Friday, July 15, 2011

How can you have a slam poem without a social conscience? so what's my cause, black people behind bars, or political hypocrisy, or religious division, or sexual confusion, or oppression, or sanity, or blindness, or truth? Here's one. How about the people without a cause? Plain white kids growing up from the woods to the 'burbs, without cause for anguish aside from the ever-present nuclear family chaos. What happens when an aimless generation grows up and finds no enemy to rile against, no draft to dodge and no protests to march in, kids like me who listen to music from the 60s and smoke that subterfuge grow up, and learn that everything they were told was a lie. They can't touch they sky, and they won't be president, and nobody told you your focus in life becomes paying rent, and voices that said aim high now say aim lower, and nod and shrug your shoulders, they wonder why we appear apathetic? We were born to stand up and fight aggression, overthrow oppression, but we're sinking backwards into regression and gaining momentum, but don't take my word for it. Look into the ranks of the unemployed and find the disillusioned youth, or even better the under-employed, flipping burgers to support drug or gaming addictions, these are my brothers and sisters, with lack of sunlight afflictions because socializiation comes through a keyboard, listen mister, don't talk to me about entitlement. The only thing our parents gave us was everything we didn't need, and our country doesn't need us so we sit at home as a generation, bleeding creativity and potential into the streets. Yeah, laugh at us and call us lazy. Becaus we're laughing at you and calling you crazy for mangling your horns against the wall, knee deep in the grind trying to get ahead and we're comfortably lagging behind. We're a generation of cynics, and sarcasm is our first language and without the ability to speak emotion it's impossible to make a connection and each one of us is an island. As time ticks onward will we forget how to stand, or merely become so cynical that we lose the will to try? The fire of a generation slowly dies, and with it, so do we.

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