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                      where

                                              Have

all the poets gone who sung our hidden sex and soul under tight shirt collars and high-heeled shoes?   Where have all the hippies gone who simply placed the flower in the barrel of the gun pointed at us?   Where have all the socialists gone who testified a simple right again before Account and Product?   Where have all the rebels gone who choked on ‘why’ with their blue suede shoes having found – and lost – True Love?   Where have all the philosophers gone who waded – wastedly – across the currents whether there was a bank or not?   Where have all the novelists gone who picked the threads from the tangled ball and wove tapestries that lined our walls?   Where have all the movies gone that landscaped our journeys with the opening credits and close-upped how lost our lives had become?   The artists?   The visionaries?   The innovators?   The seers?

                      they were there during
                      the fin de siècle
                      during the 20s after
                      the War during the
                      30s as it all descended
                      during the 40s as it
                      all depressed during the
                      50s as it got all angry
                      during the 60s as it
                      blossomed during the 70s
                      as it …

… career the relevant universities industry are funding silent cuts the noise image message is USP wallpapered chic over fashion everything lies the agenda word point is question proliferated sound- diffuse bite to really semantic but focus the not idea needed is same blanked product because recession there bail is out ‘nothing…’ thank ‘new…’ you bought the package innovation market is forestalled price for outcome lack led of satisfaction purchase guaranteed

                      and the prophecies are not made
                      anymore because they’ve all
                      come true

                      who owns the word
                      who owns the air
                      who owns thought and speech
                      who owns song and care

                      I certainly don’t but I am aware
                      that somebody does when
                      I reach out and touch
                      and offer there’s always
                      somebody I have to pay usually
                      whole cadres of them

                      … they’re still thinking and
                      painting they’re still writing
                      and seeing they’re still
                      creating and knowing
                      I suppose, but

                      … they’ve all been
                      Had we’ve all been
                      Had where oh where is
                      everyone
                      now?

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

20th century wormhole: warp and weft
capitalism & Have & history wormhole: bargain
film wormhole: ‘to all the film-makers today …’
music & writing wormhole: sit
poetry wormhole: this is not / a poem
samsara wormhole: Confession
society wormhole: angular hardened and defined