🔵 By Daniel Broome. Photo by lauragrafie.
AH! Where am I, there’s no rabbit down here? Look at me do you see him? He must’ve went deeper, stay on my tail…
Imagine… maybe THIS time you have to close your eyes to see it. Can you see it? The re-imagining of your imagination…
Imagine us unfettered, what lines could be crossed and what coalitions of thinking could be topped and traversed… You won’t need new shoes to find traction, or to change hats. You don’t need permission. You don’t need to get in line. You don’t even need to be defiant; you can pleasurably take the concept that’s been bestowed upon you and valiantly tell them to keep their script. If anyone has told you out of turn who you are or need to be, preconceived you away from your individuality, it’s not only ignorance that impedes their mind. From thinking through a superficial dimension, it’s also them telling you to chill with hem in the shallow end.
Don’t You Do It, Don’t You Dare! For me, please, I wanna survive too… deal?
There are reasons, in their own respect very WELL BEYOND this realm, why geniuses will not walk among us – because they would be stoned to death.
Give people all the freedom in the world, and they do the dumbest things. The things that many have done before them – you’d thin k someone up there with unlimited funding, would have a few pre-conceptualizations themselves; to survey, map, and calculate the quite apparent trajectories of an identifiable, sociocultural, sociopolitical (socioeconomic?) circumstance – maybe even three generations forth – and produce an equation to be reduced empirically. Sounds like basic math to me. Compound this with the modern progression of military technological advancement and you realize the chess pieces you’re playing with aren’t even on the board – but my Louis Vitton belt says I’m though! (lol jk.) (The internet was in the military’s possession, before we spammed selfies and ordered Axe cologne.) You may see hundreds of rapping, booty-clapping hot-dog sandwiches (HA) before your real imaginations are truly piqued…
But imagine if we were unfettered by the chain after chain after chain of never ending line of ants of: Condescension. Implicit Bias. Willful Blindness. Lack of measurable guides of further extensions of consciousness. Callous narrow vision. Short-sightedness, cutting you down… It almost feels like something’s being stolen from you; “stolen” because you wouldn’t barter for petty tribalisms or glazed over petty dramas of others, which actually traps you Un-realized depth so your beautiful soul eats small…
What if you couldn’t speak. Your voice stolen from you. But once restored… the things you’d say? Speak with your sacred voice. Tell everyone “who” should hear you.
LIVE. In out-spoken defiance of it or in the mute fury. Don’t „just exist“. Seek life.
„I’m all-out outta damage control, Margret, honey, did you order more? Oh yeah, honey left. Guess I’ll get off the couch now, I feel all out-cured!… Wait, what’s on TV.“
Calling all eyeballs and showing metabolisms…
TELEVISION! (Now for the youth.)