We

The political struggle is also the struggle for the appropriation of words.

Jacques Rancière

We are decent. We love our country

and our liberty. We earn a living

off the profits of thingifying nature

for rich trading partners who pay us

with the blood of terrorised workers. We hear

the chitchat between the puppets

of capital (Prime Minister & Opp. Leader)

and give our consent to their triviality

via free and fair elections. We dream

of feeling happiness as psyches rejoice

at buying iPads and designer socks, a life

finally expiating its futility

with a 2% pay rise. We purr

when coddled in the arms of a community

founded on culture and religion, hiding

hatred behind the mask of heritage. We

are really as pathetic as that? I wake

up early (or surrender to my insomnia)

to daydream about another we: the people

flummoxed by so much fantasy, struggle

and wander toward the truth of an Event

after the idea of equality, for a humanity

that won’t be conditioned by a pronoun

when we are the name of the immeasurable

power to rupture the reality of the world

and instigate new worlds, the traces of eternity.