Revving For A Revolution

With the passing of Gil Scott-Heron, I wanted to write something here to commemorate his life and his work. He's better known for his lyrics, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," but "The New Deal" is a close runner-up.

But, before I share his "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," let me share a poem of mine, inspired by the Lyrics:

"The Revolution Will Not Be Televised [1]"

The revolution is an involution, and an evolution.
It’s meant to overthrow your heart and mind,
To rewire your brain’s convolution,
So truth will be easier to find.

Here’s what Gil might have said,
Our all-too-soon, dearly departed:

"The revolution has already started,
But don't look for an outward sign:
The revolution is inside your head,
And well within your mind."

[1] Gil Scott-Heron

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
bbout a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

Do you want to be made whole?

Do you want to be made whole?
Then, rise. Take up your bed and walk.

Walk in your freedom
Run not out of fear
Face the darkness and know that
You control the light
Because you are the light.

The light -- bright and spotless
whole and free

You are the light in you own life, shine.

You are powerful beyond measure
and your greatest power is to choose.

Choose to love or hate this story.

Choose to love or hate your mom.

Choose to love or hate yourself.

It's your power and has always been.

Choose, over and over again until your light
no longer shrinks when the shadows make your flesh crawl.

Thank your flesh for reminding you of your
choice to love.

Choose.

Will you be made whole?

The decision is yours.

It always has been.


Author: Alexis. Poem copyrighted 2011. For republication, consent must be given by the author.

Background Information:

I've known Alexis (Lex) for several years now. We met online. During that time, she's faced many personal obstacles, and have bested them all. This poem is a testament to her amazing growth, and how much she's allowed herself to remember of All That Is.

She was gracious enough to allow me to share her poem in this setting. For that, I extend my heartiest thanks.

I CRY

I CRY
by Carlela

I cry for the babies, who has no food to eat,
brought into this world to suffer, and often beat

I cry for our children dropping out of school,
no one cared to teach them about the golden
rule.

I cry for the homeless sleeping in the street,
stop being selfish, offer them a piece of meat.

I cry for the gangs, killing to take control,
they've instilled inside a reaping, for their very
own soul.

I cry for the fathers who never stood to the
plate,
say hello to your children, it will never be too
late.

I cry seeing mothers put it all in her hand,
it's a cry of joy, she knew how to stand.


I cry for old folks being neglected and abused,
these are the same ones, that opened up doors
for you.

I cry observing families breaking up, fighting
everyday,
God didn't put us together, to act out this way.

I cry looking at young men wearing their
pants so low,
an open invitation, it's not the way to go.

I cry seeing young girls with their skirts
raised up high,
can't find true love, they don't understand why.

I cry for peace to let it begin,
soon this world will come to an end.
I cry knowing Jesus is coming this way,
He said it in the beginning, when He created
the day.

I cry to see love shared between many of you,
those are reasons why I cry, one day it will all
come true.

copywrited 2010

photo credit: stylecouch.files

MOTHER

MOTHER

by C. Lynn Thomas


God thought of me
When He called me to be a Mother to thee
I was to be a lie line as I carried you
When my heart beat yours did too
I ate you did too

Yes a life line as I carried you
He told me about the pain in child bearing I had to bare
But He would be right there
Moving around all inside getting ready to arrive
As you came
I can't explain
But a great joy overcame

In my arms you lie when just once you were inside
I lift you up and gave you hack to Him
Saying...Lord thank you for entrusting me
I dedicate this child back to thee
For in you Lord I look for you to guide and provide

Nothing can move me from being a Mother
For what a honor to be a Mother to thee
As life went on by I found myself
Watching your 1st step, 1st tooth, 1st dance
So many 1st there were
What an honor not only to be a Mother to the one I bare
But to the others that had no Mother to care

A Mother is more than carrying and delivering a child
A mother rises early
And won't sleep to the late of night
Praying, caring, loving, giving, sharing teaching
Oh that's me
To the end is where I'll be
For God called me to be a Mother to thee

Copywrite 2006

submitted by Blinders Off

photo credit: romanticrider blog

artist credit: Kolonoj