Written plainly and crudely on a white yard sign, aside a road right here in the middle of anywhere is troubling question. Not because of its literary organization or mechanics but more over because of the reaction it invokes. “Have you had enough yet?”
But what does that sign mean to its creator? Is this modest billboards original intent as important as the observer’s impressions? One simple sign, in a simple yard in a dream created by those who wish us to sleep, a simple a question is posed.
“Yes, but how?”
How does one show the others? What does it take to incite the passion of a generation of people? People breed, groomed, and programmed for apathy. A generation and their children, and now maybe even their grandchildren, raised on a mothering tit filled with neatly vetted distraction, misinformation, and fairy tales. How does one organize that fiery rage that burns into the others who can’t? What is communication worth if no one’s listening? When the stream of objection falls to deaf ears you become the madman, screaming to yourself in a crowded subway about those that wish us to dream.
In to the bustling chaos your scream
“Where are the masses yearning to be free as they are led to graze in our comfortable pastures? And why can’t they see the evil that lurks?”
When the evil does not rely on shadow and the unknown, but now it simply owns the day and light. Why is it so hard to look away, to be the first to shade one’s self? Is this where the difference is made? In the art? An art that can be just as easily controlled and mechanized to convince you of the dream of which they wish us to dream. Is that what it takes to startle the heard? Are the measures as simple as knowing they do not stand alone? Is the strength in numbers thwarted by the absence of a first? How does the first find them self alone, a singularity and when does that singularity find themselves as the beginning of many? How does one raise this call? Raise a voice powerful enough to carry a message?
A message that will be watched, recorded, transcribed, emailed, replicated, synthesized, analyzed and stored. A message taken of any real power will be used to destroy its bearers who scream madly in to a chaotic subway station. When did we welcome it into our lives? Into our homes and bodies, an out of control personal intrusion. One to learn us, use us, sculpt us.
“But it’s okay because we didn’t do anything wrong.” Except maybe being here. Here to talk and think and share. Here to be responsible for every minutia of being, so small to think off turn would cause offence.
“But it’s okay, you’re not doing anything wrong are you?” Except maybe think while I was here.
“Just remember be careful” Be safe, be secure, tightly bound in your swaddle.”
“Be safe! Don’t wonder alone in to dark or wilderness. You’ll be unsafe. And we can’t have you being unsafe. And of course your free to move and do and be, unless you do that, don’t do that.”
Why? Why Can’t I do that? I’m free, independent and secure right? So why can’t I do that, this act you decree unclean. Is it because I am not secure? Unstable and incapable of control? Ah, or is that I am not free? We are not free? Where do these decrees reign from? These lists unclean. Do they come from ones so wealthy they are godly? Gods born to protect the meager peasant? To represent an interest so uniquely individual it’s in relatable to the commoner. Is that power, godly power? Is that power by purchase? And at what cost? Can it be bought? At what risk? And why is this okay? Where is the burning?!
Maybe it’s in the confusion, the daze and shuffle. Total decay, absolute system crash. Too many things, too many too big. Bigger than me, bigger then you, bigger than us. But is it bigger than us? Is there anything bigger than a single us? What do we require as a single us? What to be heard? A voice? What makes a voice more than screaming in a dark subway station? How to resound a call to friends, families, and brothers to make them realize they are being dragged willingly down a crooked, downward, spiraling path. To take a peaceful, organized and willful stand. We do not require violence to be heard as a single us. A violence that in true cyclical fashion would be cause a rise again, like an abused child beating their own offspring. Is there a resolution of interest in brother hood? Is there even reason to stand? What if the lurking evil has fooled us again? What if it’s bigger than that? Bigger than the machine, simply a cog of a deeper, older and stronger machine. If the gods are but a tool, are they a ruling class of fools? Whose rules? What is the source, the epicenter, the highest ground? What is this force? Greater gods? Who’s power so exceeds wealth it’s in its self, absolute power? Does this power fall to a single individual? A single individual so powerful to quell a single us? Is the force even human? Or a cosmic force, a push or pull of common parameters destined to repeat in a never ending ether.
Is it even changeable? But how do we know if we don’t try? Where do you start? Who? How? Do we affect a change? Where to find the power? And who can weld it? How are they not to be destroyed or corrupted as well? How do we know? Do they know? Those who don’t sleep so well any more. The ones whose dream is fading. Does it pain you? Hurt you deep inside? Does it touch a place in you that’s lost, alone, and scared in the dark? Do you somehow feel it has to end? Are you willing to give up your comfort? Are we ready to wake from a dream to see its faded promise? What do you even gain from trying? What is free? Has anyone ever really experienced it? Or is its existence just another distraction, misinformation, or fairy-tale? Do we even truly desire freedom? What if we turn only to be led? Should we try to fight and wake and scream and join? And choose to teach those children and grandchildren the truth? Teach then to wake from this dream, and to ask all American questions.