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Not a poem but a diary entry, you know, I'm unconventional to say the least...

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Not a poem but a diary entry, you know, I'm unconventional to say the least...

Post by Balearicdreams on Fri Oct 18, 2013 5:02 pm

Hey guys, this is just an old diary entry, I'm not recommending it as a read, just putting it out there. I'm not fishing for compliments, but this is the most personal thing I have ever posted in a public forum, so please be respectful if you have something to say :-)  

Mutinies and revolutions

With less than two weeks until my first protest, I wondered how I would ever get everything done. I had to confirm attendees, print out leaflets for the day, do a little canvassing before the event, arrange any props and any large leaflets/ pickets, arrange a time.
Confidence. This is something I desperately need to solicit from inside of me. I can feel it stirring sometimes, I need to grab it, strengthen it, let it become a part of me. The meek will inherit the earth. Perhaps so, but the courageous will fight to get it for them.
Kind words and inspiration from one of my idols the other day led me to visualise some comforting scenarios. Me, successfully communicating the problems of capitalism and its corporate greed nullifying human existence. People listening to me, and telling me their problems.
Getting out there and feeling the real world. Hopefully not getting banged up in a South London jail cell under obscure ‘anti-t’ laws for challenging the establishment. God, sure, people have achieved much greater things through much scarier battles. A night in the cells teasing pigs could even be fun. Sure, forty days or three months was a little less amusing.

I would wear my encounters as badges of honour, pride at having known that although I was chopped down, it was because I stood up, and I can damn well get up again and again until they take my life. The fantastic sense of freedom and being alive that I anticipate I feel already in my heart. As far as spooky witchcraft and animalism goes, I can feel the blood of the great revolutionaries very faintly in my veins. Like little specks of light, they join together to form my resolve and illuminate my spirit. In as far as that heebie jeebies is concerned.

After many years of rain, and I mean that metaphorically also, I was looking to the future with a sense of drunken optimism. I’m going to finish becoming me. I’m going to feel strong in my own shoes, be in control of my own universe.
That means taking responsibility for my own destiny, and those destinies of anybody I am privileged enough to protect. I have dwelled a lot on what it means to be a revolutionary. And what it means is to educate, respect and protect. It is not to brainwash, demean or patronise. The truly vulnerable need to be sheltered under us. We need to be their shelter. We need to be their voice and their force, their might. They need to stand beside us, and we beside them. Without the people, there is no revolution.

God, I am a dreamer. If I could ever escape this suburban nightmare I’ve got myself into. With no rich relatives or stable family home, I’d become trapped in my own life. What choice do I have but to save the world?


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