Skye
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Reply 19 of 149 (Originally posted on: 02-24-06 09:13:03 PM)
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Quoted from copypastemaker:
(Comment and tell me what you think; crossposted to <lj comm="blackfolk"> and <lj comm="poetry">
<i>Dreamworld
In memory of a man's dream</i>
<i>I have a dream</i>, he said. A dream is a thing of nothing. But he had one.
Civil rights, civil wrongs: strong voices, strong minds, and strong behinds brought liberation. One in particular led and fought without blows, without capitulation. Usurping the namesake of an unwilling protestant and the throne of the unworthy enlightened, he galvanized the nation with a whisper of what lies beyond eyesight.
But at night, he must have cried; even Jesus cried when he learned of men’s deaths. Death makes gods weary and envious; how the man must have suffered!
But suffering, while a lofty occupation, brings no recourse when retired in it.
So he stood.
And he stood.
And he stood until the life drained out of his body.
He bore the cross of truth – he did not have Adonis’s face, he did not have Herculean strength! Yet Atlas did not envy his load.
He dreamed of a world where men could speak words, make oaths, love and live – and mean it. Meaning, the salve he sought to heal the nation, and wisdom, the balm of Gilead that few wielded before him – he commanded both as a self-made front-runner.
The leader of the race, he lapped the finish line, but no competitors joined him. He pushed Little Rock to the top of the monument, and they shot him as the rock fell at the feet of his followers.
When watching all men around him forsake the recognizable for the incognizant, would not the unknown seem more courageous to confront?
Sometimes, I wish that there were a royalty-to-serf dictionary to consult when reading his thoughts.
I don’t offer a penny for his thoughts; they’re passed around like the Maginot Line. Well-fed and reclining, they spit and laugh at the menagerie we’ve framed around them. Mocking eyes and seared skin…we should bring the oven back for the harem.
The witch would cook ‘em; they’ve eaten the homes and brains of millions.
They created a day to mock him. To mock all the soothsayers because no one ever listens to them, they give them days. They play God by giving away or taking days. God only rested on one day. They make excuses to rest.
The king couldn’t speak truth to power, so now we have truth without a prince to call home.
All the heirs turn themselves to dust: snort dust, clean dust, and collect dust.
I wonder what Jesus said when they met. “Thanks for trying.” “Want some popcorn?” “You are my sheep, with whom I am pleased.” “Want some water? Just kidding! It’s wine; you’ll need it!”
Jesus may not have a sense of humor. Jesus may have wept but he did not laugh. Truth is sobering, and with all the truth floating around where he is…at least all the cards (and the wine) are on the eternal table.
We turned to drugs for dreams, so we won’t taste that wine anytime soon. We have malt liquor as a substitute.
He couldn’t have died happy. He did not wake up on his birthday, crying carpe diem! He did not want to seize any day. Arguably, he may not have wanted to wake up any day. Stepping so dangerously close to salvation and peace in the quiet of sleep – such a goal doesn’t equate with wanting to live.
Sleeping pills could have killed the movement. Kill the dream, and you would have killed action. I wonder if he really dreamed that, or if he just said it to test people.
People at that time could not have had real dreams. Dreams require awareness of the world, and no one knew the world for its boundaries. Dreams go beyond borders.
People fought against vision in those days. The light shone brighter than life itself, and people walked with eyelids soldered shut. They ran from nightmares because they could see nothing else.
God hasn’t forsaken you, I hope, like he did some of us. We’re not doing too well without you. S. O. S.
Save our souls; we need your help.
Maybe that’s the message we sent before you were so untimely ripped from our world. Is that why you slept alone and dejected? We didn’t know what gifts we had, did we?
We beat him out of his senses when he was here. We beat him mercilessly, like a piñata; we knocked his dreams out onto the concrete. Except the dreams were fragile… so they shattered upon impact.
We celebrate you, but we hardly knew you! We miss you, but we hardly listened to you.
http://forums.interestingnonetheless.net/display.php?tid=4368
Doesn't the manatee kind of look like a guest on the Ricki Lake show? "Uh, Ricki, I'm here because I'm endangered." Then one of those mean people in the audience would offer up the advice, "Yeah, I want to say something to the sea pig!" "That's sea cow." "Whatever. Sea pig, you gotta get yourself an education and a job!" "Uh, I live in the ocean." "It just so happens you live in the ocean 'cuz you ain't got no job!" "I don't know what you're -" "You gotta get in Weight Watchers, some kinda program!" "I have a layer of blubber to keep my body warm in the water..." "Whatever, talk to the hand." "I dont have a hand!"
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