Inspired by Meg Cranston's Artist for President
(http://www.uniteddivas.com/megcranston/megpresident.html)**

We assert that there is a youth culture that is different and separate from all other cultures and that our culture is governed by principles which the aged population finds peculiar or offensive.

We are tired of being labeled.
We are tired of being segmented.
We are tired of hearing old people talk about us.
We are tired of being the respondents to your 20 city questionnaire.
We are done with being ignored.

We are sick of 1980s spandex.
We are sick of your Top 40 hits on a compact disc.
We are sick of your rom-coms and big budget fantasy sci-fi sequels.
We are sick of 60 billion ad messages being hurled from satellites in outer space.
We are done with being disappointed.

We demand the right to change everything.
We demand the right to create our own words.
We demand the right to define what is cool in the morning.
We demand the right to re-define what is cool in the evening.
We are done with being told to follow.

We reserve the right to be elitist.
We reserve the right to choose our heroes.
We reserve the right to create jobs that never existed before.
We reserve the right to outsource, open-source and crowdsource everything and all.
We are done with your rigid ways.

We condemn the wars that you started.
We condemn the poverty and hunger you created.
We condemn your irresponsibility in ignoring our dying planet.
We condemn the forces of greed that keeps an honest man from climbing the income brackets.
We will fix the mess you left behind.

This is for school kids
This is for college students
This is for young professionals
This is for the young artist who shares his creations on DeviantArt
This is for the young blogger who dreams of being a travel journalist
This is for the podcaster who is on her way to become a successful RJ
This is for the YouTube user who dreams of her own television show and feature film
This is for the photography enthusiast who spends his pocket money on a Flickr Pro Account
This is for the opinionated Twitter-for-Blackberry addict destined to become a Twitter celebrity. (Even we don’t know what that means!)
This is for the coding guru who gifts his geek friend a mobile gaming app based on Dungeons & Dragons for his birthday. Yes that is cool...for now.

This is youth culture

One for the worries
Two for the woes
Three for my wrongs
Four for my foes
Five for love lost
Six for lost cause
Seven to hell with those

who look down on the solitary loser drinking to fog up a lousy day spent watching a pair of morons in black do a bad job of groping each other’s private parts

I break stones all day long
Mother, you break your back
from dusk till break of dawn.

We moved from left to wrong
Mother. cornered by fate
I break stones all day long.

and watch you lay withdrawn
mother, dreading the hours
from dusk till break of dawn.

Scrambled notes of a song
mother, cheap lust’s prey - while
I break stones all day long.

Your hopes from times foregone
mother, breathe within me
from dusk till break of dawn.

Men who stain your sarong
Mother, plague my mind. So
I break heads all night long-
from dusk till break of dawn.

I

Big and Black and
filthy after
his bath in the sand.

The giant best
free from collar
rid of all command.

His mahout speaks
a foreign tongue
of broken antiques.

Shankar Ravi
my newest friend
one of nature’s freaks.

II

Healthy fodder, all
branches and leaves, won’t
eat at any cost.

Peanuts and
bananas,
devoted to those.

Deep ends of
winter lakes
until his ***** froze.

Crazy giant, son
of the wild, father
to a herd long lost.

III

How and when did
you and I grow
so close, so soon?

Splashing away
simmering days,
beneath the stars
studying the moon.

‘Here have all these
bananas and
peanuts that I
saved for this day!’

Wretched fate that
put you in chains,
plays its part to
take you away.

One final bath
in the sand to
bid us farewell
in our own ways.

I hope you find
a herd in the
wild to make up
for the lost days.

Brown
a color
the stench of my skin
My blood it
reeks of red

Sniff
my name
a foreign sound
A common tongue
that stinks the same

Get a whiff
of my god
a displeasing odor
The tang of a heartbeat
in you, in me

Can you smell my pain?

You and I
two flowers
two scents
in the same world

I am sorry it bothers you so much.