolutionary Poet in Society and a Strategic Vision for the 21st Century

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      Book preview

      The Role of the Revolutionary Poet in Society and a Strategic Vision for the 21st Century - Mark Lipman

      And so it begins...

      The jet planes flew over today in a synchronized rhythm; one after another... the rich were making their escape.

      The rest of us were ordered to shelter in place – they say two weeks, but really they mean for the foreseeable future. We are never safer than we are right now and that’s diminishing exponentially.

      Another private jet passes over, maybe off to the bunker – one of those silos in the desert – no place we are told is safe, except perhaps for the wilderness – and the window is closing upon us very quickly. Now is the moment to go, if you’re going to go, if it’s not already too late... all the while I can still hear the jet engines overhead, only slightly obscured by the sound of the gardener trimming the neighbor’s hedge.

      The appearances of normal must be maintained – even during quarantine.

      But there’s no going back to normal – everyone realizes that by now – though we’re still at the stage of denial.

      There are no tests available... and even if there were, from what they tell us on television, that doesn’t mean you can’t catch it the very next day. So we’re all just a fourteen day incubation period away from knowing if anyone of us is next.

      And right on cue, another millionaire makes his escape.

      The bravest of us – those helping everyone get through are grocery workers, as they single handedly navigate us through panic buying and empty shelves, while maintaining a bedside manner that’d make Florence Nightingale jealous, yet somehow they still don’t even merit a living wage.

      Then again this is only week one – only day one of the lockdown order. So far there are a lot of orders coming down in rapid succession. It’s hard to know what to do other than just stay home and that’s the moment you start asking yourself, How well do you trust the government?

      It’s only a matter of time before there are soldiers on the street corners. Massachusetts called out the National Guard today and the way things are moving California may not be too far behind.

      I should call my mother, but I’m holding off on that – nothing feels more final in these moments than calling home with everything so uncertain.

      In the corner sits my empty jump bag. I think about it as the engine above hums louder then dissipates into the distance. Soon there will be nothing but silence.

      There’s no way out now anyway – even if I wanted, with no wheels and no wings walking out of Los Angeles is a non-starter... besides, I signed up for this, to stay behind – if for nothing else, so that the survivors would know what happened.

      Italy was my back up – vote and leave – that was the plan, but poets are poor and things don’t always go according to plan.

      Today, another 793 people died there – yesterday 627 – that’s just in two days, and here in the U.S. we haven’t even reached our peak yet – most people still feel good, with a lot of forced time off from work, so they all go outside walking up and down the same sidewalks, gathering in parks and the beach at not even remotely safe distances – from what we’re told is safe – but hell, we’re all breathing the same air, what really is a safe distance anyway?

      Meanwhile, over at the Department of Justice, William Barr – yeah, the same one who just two weeks ago they were talking of disbarring and forcing to resign over using his position as Attorney General for political favors – is asking Congress to suspend the Constitution during the emergency, so that he can end trials and hold people indefinitely.

      This is so close to the fascist takeover we’ve been dreading – just a handful of decrees away and it’s over. People don’t even realize how terribly close to danger they’re in. Instead they’re clinging to the last gasp of whatever normal is to them... clinically speaking as a denial mechanism triggered by what is obviously deep psychological trauma, rooted in the fear of catching this contagion.

      We knew this was the year when it was going to happen – that something dramatic and life changing was going to happen – if anyone knew, we knew, those of us who were keeping our eyes open knew that we had to vote in the primary then get out of the country, but that didn’t happen and now here we are.

      Now, nowhere is safe. There’s nowhere to go, no direction on the map and we’re sitting in the epicenter of what is one earthquake away from becoming a total humanitarian disaster.

      And so we carry on with as many little activities as we can to keep us going, yet we all know somewhere deep inside that nothing will ever be the same again.

      Talked to my mother today... it’s her birthday so good timing... she tells me that she’s now 69 years and 36 months... she refuses to turn 70 and counts everything beyond 69 in months. Well, maybe she’s on to something. Right now, we’re all counting our lives in two week increments... always starting at the point of now.

      My entire life, revolution has always been just two weeks away – that’s how it’s always felt – but now we’re all just living with the hopes that we just make it through another two weeks without getting sick and dying.

      Worse is that there are no tests available. Our healthcare system – after so many decades of being gutted for profits was – is – just completely unprepared – and right now, at this very moment, they’re trying to see just how many trillions of dollars they can steal from the treasury during a national and global emergency. How many times are they going to run the same playbook before people open their eyes? Right now, it’s all just waiting to see how bad it’s going to get....

      They came to get someone today. The first thing you notice is the bleep – sounds like a police cruiser nearby. A couple more bleeps and rolling to a stop somewhere just outside these walls and now we’re all up at attention, listening for every noise, as we reach for the light switch. If they don’t see a light, maybe they won’t look over here.

      Out on the street, three SUV cruisers block a road that’s already dark and quiet. I peer out, through the hedge, over their flashing reds, hoping to go unnoticed as another head pops up from behind the shutters guarding the kitchen window. Then I see the paramedics, the fire department’s ambulance across the street – at the house on the corner. This is the moment it becomes real... when it hits close to home.

      Everything is moving quickly now, as days turn into weeks and weeks... yes, it has been a month and no end in sight – masks and gloves are required now and you get fined a thousand dollars if you go to the beach. They say don’t go out this week – it’s crucial... and I was waiting two

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