The Revolutionaries are Holding Plastic Plates
Just some rambling, and anarchist bashing. Same old....
The Revolutionaries are holding plastic plates
I am the first in my bloodline to graduate college
Our revolution is in our blood
we can not seek it nor escape it
my grandfather never took the time
to claim impossible
He never held on to my grandmothers hand
because in the 50's if a black man
was caught holding hands with her
it ment warfare
even standing side by side
his hands were always cocked
In case of a challenge
We never asked for anything
but he seemed to be lost in
the dream
this story is walking hand in hand with history
is taking each step
one at a time
is not holding riffles
but is us
at my grandmother 80th birthday
holding plastic plates
If history were to fear anything it would fear us
and these plates
this moment we had together to stop
and look back
my mother who worked her way
from blue color to white, the only black woman in her field
respect is my mother's eyes
she never graduated college
I did
but I did not.
my family did.
with my mother's love and money
my grandmothers advice
my grandfather sprit staring me in mirror
I would not be here.
So, this is what revolution looks like
I talk not of ideals and guns
but of passions and results
Revolution is so cliche
because it's so easy to talk about
so easy to imagine the wheel turning quickly
the truth is that the wheel spins slowly
spoke by spoke
generation by generation
do not hope that someone else will solve your problems
but do not believe that giving up
is an option
listen to your parents
listen to your hearts
listen to your hands
your fingers
listen to your tears
god damn it
just listen
I have heard screams of revolution and anarchy
all the while I have seen the world
cyclone around
individuals who would most want to change
change just kind of snick up on my family
my grandfather played a huge practical joke
on us all before he died
he told us that there are no limitations
and as naive as we were
we believed him
we knew no better
we believed him
and every anarcho-hypocrite
in the world combined
could never talk them selves out of
what happened next
the world blinked
and every riot
you tube protest video
every one in Santa Cruz stopped for a second
to consider
if simply believing you are right
HARD ENOUGH
is going to change anything
We believed that anything
was possible
and anything is possible
but only if you prove
this world defeat
and dream with all your limbs
stop tearing down
start building up
stop whining
start discussing
stop being and believing
start doing
stop hiding your fear of the system
behind your hate of it
stop hiding your hate
behind your education
you would have me hold rifles
when all I will do
is hold plastic plates
and continue to live
in world that constantly
places labels on me
and I am naive enough to believe
that my voice is all that matters
my actions
my hands
my eyes
my blood
The Revolutionaries are holding plastic plates
I am the first in my bloodline to graduate college
Our revolution is in our blood
we can not seek it nor escape it
my grandfather never took the time
to claim impossible
He never held on to my grandmothers hand
because in the 50's if a black man
was caught holding hands with her
it ment warfare
even standing side by side
his hands were always cocked
In case of a challenge
We never asked for anything
but he seemed to be lost in
the dream
this story is walking hand in hand with history
is taking each step
one at a time
is not holding riffles
but is us
at my grandmother 80th birthday
holding plastic plates
If history were to fear anything it would fear us
and these plates
this moment we had together to stop
and look back
my mother who worked her way
from blue color to white, the only black woman in her field
respect is my mother's eyes
she never graduated college
I did
but I did not.
my family did.
with my mother's love and money
my grandmothers advice
my grandfather sprit staring me in mirror
I would not be here.
So, this is what revolution looks like
I talk not of ideals and guns
but of passions and results
Revolution is so cliche
because it's so easy to talk about
so easy to imagine the wheel turning quickly
the truth is that the wheel spins slowly
spoke by spoke
generation by generation
do not hope that someone else will solve your problems
but do not believe that giving up
is an option
listen to your parents
listen to your hearts
listen to your hands
your fingers
listen to your tears
god damn it
just listen
I have heard screams of revolution and anarchy
all the while I have seen the world
cyclone around
individuals who would most want to change
change just kind of snick up on my family
my grandfather played a huge practical joke
on us all before he died
he told us that there are no limitations
and as naive as we were
we believed him
we knew no better
we believed him
and every anarcho-hypocrite
in the world combined
could never talk them selves out of
what happened next
the world blinked
and every riot
you tube protest video
every one in Santa Cruz stopped for a second
to consider
if simply believing you are right
HARD ENOUGH
is going to change anything
We believed that anything
was possible
and anything is possible
but only if you prove
this world defeat
and dream with all your limbs
stop tearing down
start building up
stop whining
start discussing
stop being and believing
start doing
stop hiding your fear of the system
behind your hate of it
stop hiding your hate
behind your education
you would have me hold rifles
when all I will do
is hold plastic plates
and continue to live
in world that constantly
places labels on me
and I am naive enough to believe
that my voice is all that matters
my actions
my hands
my eyes
my blood