A Manifesto for Progression- in progress....... some poetry, some thoughts

One often wrestles with their own internal struggles before,

the viewing public or the listening free, ever see the results of pent up frustration,

that "one" tried to ignore.

The many nights one stayed up, trying to shut that door, to the issues and the setbacks, that were no long set of knick knacks, but were instead to the true self indeed.

One may quizzically suggest, that the easiest way around the problem, is to rid ones self of the nest.

In order to be stronger, the baby chick must fight his way through, the membrane, of which his strength and protection once grew.

Were then told that life, gives us, only what we can take, but more than ever, we seem to suggest to our kin, life's able to show you, what's its, and what it can break.

Its in this vein, that one attempts to scale back the pain of yesteryear,

to only be left with a clearer view and stain of with holographic life fear.

That one's future lays not in his or her hands, but at the knee's of economic fears and cloudy dimensions of the World's Financial Hands.

While in the picture of life's scheme we are left to assume, that our images are not implicit but rather somewhat of a costume. Put it on during the day,wear it right, if things go good, you might withstand the night. No dreams here, acceptable anytime. Commit to the culture, if you expect to make a dime. Is it possible to dream in a land that so richly flows, from one stream of wealth to the lake of health and hardship woes. Can one still admit and be sure, that for all is worth, it's possible to saved and still knock on trouble's door.

How does one move to the next level? A question pondered daily. Richly cultured, abundantly stacked. What level achieves more than that. When we posit this question of movement, are we really asking for a closer relationship to the triune or a better lifestyle of the rich and famous, to allow one to mark items, as got it and buy it soon. A culture of conformity, I richly admit, will walk past the homeless, and the beggars and dying, in effort to ignore the truth, millions of babies are still hungry and crying. Walk past the filth and squalor of the street and sit in the diner, for a steak medium rare, mild and light heat. Shake hands with them and they'll cringe is that suit made from a wool blend? No wonder, people wrestle over God's existence, if God be true, could people animate his example and exhibit pure love. Love the one with the cleft chin, wool coot in the summer, scruffy beard, for your encounter with him, could be your chance to face your fear. Love the woman, whose youth is gone, pale complexion, details the stale affection, that her worry has caused. See her, in the midst of the crowd, walking but stressing about the 5 mouths she has to feed at the house, the minimum wage wont feed the girls and bustling boys, health coverage non existence, that cough wont leave and the neck pain wont give no reprieve. She like many of us, had dreams, dried up in her bad decisions, smoked out by her lack of provision, but does love learn, and does love progress, for days, she presses through the crowd no thought on her on wise, yet in this bustling city, could'nt someone look and see her, and help her. I prophetically suggest, that until, she see's peace from her rest, until she realizes the dream our formothers and fathers birthed, bloody with their appeal to Zion. No need to escalate to another level, no need to gather up possessions for the long haul, God's love reaches from gutter to gutter. leaps from broken to broken. Cone was right to suggest, that these must be the people God associates with, because the other, could do well without God. No need to Call on God, when you never had a pain in the midnight that would not move, nah, no need for him, when life has been a crystal stair, not trying to offend those, who have enjoyed the milk and honey that this land had given, but to those whose mouths have been parched in the meantime, those whose lives has been built on the stony ground. There is Respite, if you cannot free your soul, then free your mind, for God still walks with the downtrodden, he still sups with the beggar, he still kneel's with the lame and yes God appeals to the criminally and ineligible insane. God neither naps or sleeps, at the though of his children, her children, going hungry, and yearning for a school lunch that wont last past 6th period. We hope flights across the seas, to feed the needs of our ego's adopt the color but not the creed. Yet here at home in the states, there are plenty of needs that are left outside the gates, can we move on, i say no, til the righteous indignation, moves from words to in living color show. Show them, that we care, give them love even in their times of physical despair. Our needy are not some else's their our own, their me, their you, their see. even her, even him. yup them too, the jones's have went into foreclosure and the reeds are living in tent city, while the millers and grants seek gentrification, to be closer to the city, the soil is better and so are the plants.