Paris is burning.
Four weeks, the fire spreads.
Violence erupts, gas billows red,
horns and lights, cacophony rings.
Buildings burn, cars smolder, ablaze,
the shoppes, vandalized and looted.
The police have removed their helmets
as the people attempt to remove their leaders;
they’d remove their heads as a testament
The students are stepping out.
The protests spread wide.
Across several cities,
blood stains the streets.
Rebellion and aggression,
opposite energy on the same
spectrum of hate, fear inspires
some to act without question.
Waves of individuals
destroy property, attack
tens and tens of thousands
wage war on modern imperialism,
a cloak of socialism and fascism:
The flags of nationalism wave.
They are a marking in time,
a memory in the body politic.
Black vests versus yellow jackets.
Bombs become explosions.
Violence among people,
difference from the media,
the events left unknown
to the ignorant world.
A living relic of their history,
the French will not just eat cake.
They will hurl it at their master.
They will remove the political cancer,
the head of the wart that sprouts on their body.
The fire will spread, no centralized location.
The fuel, a sparking fire for the love of culture,
country, and people, will trump the selfish
Freedom will ring
as the root is weeded out,
the debt slaves’ shackles removed,
the secrets of history shattered.
A depth of knowledge remembered,
a spirit of unity rekindled,
respect to fires of the soul,
the flame of truth, the world spreads over.
“Perennial Revolution” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.
“Perennial Revolution” is an Ekphrastic poem modeled after world events: coverage and analysis of the France, Yellow Jacket Riots. Interesting enough, the original title of this poem was “Paris is Burning,” and was written during week four of the riots, but I wasn’t pleased with the draft. To that end, I fell back on the sonnet to relay the idea I sought to portray, as all the sonnets do so far in The Root of Many Returns. But “Paris is Burning” the sonnet was written in week fifteen of the riots (that’s right! Fifteen weeks, and I still haven’t heard anything from local or national news that covers what’s going on! Insane!). So the title, “Perennial Revolution” came from inside the poem itself, in an earlier draft. The one shared with you today, is rough, but it’s much better than it was. I don’t dabble too much in the body politic in my works of poetry and writing, but in poetry, it definitely has a place. I hope you enjoyed.