Suicide Revolution
by h. Gibrain
At my first suiciding
I wanted to show my comrades
that death is a fine art
nothing to be wasted
noting to be scattered in the wind
I set up a white canvas
to catch the Rorschach Pollock
of my body spatter
that life is not static
and my body in motion
when I ignite
in dervish
my skirt splayed open
flowering umbel
my arms alight
my particulate nature
on display
like food wiped from the face
of the privileged obese obtuse
that life should be lived
not for love
not in fear
but in the name of art
and in the art of death
when you release that button
the harrowing screams
shattering bones
splattering fluids of babies bodies
the village animals
and a little ahway al araby
mingle in flight
a soup of sorts
simmering in free space
painting your face
with the food
that was other peoples lives
to put on display
the relationship between
love of art
art of life
the living death of stolen moments
razed lands of decimated cultures
once upon a time surviving on
bear invocations of rain igniting crop
crow mythos of the wonkum mikitchia
darkening the horizon
for centuries
cleansing the terrestrial palette
for the next sun child
and the age of Aquarius
dreams of deer
that make all plants flower
all wind blow
give essence to gravity
manipulate tides
and ultimately
determine my scatter plot fantasy
of exploding in the sky
and drizzling the mist of my life
a condiment on your sloven plate
that you could taste the disaster
and wait for god in her serviette chariot
to dab the corners of your face
well
there is food in death
and death is art
too many people screaming about injustice
when maybe
we should be eating more of the dead
imbibing the blood drenched tales
of death’s survival in the midst of thriving lives
and how our children can lead
the suicide revolution
where each each city block is a canvas
where the ultimate expression of love and art
unite in blood and body part graffiti grafted
into murals
telling stories
of futile resistance
in the world of
racism writ large
the ultimate liberation comes
not from fighting
but from loving
and letting go
of the skin which keeps apart