bad eggs and ham
bad eggs and ham
by Jen B.
18-21
itty bitty piggies
march into markets
pigs washed in pink
but they’re blue, and they flaunt it.
where are the pigs
for the lives that matter?
for toronto’s village?
for drag balls’ batters?
pigs have teeth
for the sake of a state
and its grip on the peoples
crushed by the weight
of histories drenched
in blood, blood, blood.
our families in the fight
still struggle in the flood.
why let pigs
run amok in our temples?
ancient desecration
in modern assembles.
am i a bad egg
cause i don’t want pork
served silver spooned,
red knifed, rainbow forked?
this hog is rotting
lords of the flies
buzzing about
drowning out cries
of resistance, truth,
dignity, freedom.
pigs could invert
carrie’s prom queendom;
piggies in crowns
and human-blood gowns
wave to the crowd
as they burn all around.
am i a bad egg
cause i don’t want ham
shoved down our throats
like battering rams?
do you want applause
for hogs in drag wigs
like nothing’s amiss?
as if there aren’t pigs
on wet’suwet’en lands
mounting raids?
have you forgotten
why mounties were made?
have you forgotten
our siblings, sisters, brothers?
or the bricks thrown
by our gay foremothers?
when pigs kicked down
stonewall’s door
our people rallied under:
‘TAKE IT NO MORE!’
shout it out hoarse
until all are free
just like sylvia
on christopher street ’73,
for the people,
the people,
the people:
“The people that are trying to do something
for all of us,
and not men and women
that belong to a white middle class club!
And that’s what you all belong to!
Revolution now!
Gay… gay power.
Louder, gay power!”
gay power,
gay power,
gays crumbled to powder.
gays on the streets,
gays locked in towers.
gays in the ground,
or spread about as ash;
we are still fighting,
the storm has not passed.
we are the riot,
we need no gear.
there is no pride
when innocents fear.
i’ve had my fill
of ham, ham, ham;
i utterly loathe it,
pride-i-am.
if we’re bad eggs
then we’ll bring the sulfur;
we won’t stand idle
while others suffer.
we will not crack
for any egg poacher;
we’re hungry for justice
and justice is kosher.
