Performance Garbage Poetry

[Music]

garbage

speaks to me through poems it allows me

to reflect

not just on what i buy recycle trash but

also allows me to make sense of waste it

allows me to understand

why do we feel repulsed why do we resist

why do we refuse why is my clean not

your clean

why is garbage cloaked in a layer of

anonymity

and invisibility why we see what we want

to see

it also allows me to look at the city’s

landscape and our relationship

we have with waste and people who work

in waste

my poems don’t have a structure my

thoughts do hold on its own

while everyone takes action in their own

setting or context

poetry for me has a promise for engaging

in citizen activism

so here’s one of my poems plastics

the wonder product innovative and

versatile

with the perfect voice and purpose that

can be transformed

moulded extruded fitted fabricated

fashioned engineered pressed

plastics the wonder product is all

around

it is everywhere making it indispensable

in the name of hygiene durability

longevity safety and ease of use

plastics the wonder product is suddenly

morphing

showing its ugly site instigating

provoking blowing with the wind bouncing

flying happy and high disfiguring the

landscape

a graveyard of unmet promises

plastics the wonder product is suddenly

morphing

showing its ugly side instigating

provoking plastics the wonder product

is caught in a rushing stream swimming

swirling coiling twisting

depicting its ugly side distressing

lakes reverse

oceans plastics

the wonder product suspended in water

swarms of pieces bottles bags

floating fouling clogging confusing

burning poisoning choking strangling

endangering plastics

the wonder product is teasing testing

taunting plastics

the wonder product is suddenly morphing

have you stopped to take notice

so here’s my next poem

i want you i’m demanding

i can complete you i’ll make your life

easier

i’ll make your life simpler i want you

i’m attractive i’m an addiction i will

overpower you i will give you instant

gratification you warned me

now i’m a victim to your abuse

you are choking me and my relationships

i feel like i have cinder blocks pulling

down you want me you love to hurt me

in subtle ways you can never really go

away

for you are in me and all the things

i wear eat drink play turn on sleep and

use

oh plastic you were toxic yet so

attractive

or plastic i underestimated you

you are keeping me hostage in the name

of convenience

your love is ruthless but i am done

this is it i am breaking free

in my own way i will go against the tide

one day at a time one thing at a time

a bag a cup a bottle a straw

or plastic i’m breaking free

this poem is a tribute to the countless

waste pickers in india

as someone who works in the space of

community media

and the informal waste workers this poem

stems from the urge to call attention to

the waste picking community in the

country

so what if i’m a waste picker on the

never ending road when no one walks

so what if i’m a waste picker walking on

the cold street lonesome yet proud

so what if i’m a waste picker i’m the

one treading my own path

reaching out for the scrap so carelessly

tossed out

so what if i’m a waste picker with

bruised hands

hoarded tears paint silences vacant

thoughts and fatigued feet

i’m the one lifting stirring sorting

picking cleaning grading and changing

so what if i’m the waste picker i rise

with every fall

i rise with every obstacle i rise

through your dominance i rise through

your ignorance

i rise through your caste-based

hypocrisy and discrimination

i rise through the depths of a hollow

marriage of the system

i rise through the myopic vision of the

authorities calling shots on the city’s

waste management

i rise through the names you call me

i rise the mixed waste you throw out

i rise with every spent energies and

rigid stances

i strive i soar i push i rise for i have

a voice i have a name

i am who i am i am the waste picker

charting new frontiers

to conclude our session i’m going to

leave you with a poem

what if your trash could talk from the

worn out sneakers that ran marathon

to the tubes that held lavender-infused

body wash

from the empty bottles of beverage that

tell tales of midnight woes

to the printer that wouldn’t print any