a wake up call to those who r listening Copyright © 2009 by Helen Tinsley entering the oak paneled room reeking of tradition and order she sat on the long wooden bench her mind wandered back in time as 4 young energetic kids played in leaves, had snowball fights, counted stars & caught lightening bugs, cheered at games, ran touchdowns, shot hoops, & bit by bit…year by year…grew up her mind was lost in a sea of memories…years of flashbacks of mothering…of teaching…guiding…struggling & living life in america black…bold…& determined to fight for everybody’s child to do this thing right & show people how it should & could be done then a loud voice penetrated her ears WILL EVERYONE PLEASE RISE! the judge draped in black slowly emerged his face lined with privilege, power & disregard & 4 the woman time stood still the side door jerked open sounds of shuffling feet & rattling chains resonated thru the room the men emerged – all under 30 dressed from head to toe in orange DOC printed boldly on their back led like dogs by stern faced guards to whom this sad & intentional ritual was as familiar as breathing young, gifted and trapped the best & the brightest smart, witty, analytical ones business minded, people persons, leaders, movers & shakers the ones who make it happen & keep it poppin’ grooving to the wrong tune marching to the beat of a different drummer not knowing they are marching to the beat of he who is in power the controller …the manipulator…the user & the real abuser he is playing the beat and u young brother…young sister are dancing to his tune disillusioned by a system of work til u die enticed by the illusion of doing your own thing convinced by the rational of not slaving for someone else justified by the excuse if not me then who mesmerized by the allure of fast money so u dive head on full steam ahead to the trap the modern day slavery of bars and chains u become the new economy that revitalizes decaying communities & jobless hills u become the solution to poor folks from mining towns & desolate farms young, gifted and trapped u create a paycheck for drivers of food vans who sell sandwiches, coffee & chips across the street from prison guard towers as church vans turn into transportation wagons to bring families from bus stops & train stations filled with baskets of food, toiletries & stuff that greedy vulture guards seize as contraband and sell back to u for stamps, cash & a piece of your soul u restore hope to a people so vicious & evil they depend on making a living on the back of others even if they have to create, manipulate & facilitate just like those who came before them did u rebuild their communities & they need u to survive let me back up & say that again u rebuild their communities & they need u to survive so unless u see the game & recognize & change the plan u will remain young, gifted and trapped
Posted on: Fri, 19 Jul 2013 05:25:19 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015