deepundergroundpoetry.com
The American Plan
Man I can’t understand
How wack we’ve always been
My kin and brethren think, please
You act like worker suppression began in the 50s 60’s fucking 90’s
Without understanding since Jamestown we’ve been on our knees
Without knowing the history of corporate towns where you drown, in debt.
They’d issue fucking script, go get your whistle wet
At this really fine establishment, which by the way I own
Just like the grocery store, the theater, and all your fucking homes
Which by the way I see you are late making regular payments
I’ll extend a loan with interest, and they say I have no forbaents
Oh and before I send you on your way. It is my duty to inform you that your rent has been raised today.
How much? Just a trifle, two-hundred a month. By the way, here's a minor script to help you pay for lunch.
Fuck that! I can’t stand this man. We must band together.
Unionize! And let’s demand that he pays in legal tender.
Furthermore, let’s explore lowering the price of every fucking blade of grass
So that we can build a life in this fucking promis’d land for you me and my wife.
Hey, what about black, brown and red people? …
…
What about them?
…
Well shouldn’t we include them in this rally? I mean there are a lot of them and they get paid even less. So…
…
Man, shut the fuck up Jimmy! Nobody gives a shit about them niggers, spooks, gooks or in'gins. I ought to whoop your fucking ass for just speaking that nonsense.
…
Yep, yep. Ok, Gary. You’re right of course. Always are.
…
Alright. Now guns. How many we got?
Knock. knock. knock.
Open up. It’s the Pinkerton's.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Over 30 slain. Made a fucking gang.
Holy fuck it’s the national guard rolling over plan.
You’re all under arrest for disturbing the peace. Peace.
How wack we’ve always been
My kin and brethren think, please
You act like worker suppression began in the 50s 60’s fucking 90’s
Without understanding since Jamestown we’ve been on our knees
Without knowing the history of corporate towns where you drown, in debt.
They’d issue fucking script, go get your whistle wet
At this really fine establishment, which by the way I own
Just like the grocery store, the theater, and all your fucking homes
Which by the way I see you are late making regular payments
I’ll extend a loan with interest, and they say I have no forbaents
Oh and before I send you on your way. It is my duty to inform you that your rent has been raised today.
How much? Just a trifle, two-hundred a month. By the way, here's a minor script to help you pay for lunch.
Fuck that! I can’t stand this man. We must band together.
Unionize! And let’s demand that he pays in legal tender.
Furthermore, let’s explore lowering the price of every fucking blade of grass
So that we can build a life in this fucking promis’d land for you me and my wife.
Hey, what about black, brown and red people? …
…
What about them?
…
Well shouldn’t we include them in this rally? I mean there are a lot of them and they get paid even less. So…
…
Man, shut the fuck up Jimmy! Nobody gives a shit about them niggers, spooks, gooks or in'gins. I ought to whoop your fucking ass for just speaking that nonsense.
…
Yep, yep. Ok, Gary. You’re right of course. Always are.
…
Alright. Now guns. How many we got?
Knock. knock. knock.
Open up. It’s the Pinkerton's.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Over 30 slain. Made a fucking gang.
Holy fuck it’s the national guard rolling over plan.
You’re all under arrest for disturbing the peace. Peace.
Published 4th Feb 2022
Author's Note
This is an historical re-imagining of worker insurrections across the Americas, primarily taking place before WWII. I chose to use racist language in this poem to viscerally express the paradox and privilege between white workers and the workers of color. This poem is called The American Plan to bring attention to union suppression and the scheme that American oligarchs used to brand unionization as un-American in the mind of the American people. 30 dead is a nod to the miner insurrections in WV. Not all company towns were the same. There were many differences, but only one variable. Those variable were the oligarchs who ran the town. Some didn't allow drinking or dancing. Some mandated that residents only participate in square dancing. Company towns persist to this day.
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