Drums of Taksim

I went to Istanbul and this is what I saw: A game of revolutionary chess, Thousands of cell phones watching every move, The rock thrower, the screamer, The Halloween mask, the flag-waver, The slogan on the wall spray-painter, The woman having a nervous breakdown. The exhilaration of common cause, The effervescence of chaos, Thousands upon thousands of Turkish faces Drunk on freedom and adrenaline And lots and lots of cats. I went to Istanbul and this is what I saw Looking down from above: The delicate rainbow of water cannon mist, A single spent tear gas canister resting quietly on the street Trampled upon by a sea of angry pride. Oh, how I wanted to bring it home to show you. And big old proud water cannon truck #63535, The same one I recognized on CNN two days later Causing mayhem in another part of town. Hey, I know you! And oh yea, while I'm on the subject of television, While all this is going on, Mainstream Turkish media is broadcasting cooking shows. I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I heard: Cheering, jeering, chanting, clapping, First ten, then a hundred, then a thousand people All together in rhythm... Spontaneous, exuberant, utterly urgent, The banging of fists on metal gates. Loud noise as voice and statement as power As a way of saying "We are here, listen to us!" I went to Istanbul and this is what I heard: The whack of tear gas canisters Fired at close range The growl of a water cannon truck Inching it's way closer Thousands of footsteps running away Thousands of screams and boos and hisses The cry of a lone seagull flying through the smoke. I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I felt: The putrid mist of light gray tear gas Burning, tearful, bloodshot eyes, Burning lungs, lots of coughing, And a sense of being on the cusp of suffocation. How easy it is to hate authority Authoritarianism Brutality. I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is how I felt: Like a sniper... Studying everything that happened on the street below Wondering what had come over me As I pondered whether I could, All the while pretending that I would, Take out that overly aggressive riot cop -- The one with the burly build If I had a chance, or a way To find a soft spot in his bullet-proof armor. I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I learned: To shower with cold water after exposure to tear gas; Hot water only makes your body absorb the poison. That vinegar, lemon juice, and milk afterwards can help ease the pain That rubbing Vic's VapoRub in your nostrils beforehand Takes away some of the sting. That revolution in the streets is not for children or the elderly, They're not built for this kind of chemical attack on the senses, Let alone the whack of the water cannon. That historic moments come suddenly, unexpectedly, That a social contract should be of and for the people, Not despite the people. That I'm a little more scared, That I'm more than a little scared by all of this. That I don't want my eyes to burn, or my lungs to fail, That it only takes one trigger-happy finger Before the bullets start flying And that I've never ever felt very comfortable in a crowd, Or wanted to be a member of any club... And that I certainly don't want to die, But I just can't stay away... I went to Istanbul to give a master class And I learned a lot.