A Dreamer Of Hope

A dreamer of hope in this jaded world
The cutting edge of a disinherited brigade
Avant-garde though we’re quite tame
Collecting ideas, though dusty, will never fade

Manifest destiny is a crippling crutch
A mere novelty for a spoilt rich kid
Mankind doesn’t deserve such trumpery
& these militant spirits can never be hid

Be proactive in your revolutions
The rhetoric tied to the strings in their back
Politicians are ideologues with ripped seams
Promising anything to increase their stacks

Opinions are constitutionally protected lies
Our submissions will dictate the norm
Disguising etiquette with a 20 Pound note 
Anti-conformity is another path to conform


March of Conformity 

 It was the sort of place where if you weren’t wearing yoga pants &
boots, you were shunned. It wasn’t an obvious thing. Those within the circle picked up on it. The majority of the girls blended in with each other. A variation in a scarf color was the only thing separating these girls. Most people (especially the males) saw it as a march of conformity by the masses; lemmings throwing themselves to their death. Nothing was ever so obvious as was originally thought. The second inspection revealed more than anyone could fathom. These girls were not as shallow as some sociology report might spit out. That was academic nonsense. This was the real world with real world twists and turns. 

 Had any of these “scientists” thought that these new fangled clothes were the result of improved technology? Yes, there was a mass movement towards this same look, but it was because of the aesthetic and qualities they provided.

 “Technology is amazing.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 “I was thinking that technology can be used to shrink our cell phones to a size where we can no longer effectively use them, or they can create new synthetics that allow women to look amazing. I mean, look at these pants!”

 “How long have you been thinking about this?”

 “Four beers.”

 “That’s actually pretty genius.”

 “Thank you.”

 “I don’t need a smaller phone.” He grabbed a beer from the cardboard carrying case.

 “Me neither.” They clinked bottles. 
*previously posted on former blog