Friday, January 02, 2009

He.Be.Revolution. (Personal Fav)

I've touched the hands

of a revolutionary.

a man.

and a catalyst

for change.

I've kissed the lips

of a revolutionary.

a force.

a potential name

for legacies.

Not one amongst

the legions of those

bound by the streets

and chained to a mindset

he pumps his fist


but he's holding

a pen.

a mic.

He's the epitome

of Black Pride.

Malcolm's Pride.

Martin's Pride.

Mother's Pride.

Nonviolent Verocity.

Knowledgable Grandeur.

Confusing the masses

Because he manuvers just fine without

The gun on his hip

And the chip on his shoulder.

Never whining.

Pointing no fingers

and expecting no hand-outs.

He moves.

He molds.

He is.

With feet firm.

His convictions are deeply rooted.

Eyes focused.

His sights see beyond the Struggle.

His age inconsistant

of his wisdom.

But oh. How his father

would be so proud. if only

his eyes were just as clear.

He doesn't just know of revolution

or hope for revolution

or front with the cap wearin' and slogan shoutin' revolution.


He thinks revolution

Sees revolution

Speaks revolution


IS revolution.

I'm loved by the spirit of

a revolutionary.

A heart

too good for this world.