A Poem: The broken revolution

revolution2

I stepped over the line drawn by a world that created norms of a society I no longer accepted, if I expressed an opinion, held a sign over my head, standing alone on the steps of your institutions, would I get the picture for my efforts or two paragraphs buried on page five, would blood make the impression more appealing, a body mangled by the enforcers of justice and peace, why do you step around the corpse, glancing as you pass, wondering, where he went wrong, what was he fighting for, outside of the crowd my words ring hollow, detached from convention, isolated from their cause, a voice in the darkness, but you worship to my example, you extract a verse for your convenience, how it fits, if it fits, where it fits and discard the rest, this was our story, a story as one rather than for one, a story of compassion and reason, that has morphed into exclusion and hate, I came to start a revolution, to fix what was broken not to start a new, you did that, in my name, with my symbols, you separated yourself from me and each other with decisive words and actions, a partition of faiths and doctrines that each side defends as the truth, no longer is there room for everyone and anyone, the transformation has ended, the story is broken, the movement is over, you have discounted the effort, overlooked the intent, created a path of benefit for those who believe as you, look as you do and while your numbers flourish my voice grows dimmer and my example draws silent

An original composition by the author of Ends and Beginnings

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About ends and beginnings blog

I am a frustrated writer and poet waiting to be discovered. A stand-up philosopher performing on a street corner near you. A Christian with questions but I don’t want to hear your answers. A Buddhist with a bumper sticker on my truck to prove it. A collector of quotes. A grower of lettuce. The Patron Saint of earthworms who name their children after me. A cyclist whose big ass strains the seams of his Lycra bibs. I am American by birth, Southern by the grace of God. My goal in life is to leave an imprint on the lives of the people I love not a footprint on the earth. I am a son, a husband, a father composed of 65%-Oxygen, 18%-Carbon, 10%-Hydrogen, 3%-Nitrogen, 3%-Diet Coke and 1%-Oreo.
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7 Responses to A Poem: The broken revolution

  1. Patty says:

    Wow! That is I think the longest sentence I’ve ever read, and sadly a so recognizable thought.

    Liked by 1 person

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