Poet Endre Farkas pots & pans poetry

The Kitchen Cutlery Party of Verdun.  May 25, 2012

 

The gathering

The pots 

And pans 

Like church bells 

Tolling 

Calling 

The congregation

To the corner of Wellington 

And de L’Eglise 

To the Church steps 

Of Sept Douleurs 

The protesters, 

Who are

A pain in the ass 

For M. Charest 

and his government. 

 

The gathering

The young

The older

The old

In all shapes 

And ages

Colours 

And sizes

 

On foot

On bikes

By metro 

In prams 

On skateboards 

On crutches

 

 

 

 

 

 

In shorts

In hijabs

Topless 

In flags

In rags

In drag

 

On daddies’ shoulders

In mommies’ bellies

In heart attack chairs. 

 

En francais

In English

In Franglais

In Greek

In Arabic

In the babble of Quebec 

In the battle of Quebec

 

The gathering

The pots

The pans

The ladles

The salad bowls

The woks

The works

Everything but the kitchen sink.

 

The kitchen symphony

The tuning up

The bing bong bang

The cling clong clang

 

The overture 

Simple, 

primal, 

loud. 

The beat grows as the crowd grow 

From a handful to the hundreds 

To the thousands. 

 

And the beat 

And the rhythm

Like a hymn 

Of celebration

Rises to the heavens 

Loud enough 

To wake the gods.

And even the priests 

And the nuns 

Of Sept Douleurs.

 

The rhythm 

And Bill 78 

Calls.

And the people answer. 

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

 

Education libre. 

What a concept!?

Almost as communistic 

As tax breaks for the rich 

As the Plan-Nord giveaways to corporations

As bailouts for the banks.

 

The gathering—

The march 

From the steps of St. Douleurs

Spills onto the street; 

A single cell grows to blocks 

The building blocks of change.

 

And the march 

Through the neighbourhood

Brings out the good in good neighbours

Their pots and pans and cell phones

To spread the sound, to spread the word

To spread the spirit, to spread the image.

 

People in cars honk in support

People on balconies bang pots in support 

People at bus stops applaud in support

People in the Dunkin Donut tap on windows in support

People, people, people in support

 

In spite of what the expert pollsters

In spite of what the talking heads

In spite of what the elite say

The people, the people, the people won’t go away.

 

The rhythm 

And Bill 78 call 

And the people answer 

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

The absence of cops 

As if nobody told them about the party 

As if somebody forgot to invite them

As if they forgot to show up

As if they didn’t want to show up

As if they’d rather be watching hockey

As if they’d rather be having coffee and donuts.

 

 

 

 

In absence of cops 

People are the cops 

Waving and banging pots 

to signal stop 

Waving and banging pots 

to signal go

Until the pot luck 

Of pot bangers pass.  

 

A young boy bangs away

Smiles as wide as the street

Says “Eh, C’est fun,” 

“Yeah,” I say “democracy is fun.”

 

And the march 

Through the neighbourhood

Brings out the good in good neighbours

Their pots and pans and cell phones

To spread the sound, to spread the word

To spread the spirit, to spread the image.

 

The rhythm 

And Bill 78 calls 

And the people answer. 

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Democracy demonstrates

Its independence

By its clanging and clogging the highway

By its colour:  red as the blood of the heart,

How precious it is 

Hip as a square

And it’s everywhere

In the rainbow street.

 

The feet reclaim the streets

Give soul to the asphalt

Give voice to the global village

Give song to the night

Loud enough to wake the dead.

 

 

And the march 

Through the neighbourhood

Brings out the good in good neighbours

Their pots and pans and cell phones

To spread the sound, to spread the word

To spread the spirit, to spread the image.

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

Who needs the buildings

Occupied by overpaid administrators? 

Rectors with golden parachutes? 

The rich Board of Governors 

with chairs for their tax deductible asses? 

 

 

 

 

Who needs

Overcrowded classrooms?

Ill equipped labs?

 

The streets of Quebec are the classrooms

The protestors are the textbooks  

The banners are the blackboards  

The slogans are the poetry classes  

The marches are the phys-ed classes

The pots and pans are the theories of economics classes

The police are the history classes  

Bill 78, the failing grade of the ruling classes.

 

The march, the movement, the spirit

Tonight, the classy, classless class. 

 

Something’s going on 

But you don’t know what it is

Do you Monsieur Charest?

 

Something’s going on 

And we know what it is

Don’t we Monsieur Charest?

 

__

 

Endre Farkas

 

 

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