Monday, November 15, 2010

Nicholas Whitaker’s 5 Words


He’s outside the bodega:

“You’re a slave to money,

then you die.”

We’ve on lived on the line between

denial and actualization for decades now.


He’s outside the subway:

“You’re a slave to the symphony of

trying to make ends meet.”

The melody the mind builds,

the songs of propaganda

in our ears

—whispers to screams—

all day.

All night.


He’s outside the restaurant:

“You’re a slave to your cravings,

always with a full plate.”

Hors d’oeuvres galore—

clothes then cars

turning into endless collateral.

We’re purging the preponderance

of debt and going back

for seconds.


He’s outside the White House:

“You’re a slave to the hegemony

in charge of your false hopes.”

Buy Low, Sell High—

War on Terror

Freedom Fries

American Built


Bail Outs

American Express

There’s no way to break



He’s knocking on your door:

“You should be a slave to enlightenment

but your eyes have adjusted to the darkness.”

We’re talking about

transforming a thought,

altering an action.

We’re talking about

the realization of individualization,

the recreation of appreciation.

"We're talking about

sparing some change.”