from its inception the law has been unequal for those under it its function has been and continues to be to maintain servitude and the clear separation of the haves from the have nots a systematic method of oppression that gives the illusion of freedom and the fasle expectation of impartial justice bolstered by the bedtime stories from history about heroic acts that never occurred or occurred in a less than courageous manner
a broken down
old man
just
a bag
of
bones
but
he’s
the
intended result
of
systemic injustice
in
an apartheid
or
caste system society
a government society
with
or
without
the label
democracy
anyway
such labels
merely conceal
the oppressor’s
identity
behind
some flag draped
excuse
for
the oppression
in reality
the only thing
that matters
is
that in the end
of
the social processing
you end up with
a broken down
old man
just
a bag
of
bones
who’s preoccupied
with
survival
and
is unable
to do
anything else
could see the wall’s slats where plaster had fallen off and could hear strange sounds could also feel the cold air warning me to stay covered to remain in this old place not to tempt the fates accept the dead bird in hand like some before me languishing in lifeless rooms accepting death before death mindless survival routines sanctioned by the church and other corporations for the good of all according to marketing but what was outside the walls now here’s the surprising part outside the first walls is another set of walls actually a maze so once you feel you are free you find that you’re still walled in at least with a better view
the dead are not buried the rotting corpse of their ideas moves among us you can smell the stench of their hatred and feel their ignorance’s foul breath on the face of lady liberty these are azazel’s soldiers holding high the black flag of oppression those who dare to speak of human rights are challenged without reason nor any other purpose than for personal gain my words are not new but are mere echos of words of warning heard throughout history
for decades they were enclosed in oppression’s cocoon wings folded tight against their frame not knowing that the silken veils of promises for the meek were spun to hold them in place but one day the threads were slashed with knowledge and they unfolded their wings seeing the colors of freedom and taking flight they could see beyond their fears into dreams
standing on a box near the campus green the brown bag prophet said this new revolution ain’t about your corporate shares nor how damn dry your martini is going to be this revolution is about people like me the faces you see out of the corner of your eyes as you spread suzy creamcheese on your morning bagel this revolution is about interrupting your endless coffee high at your favorite shop serving an imported brew of oppressed sweat and hopelessness this revolution will be ’bout keeping you from overdosing on the society pages that have preoccupied your fictional existence but this revolution will not offer you some damn 10-step program to save you from post traumatic humanity disorder this time you’ll be all on your own so sit back and watch the untouchables drink from your favorite cup tasting for the first time the social lies embedded in history and refusing to add the sugary hemlock of distorted education an education where a slave trader has been immortalized as the father of two continents this revolution is about erasing such names leaving them lying naked for all to see like the women they gave away as door prizes to their crew and baby this revolution will not be the night you planned not a one nightstand but a marriage with consequences
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