2nd Amendment, 1st Responsibility

Let’s start a revolution,
bring retribution
to the poor souls
too lost to find solution.

I say EXECUTION
to this way of life
and all the strife
we think we need
in order to fulfill our greed.

There is a system
and you’re in it
but let’s push it to the limit
to see how far
they’ll really take it
before we break it
from within.

We are the only ones,
so lift up your guns.
Even if they’re only pens.

We

We are a generation of thrill-seekers.
Of broken promise-keepers.
Of flesh-colored water-proof Neosporin bandages.

We are ten steps ahead
but nine lives behind.

We are the deaf
signing to the blind.

Torn between
finding ourselves
and healing the world.
Our only solution is
to medicate both.

It’s not about survival.
It’s about out-shining your rival.
Coveting your neighbor
as if money was your savior
and still finding the time
to polish your shoes every Sunday.

We dread Monday
for all its
paper-pushing petty politics
but come Friday
we go cashing our paychecks
just to throw it all
back into the system
with a round of Happy Hour margaritas
while we complain about
the way our bosses treat us.

Not realizing that we
are our own bosses
who have sold ourselves to slavery
in the most unrighteous
but perfectly legal
sale of souls.

We are more lost than we know.

…

Super Tuesday 11.4.08

It’s the air. It’s the air that you just can’t describe. First of all, it’s 70 degrees on a clear November night in the city of Chicago. That’s right–70 degrees. At night. In November. In Chicago. Clear skies. Mother Nature herself called the election. This is no ordinary night.

But beyond the beautiful weather, there’s something else. Something else is in the air as I’m standing in line at Congress Parkway, waiting with thousands of other people to get into Grant Park where Barack Obama will speak. Excitement. Hope. Solidarity. Somberness. Anticipation. The humbling cognition that we are all about to become a part of history. All of us together. Black, white, Asian, Latino. Young, old. We are no longer any of these things. We are one group of people, one vast sea of supporters coming together,unified by our precarious hope for change.

Inside the park, the air becomes even more indescribable. On huge television screens, CNN coverage of the election speaks to the crowd. In the distance, I can see the stage where Barack Obama will speak, flanked by a row of American flags. I try to push my way to the front but am met with a fence and a slew of security officers that will not allow any more people into the first half of the park. I’m disappointed and try to find a way around it, but no luck.

By this time, I have lost the people I came with and my cell phone can’t get through to anyone. I guess the phone towers can’t handle 100,000+ different signals all coming from within a 1-mile radius, invisibly saturating the airwaves. So I resolve to stand at the top of the hill by myself and am taken in by a group of strangers who make room for me to sit with them on the grass. For a few minutes they become my family, watching the jumbotron together and feeling the excitement build as the projections keep popping up in Obama’s favor.

Eventually, I leave my newly-formed family in search of my friend Mark. Luckily he sees me and I hear the sound of my name shouted, a miracle amidst the cacophony of voices echoing around me. I make my way to where he is standing and join a new family of anxious supporters. It’s getting close now. Really close. They just called Virginia, and it went blue! Virginia voted Democratic for the first time since 1964. It can’t be long now. The polls in California haven’t closed yet, but not surprisingly, they are leaning heavily toward Obama.

And then, virtually without warning, the ultimate projection from CNN: Barack Obama elected president.

The air becomes electrified. The crowd erupts into elated shouting and applause. I try to capture the moment on video for a few seconds and then stop to fully partake in the celebration. I spontaneously start jumping up and down and give Mark a gigantic hug. I look around me and observe the varying expressions of joy in reaction to the news. Some people are jumping around like me, shouting and laughing and hugging everyone around them. Others are cradled softly in the arms of their loved ones with tears streaming down their faces. Others stare ahead with determination and fists pumping in the air. It’s like nothing I have ever experienced before.

John McCain speaks. Music plays. Pledge of Allegiance. The Star Spangled Banner. And finally… President-Elect Barack Obama takes the stage. Deafening cheers greet Barack and his wife and daughters and they wave to the crowd for a few minutes before Barack takes to the podium. “Hello Chicago,” he begins. And the rest is history. This is what we waited in line all night for. To be in the presence of this great man that we have just chosen to be our next President. He gives us a humble and moving speech, as always. We listen in awed silence, with short bursts of cheering and applause in between. “Yes we can.”

Not even the cheesy, epic victory music as he retreats can damper my spirits. The tranquilly victorious crowd begins its own retreat to the streets of Chicago. Although some of my fellow supporters did decide to take the liberty of creating their own opening in the fence, it was all in good spirits and the fence remained in tact with no violence or injuries to anyone involved.

Michigan Avenue’s Magnificent Mile (and then some) becomes flooded with people. The streets are closed off and police officers man the streets; some on horses, some on foot, others in squad cars. But not one officer has to take any action. It is like a peaceful riot, with people standing on top of benches and medians waving flags, singing, dancing, shouting. One guy even decided to get on top of the lion statue in front of the Art Institute and waved his shirt around his head, screaming wildly, but his friends helped him down and no authorities had to get involved.

On every street corner (or any part of the street really) there were entrepreneurs selling T-shirts, flashing buttons, and every other imaginable form of paraphernalia. But there was no pressure, no fear, no feeling of being threatened or bothered, no need to look the other way and pretend that the stranger in your path did not exist. For once, on the streets of Chicago, people acknowledged one another. They acknowledged the people around them as neighbors, friends, brothers. No need to avert your gaze. We made eye contact. We smiled. We felt connected and unified like never before.

At this point, it wasn’t even air anymore. I was breathing in pure, crisp, magical bliss. Everything was surreal. I felt like I was walking in a dream or in some alternate universe.

I still can’t fully wrap my mind around it, nor find the right words to express it. But maybe this is one of those moments for which human language is insufficient to describe. That is why it was so important for me to go to the rally; because I knew that nothing could replace me being there myself. I’m sure watching it on TV was moving in its own right. But what you missed on TV was the air. And if a picture is worth a thousand words, then air must be worth a million pictures.

So next time you go outside, pay attention to the air. Feel it. Taste it. Listen to it. Breathe it in deep and repeat after me: YES. WE. DID!

The last photo was taken from another site. All other photos were taken by me.

University

One day
the history books will say,
“In a galaxy far, far away,
Homosapiens destroyed
their own Planet Earth.”