we walk down the street...
...and how many of us ever bother to wonder how the people we pass are doing? How many times have we walked down these same streets, neon-lit as traffic passes and danced the dance of ignorant solitude, never understanding that hidden somewhere inside many of the plastic carbon-copy people with their carbon copy jobs and their carbon copy houses with carbon copy picket fences is secretly an interesting and amazing soul that somewhere along the line forgot how to dream and what it means to be alive for anything but the daily grind. we all are guilty, every single one of us who sign online and while the hours, days, weeks, months, years away doing absolutely nothing and never accomplishing anything but finding out which britney spears song or which type of goth we are.
it's amusing how many times we walk down those same lanes of urban decay, blissfully ignorant of the remainder of society, blissfully ignorant of the impact that one action might have in someone elses life, and yet all the while we continue dancing the dance of fools and dreamers always walking the line and working for dimes and trading in our freedom of thought for the mainstream mass media productions of the generalized world. How many of us truly ever wondered or even cared about why that woman we passed seemed so sad or what really happened in that homeless mans life that has brought him to the sad state of affairs he now finds himself wallowing in. Could, no, would we ever stop to think about why and where and what and when, until it all finally falls into place, like someone flicking some cosmic light switch in the galactic trauma of life.
a true joke, it is that we are so quick to judge but so rare to ask questions to have answers on which to base our judgement on. how many of you see me walking down the street, with my long black hair flying in the wind, and think "oh there goes a stoner" how many more of you see me dressed in black and wearing a trench coat and combat boots and think "look at the goth" or say "hey it's the undertaker?" making a mockery of yourselves and the human race in general? what would happen if even one of you with your car mommy and daddy paid for, and the free ride on your parents coat-tails, stopped to talk to me? would it change your opinion? maybe... perhaps not.
Can one person make a difference in life? sometimes. but that person usually has to be either extremely fucking nuts and do something outlandishly ruthless or seriously mental to get noticed or that person has to be in the lime-light in the center of everyones attention. the focus of conversation and most certainly don't forget, normal. because we all know that the holy grail of perfection lies in normality, being like everyone else so noone fears you or feels better or less than you.
god forbid someone be different and unique and exciting and challenging. no of course we can't have that.... didn't you know? we must all dress the same, and behave the same, and have the same morals, and have the same values, and yes don't forget we must all be rich to matter much in the grand scheme of things.
but this i ask:
truly when the dance is done, will any of this matter half as much as the impact one has made in life? will anyone remember you when you're gone if you walk the line of mainstream normality? will anyone know who you were, or what you believed or what you did for society and life as a whole?
one must wonder.....
...as we walk down the street...
watching life drive by in every color of the rainbow and some distortions of truth that claim right to name as a color.
we walk and without a thought step around the person passing us, as if in one cosmic moment to touch thm would be to indefinitely alter your path of existance. as if to look in the eyes of another stranger and extend a simple courteous word would be too much to handle or allow.
we walk down the street, our eyes blind to the trouble of the city. was that a drug deal? no not here... not in my city...
is that a crack-pipe? no way... probably just a glass container for those cute little roses....
why is she so sad?
why is he always there, standing waiting as if to leave would cost him his life, his very livelihood defined by a single substance...
why do we choose to turna a blind eye?
and at the end of our walk when we've ignored everything we've seen and forgotten the troubles of others lives and the woes and troubles of our surroundings....
we truly are no better than those we see as below us...
it's amusing how many times we walk down those same lanes of urban decay, blissfully ignorant of the remainder of society, blissfully ignorant of the impact that one action might have in someone elses life, and yet all the while we continue dancing the dance of fools and dreamers always walking the line and working for dimes and trading in our freedom of thought for the mainstream mass media productions of the generalized world. How many of us truly ever wondered or even cared about why that woman we passed seemed so sad or what really happened in that homeless mans life that has brought him to the sad state of affairs he now finds himself wallowing in. Could, no, would we ever stop to think about why and where and what and when, until it all finally falls into place, like someone flicking some cosmic light switch in the galactic trauma of life.
a true joke, it is that we are so quick to judge but so rare to ask questions to have answers on which to base our judgement on. how many of you see me walking down the street, with my long black hair flying in the wind, and think "oh there goes a stoner" how many more of you see me dressed in black and wearing a trench coat and combat boots and think "look at the goth" or say "hey it's the undertaker?" making a mockery of yourselves and the human race in general? what would happen if even one of you with your car mommy and daddy paid for, and the free ride on your parents coat-tails, stopped to talk to me? would it change your opinion? maybe... perhaps not.
Can one person make a difference in life? sometimes. but that person usually has to be either extremely fucking nuts and do something outlandishly ruthless or seriously mental to get noticed or that person has to be in the lime-light in the center of everyones attention. the focus of conversation and most certainly don't forget, normal. because we all know that the holy grail of perfection lies in normality, being like everyone else so noone fears you or feels better or less than you.
god forbid someone be different and unique and exciting and challenging. no of course we can't have that.... didn't you know? we must all dress the same, and behave the same, and have the same morals, and have the same values, and yes don't forget we must all be rich to matter much in the grand scheme of things.
but this i ask:
truly when the dance is done, will any of this matter half as much as the impact one has made in life? will anyone remember you when you're gone if you walk the line of mainstream normality? will anyone know who you were, or what you believed or what you did for society and life as a whole?
one must wonder.....
...as we walk down the street...
watching life drive by in every color of the rainbow and some distortions of truth that claim right to name as a color.
we walk and without a thought step around the person passing us, as if in one cosmic moment to touch thm would be to indefinitely alter your path of existance. as if to look in the eyes of another stranger and extend a simple courteous word would be too much to handle or allow.
we walk down the street, our eyes blind to the trouble of the city. was that a drug deal? no not here... not in my city...
is that a crack-pipe? no way... probably just a glass container for those cute little roses....
why is she so sad?
why is he always there, standing waiting as if to leave would cost him his life, his very livelihood defined by a single substance...
why do we choose to turna a blind eye?
and at the end of our walk when we've ignored everything we've seen and forgotten the troubles of others lives and the woes and troubles of our surroundings....
we truly are no better than those we see as below us...