Through The Datevine

Image by: S n o R k e l

 

Taste Culture is delighted to have spoken word artist and poet, Tina Fish grace us with her latest work: Through the Datevine.

 

Tell me…tell me…

There is no symmetry to this.

The world explodes in atomic trysts,

And we meet, halfway,

but blindsided by the everyday,

by the byway and my way

we cruise down highways of ever after

using premeditated fits of laughter

just anything to break over the clamor

of life droned on…

 

We’ve always felt it.

We’ve always known there’s something wrong.

We’ve always sensed it…

That energies are not where they belong,

that we’ve capitalized on this sensation of wrong,

that we’ve mechanized the workings of a true rebel

industrialized it to resemble everyone else.

 

The technique is immaculate…just like the conception,

except that we’ve innovated to inception,

using words like “protection” against “corruption”

using words like “inflation” with solutions of “sustainability.”

 

Tell me…tell me…

 

And then we threw our poets to the sea…

Where they scrambled onto Emirati shores

and scrambled back up like two-word whores

ready to give you loving long time.

 

“A dollar for a line?

I can make your idea sell big time!

Only your idea’s gotta be worth my time,

and my money, and I don’t take that much,

(Just what I can get begging)”

And now watch the focus shift…

Oh shit…have I lost my audience?

Would you rather stay in this blissful state,

here where you can see the cards from far away,

but never go all in or raise the stakes,

(coz you gotta get that steak on the table)

and why should I go through the trouble

if no one else will?

 

And we feel so special,

Because we read and studied that bill,

we know who it’s gonna kill and we know it’s wrong,

But who will change it?

 

Tell me…tell me…

 

And we remain stagnant with our compliant faces,

satisfied with our statuses,

feeling sorry for other races,

but nonetheless, tolerant.

 

Yes please let’s create a culture of tolerance.

But oh wait, when did we start thinking we were best?

 

“Point noted and debunked,

We wanna flaunt what we got,

(coz we ain’t got all that much)

So watch as my buildings tower tall

and we promote you all to marketing whores,

selling God only knows to who,

what, why, where, and how,

and bow to the paycheck.”

 

Umm…they’re not tolerant because you’re black.

They’re not tolerant because you smoke weed,

or you’re yellow, or you like to kiss that or if you

got a brain that lacks.

 

They’re tolerant because you don’t talk back.

 

And “they” doesn’t matter,

because it reflects with tact,

to our one on one relationshits

and anything like that…

Don’t talk back.

 

Tell me…tell me…

 

Meaning is twisted you see?

I’m not the author,

it doesn’t matter what this text means to me,

all that matters are the interpretations you’d like to see,

And I’ve seen so many,

from sexual allusions in Bugs Bunny to how

Madonna and Lady Gaga prove the antichrist is here…

 

Shit man I see the antichrist in my beer!

Because too many of those can leave me one-eyed, looking at the world through blurry eyes

that makes it look just fine,

in fact, it looks better than sober,

(in fact, only when drunk can I understand

the concept of paganism behind a four-leaf clover).

 

Tell me…tell me…

I walk through these khaleeji lands,

where no one has an answer at hand…

(Sorry, the answer’s banned).

Censored answers from another land,

and those answers don’t make much sense either…

but search and stumble,

google and blog her, or block him,

then let them all in!

(And worry you’re being watched)

then a call for TRANSPARENCY.

 

TELL ME! TELL ME!

 

Tell you what? And why?

We’ve photoshop-ed truth into a lie,

can you see the difference in that thin line?

You dropped your attention after “I’m fine.”

 

But TELL ME! TELL ME!

“Can’t you hear us begging for more?

We don’t even bother begging behind closed doors,

pouncing on worms that peak out of black holes,

look world, I’m on all fours, just tell me! Tell me!”

 

I’ll tell you one thing.

I’ve heard there’s a pimp waiting at the door,

So collect what your owed and tally up the score…

Because evidently,

Not everyone can go there.

 

I know, this was amazing so go ahead and share it!

Featured image by: Jarod Carruthers