An Exquisite Corpse on The Oppression of the Body

written by the company of The Living Theatre

and the People of Art Klub, New Orleans

during the Know Your Rites Tour, August 2016

THE OPPRESSION OF THE BODY

IS TEMPORARY, REMEMBER?

Everything must change

the young become the old

oh it hurts but wisdom creeps in

DONT FORGET

What was once a shining child has become an illumited adult.

To acknowledge the cracks is the only way to allow the light to

seep in. We cannot be confrid to this chrysalis. emerge.

WE WERE SWEATING THOUGH OUR GOOSEBUMPS

Life

Creation

The Holy Spirit

Woman

The King Power

ARE WE DONE YET?

ARE THEY DONE YET?

ARE YOU DONE YET?

At times my body has not been my own

It has been a planet of salted wounds. It has been a target, a wrung out towel

The work is healing the body. The body is sacred power. Each cell - a god.

I levitate above your menacing grip.

I AM MEANT TO GROW LIKE THE TREE;

TO BLOOM LIKE THE FLOWER, TO UNFOLD LIKE

THE LAYERS OF A FRUIT. YOU SUPRESS MY

ENERGY UNTIL EMPLODE ON MYSELF.

Only to replenish my own soul & grow Again.

The profit motive is killing me

WE ARE LED TO BELIVE WE MUST ADD CHANGE

TO AWARE SELEVS AS IF WE ARE NOT ENOUGH

CHACING AN IMAGE THAT IS NOT HUMAN. HIDE AWARE

TRU SELF. IT IS A VISSIOS TAKTIC TO KEEP UP OPPRESSED

LOOKING FOR COMPLETION OUT SIDE OF AWARE SELVES

WEN IN FACT WE HAVE AND ARE ALL WE NEED IN US

AWARE BEAUTY IS AWARE “IMPERFECTION” WHAT WE ARE TOLD TO HIDE

AWARE DIFRANCES WHAT MAKE US BEAUTIFUL. WE ARE ALL SO BEAUTIFUL.

AWARE BODY IS AWARE TEMPLE. LOVE YOURSELF THIS IS WHERE

THE TRU REVOLUTION BEGINS.

The body is not the words you use

to define, categorize, and scrutinize

The body is a portal

The body is poisoned, controlled, policed

but the body is not the entirety of the self.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” the wide-eyes child asks,

her mother looking away, embarrassed.

“Not really one or the other” I reply and the

child, not yet totally indoctrinated, simply says, “Oh!”

I dress the body. I use the body. I dance, I love,

I feel pleasure & I seek an existence beyond the body

beyond the definitions placed upon me, your words

are chains, I am free, I am dreaming & I am awake,

I am on fire & I am softly falling ashes like snow,

my body dissolves & what is left is the empty

androgyny of the sacred, subtle self

Perhaps if I were blind, I would find

new means of expressing my self.

Expression of self and the very notion of self.

Perhaps if I had no fingerprints. Or fingers.

We are beautiful concepts executed (in both

meaning of the word) by the flesh and

executed by the flesh.

But perhaps...