Swift Winds

Too many
Movement philosophers,
not enough
moving philosophy.
The curse of
Movements
without
movement.

Politicos
make a motion,
fake e-motion.
We need more
Loco-motion.
Ideas
dancing
furiously
in the heat
of resistance.

Fire
in the belly.
Honey
in the pot.
The physicality
of seduction
embracing
the philosophy
of deconstruction
in the streets.

Revealing
not
correct lines
but
fault lines.
Life’s
a fine line
between
being
kept in line
and
being
unrefined
unruled
sublime.

Free
as a kite
to rise
swirl
twist
jump
twirl
and
unfurl.
Riding the currents
of revolt,
now independently,
now flowing together
in
mutuality.

We are
Autonomous
Improvising
Individuals
Intersecting
In
Movement.
Our lives
illuminated by
lines of flight
spontaneous formations,
alchemical distillations,
insurrectionary confrontations,
subversive vibrations,
all intertwined.

Laughing
madly
we soar
unconfined,
wings beating wildly,
fanning the flames
of refusal,
leaving
the armchair
behind,
flying above
the traplines
set by
sedentary minds,
dreaming
of
swift winds.


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