La révolution vit

Bodies replicating displacement,

twisted growths

Streaming up walls

that separate and segregate

The once spacious and spontaneous.

Brimming past allotted space,

Gridlocked in a postmodern wasteland

Deprived of wonder,

no ability to wander.

Stretching,

aching to escape the odds,

The masses stacked against each other,

wrapped in suffocating saran.

Plastic and detached

We clamor for peace

As they bury the hatchet

Separating bone and flesh

De-spining our fragile backs

In an effort to preserve class.

They tie us up on strings

For an elaborate show,

Distractions make us feel we’re in control.

Puppets and human beings

Become indistinguishable.

A pre-allocated placement

only masked by possession.

This land of the free is weighted

towards the monetary security

of them,

Never us.

So will we,

modern day slaves

of the service industry

placidly toil to please their every need?

No, indeed

The chosen few will turn back,

Ready to be trampled

by the stampede of society.

Itching within,

beneath skin and muscles

through blood vessels and malleable marrow,

All vibrating in frustration

and we will exclaim

with little more owned than our given names,

We are no longer

willing to play survivor,

fighting against our neighbor

To climb this invisible ladder.

We’re digging through the bullshit,

elbow deep

and dredging up with two clenched fists

The forgotten sediment of rebellion.