Can you hear the call?
At what point in thought did I begin? This question, if answered, may give much needed insight into the plight at hand. All these rambling passions rushing forward, slipping backward, and churning on and on. There is no moment, no specific bliss that describes the palpitating presence of my mind. My thoughts scream four words over and over again. One moment in the future succeeds in my head. I want a revolution.
Things need to change. Not the vaguery of objects, but the specificity of oddness embodying human behavior of late. The world churns and I am nervous that I could be controlling the flood again. Yet, I have learned to apply reason to that and the appearance of a noose hanging on doorknob can not be fitted with the disclaimer I wear around my neck that says "reason lives here." Because, it doesn't. Reason is gone as well as the sympathetic mind.
What are you thinking? Where is this coming from? Hatred that has lived under the dust of history. Someone turned the temperature up just enough. Someone danced one too many rain dances. Kids are killing kids in the name of what? Someone shouted nigger today in a classroom full of impressionable kids. All this is coming from somewhere and this time I know I'm not controlling the flood.
But where to begin? There's no easy button in sight and I reflect on the past for a trigger, a point to begin. How to inspire a nation of kids to see what their pot smoking hippy parents did. A fire inside that flickered out. A passion that suffocates under the signs of fear. Why don't we do something. Organize, sympathize, revitalize the energy and make a mark. Not a simple highlighted passage in a history book, but the entire thing, chapters and all. Resounding words, the poetics to call attention to the need I feel, the need you all should breathe and seethe under. Let's put an end to this. I hear it call. I hear my voice. It sounds like revolution.
Things need to change. Not the vaguery of objects, but the specificity of oddness embodying human behavior of late. The world churns and I am nervous that I could be controlling the flood again. Yet, I have learned to apply reason to that and the appearance of a noose hanging on doorknob can not be fitted with the disclaimer I wear around my neck that says "reason lives here." Because, it doesn't. Reason is gone as well as the sympathetic mind.
What are you thinking? Where is this coming from? Hatred that has lived under the dust of history. Someone turned the temperature up just enough. Someone danced one too many rain dances. Kids are killing kids in the name of what? Someone shouted nigger today in a classroom full of impressionable kids. All this is coming from somewhere and this time I know I'm not controlling the flood.
But where to begin? There's no easy button in sight and I reflect on the past for a trigger, a point to begin. How to inspire a nation of kids to see what their pot smoking hippy parents did. A fire inside that flickered out. A passion that suffocates under the signs of fear. Why don't we do something. Organize, sympathize, revitalize the energy and make a mark. Not a simple highlighted passage in a history book, but the entire thing, chapters and all. Resounding words, the poetics to call attention to the need I feel, the need you all should breathe and seethe under. Let's put an end to this. I hear it call. I hear my voice. It sounds like revolution.