Run, Young People, Run
By E. B. Ambrose
Young people, do you know that you are being played because
you are the ones that have no experience or memory of what has gone before.
Young people, being
groomed to be commoditized, to be the new feast before the greedy.
Young people, do you know that a thought of your future was
never been on the minds of the elders.
Young people, do you see what is being hidden from you? You that are buried with your head hung low,
never looking up to see the boots coming your way.
Young people, do you care that no one cares about you, or
what will become of you? Those whom in
your name, cry, “for the children” are used to manipulate, subjugate, and
eviscerate your very own futures.
Young people, do you see them at the edges of your rug, preparing
to pull it out from under your feet?
Young people, they played you when they stuck all those
pieces of papers under your unsuspecting nose and you signed on the dotted
line, without understanding or knowledge of the indentured life they want you
to lead.
Young people, they ganged up on you; the mo’ bros and the uni’
cads, collaborating to take from you, your future livelihood.
Young people, have you ever wanted to actually hold a hammer
to build, instead of the abstract action of using the “craft of the mind.”
Young people, do you see the uniform of uniformity, the
helmets of white perfectly parted to the same side, strands never straying from
their stations, the look of insincerity in their eyes, the fear and the drive
to make the part they play appear true or real.
Young people, do you see and hear their plans for you as
fodder, to be plowed under in their fields of unrest.
Young people, do you see they mean never to offer knowledge
just to educate you by their own terms.
Young people, build a new world, build something yet inconceivable,
establish a new norm, remove the shackles that are slowly and almost imperceptibly
being placed around your feet.
Young people, leave us behind, run as fast as you can away
from the decaying, murderous, rotten plot of keeping you down here with
us.
Run young people, run.
Posts
