MANIFESTO
This is a call to the neo-beats, the guerilla artists, the truth-addicts, the hacker, and the transcendentalists! This is a call to the black bloc, the anti-fascist, the business owner, the underground leader, and to all those in the general mass who still find beauty in the sunrise!
We are members of the new generation, Generation E, who are banding together in the name of protecting those things we hold dear: freedom, joy, beauty, and true happiness. These things are in danger and we come to answer their call by building a firm foundation with steadfast members in the name of everyone who has a heart and mind to still enjoy them. We are known by our passion and ability to say what we want to say and the quick beat of our heart when we know and understand our voices are being heard.
We accept that there is an apathetic resistance to our voices within the generation itself and that we have been penalized for our belligerent nature since our early teens. But, we know that it is not the unmovable ways with which we speak that has birthed us such a reputation, but our boisterous passion for speaking of life, truth, and for love. We will not accept that these feelings are based upon teenage angst, or upon the fatal mixture of arrogance and ignorance.
We will not accept another bloody lash on our back, another biting word that tells us that we can't, or another person discarding us like so much trash if we don't conform to what they call standards. We will no longer accept that we are alone and we will no longer be without direction. We will, as a whole, join the free thinkers in history that have refused to accept the sorrows of the world and found a way to change them! As a whole, we will stand tall as our enemies realize they were wrong and they hold the broken chains that once bound us. Know us and fear, conformity. Shiver in dread as you clutch in vain to your holdings and realize we are picking away at your tower, molding it and making anew. We are here with our weapons of knowledge and voice and numbers, and we understand the beauty of diversified thought.
We share a thirst for self sufficiency that separates us from you, even if we find enemies in our own generation. We bind our own books, make our own paper, and hunt and forage our own food. We build, we paint, we barter, we tailor, and we create and sustain loving communities. We're hotheaded, si, but we're passionate, and our voices will resonate in the cities and towns we gather. We stand bruise-knuckled and moonlit with our teeth flashing in the night; our feet numb in the frozen, dewy grass that just a season before held our naked bodies as we made love and grasped sweaty passions that no one but we could ever understand. We've cooked feasts for one another and for total strangers and dined, and drank, saying toasts to warrior poets of the past and present.
This is not just about enemies, systems, or politics. This is about warfare. This is about every single battle. This is about the reclamation of true beauty. We carry our lovers with us when their long hairs commingle with yarn in our scarves. We represent thousands of miles when we wear patchwork pants crafted from the clothes of a dozen wild hearts that walked from coast to coast. We will wait, then, for the sound of the trumpet. For when it plays, on that day when beauty can truly reign again, you will know us for what we are, and we will conquer you and burn you out. And this hunt, and this war, may finally be over so that our new world may rise to take its first free breath.
Our enemies are the lethargic: those without direction that refuse direction. Those that wallow in pity and believe the world owes them something. They who refuse to do anything more than gorge themselves on the bloody milk of the world while staying blind to the issues that surround them. They who hold to their double standards, thinking their double thoughts, and complaining about their nine to five while accepting with a sigh that nothing could ever be changed or that no one would ever want to change it.
We've cried alone in open fields under a vast collection of stars with our knees moist from the soil and our faces wet with disbelief. So then hail to primal thought! Hail then, too, intellectualism! Hail, too, oil on canvas! Hail your sweat as you defend your dying ways against us! This is an affirmation that your system has ended and ours has already begun! Our passion, perception, and grip upon our simplistic pleasures will pierce you as the sunlight pierces the undead. We will bring our stories, and the words of our aspirations and dreams, so that we may greet one another as what we truly are, brothers and sisters.
Welcome to the future...pass this on.