Self Evident
A poem by Ani Difranco
Listen to Self Evident at http://www.righteousbabe.com/ani/l_self_evident.asp
Self Evident is a commemoration to the people who died on September 11th but is more a politically charged, venomous attack on the American government and their involvement with matters that are really none of their concern. I first heard this poem four years ago when my media teacher recommended it to me and ever since I have been inspired to create something with as much passion and energy of that which is expressed in this poem.
Ani Difranco is a poet, singer/songwriter, musician and owner of her own record label, Righteous Babe Records. She is known for her politically charged music, a feminist icon and an advocate for racial awareness and women’s rights. Her music, which is characterised by rapid finger picking and speaking in rhythmic variations rather than singing, is essentially a mixture of folk and beat poetry. Difranco works with words, often using alliteration, metaphor and word play to get across her message.
Self Evident is essentially written in a reaction to September 11th, however Difranco brings up a range of significant issues in this angered poem. The poem, even though it is respectful of the dead, is highly critical of how American history has caused the attacks and exploited this awful event, “On the day that America fell to its knees, after strutting around for a century without saying thank you or please.”
In parts it may seem that Difranco is insensitive to this terrible event, “can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design, following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline,” but this sharpness is what makes Difranco’s poem so powerful, Difranco is almost saying, ‘look how ridiculous this situation is, look what kind of country we live in.’
In this poem Difranco uses metaphor continuously, she compares people to poems and uses the imagery of alcohol to articulate her attack on the American government, ‘toasting’ to the victims of past U.S aggression, “here’s a toast to all the folks who live in Palestine, Afghanistan, Iraq, El Salvador,” she also goes on to toast Native Americans, abortion nurses and prisoners on death row.
Difranco uses this poem as a vehicle to announce her political woes, including environmental issues, “shoo away the swarms of commuter planes and find that train ticket we lost.”
The poem is extremely anti Bush, with Difranco claiming, “we hold these truths to be self evident, number 1: George W Bush is not president, number 2: America is not a true democracy and number 3: the media is not fooling me,” and, “take away our playstations and we are a third world nation under the thumb of some blue blood royal son who stole the oval office and that phoney election.”
In this poem Difranco calls for the end of the ‘American Empire’ and pleas for it to consider the needs of its own people (which it seems incapable of), before interfering with other countries, “so it’s time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets ad clean the air. Get the government to pull its big dick out of someone else’s desert, put it back in its pants. And quite the hypocritical chants of Freedom Forever.”
The reason I find this poem so effective is the way in which Ani Difranco has expressed the events of September 11th, the state of the American government and its involvement with other countries, in an extremely intelligent yet venomous manner. Difranco has managed to articulate what many of us are thinking with a poem that speaks in rapid urgency, which can be compared only to that of Gil Scot Heron’s famous beat poem, ‘The Revolution Will Not be Televised.” By using occasional rhyme and building a continuous sense of energy, this poem is full of anger and frustration, however this does not distract from the overall message. This is not a rant.
This is one of the most powerful pieces of poetry I have ever experienced and I encourage you to listen to it. I say listen because this way you can truly feel the frustration Difranco feels as she spits through this highly political and extremely relevant piece of art.
Self Evident
yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its indian summer breeze
on the day that america
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please
and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky
and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything i've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and i'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every tv
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour
so here's a toast to all the folks who live in palestine
afghanistan
iraq
el salvador
here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore
here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman's voice
here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream
cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
i mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
jeb said he'd deliver florida, folks
and boy did he ever
and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 george w. bush is not president
#2 america is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz i am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
i've got no room for a lie so verbose
i'm looking out over my whole human family
and i'm raising my glass in a toast
here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
i dream of touring like duke ellington
in my own railroad car
i dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face
give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever
cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall
and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?
can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the new york skyline?!
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
should be more than pawns
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train
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