Apr 2015
People say I’m loud,
I just wish my voice would carry with the wind and
into the ears of everybody who’s not asking to hear
what I’m talking about.
You didn’t invite yourself,
I invited you to hear me out.
You won’t hear me,
you’ll hear my object of choice
held high with two hands, to the sky, to the spray of your tear
gas in my eyes,
but be not blinded in sight as you are deaf to the ear,
loud and clear
you see my poison spilled on the mattress my body was mutilated on,
shoving out through my sweaty hands,
drip, drip, dripping onto the streets you defend with
your devices of destruction.
My words weight is less than a million dollars,
less than a tuition,
less than my fore father’s current colleagues
who are counting down days from suits to polo shoes,
making face on the last of their public legacy,
they don’t want a face like me writing slogans on their cities about ignorance and inconsistency.
I guess I’m not loud enough,
it takes more than volume to raise
The roof the roof the roof is on fire.
Save the pen, the paper, your voices and chairs,
your mattress and umbrellas that protect us
from your outrage at my outrageous voice
Silenced by a shield. Silenced by batons.
Silenced by political power without political people,
incorrect intentions, raging with rovers 100 feet above my head
exploding like an overfilled balloon.
You can beat my words down
but you can’t burn my furniture,
bigger than you, bolder than you, screaming louder
through a mouth it doesn’t even possess,
looking on the face of a choir, a whole choir,
asking to cure our disease.
I will hold my symbols of faith, ****, and freedom in my right hand
and swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth
until our protest has made a difference,
until my metal chairs have molded your thoughts
into signatures on a page of on a page of social justice.
It just is, bigger than you, bolder than you, louder than me,
Don’t test me, Test my furniture.
It will always be heard.
People say I'm loud.
I just wish my voice would carry into the ears
or everybody not asking to hear what I am talking about.
Well, I'm not talking,
My object speaks pretty loud.
I just wish my voice would carry with the wind and
into the ears of everybody who’s not asking to hear
what I’m talking about.
You didn’t invite yourself,
I invited you to hear me out.
You won’t hear me,
you’ll hear my object of choice
held high with two hands, to the sky, to the spray of your tear
gas in my eyes,
but be not blinded in sight as you are deaf to the ear,
loud and clear
you see my poison spilled on the mattress my body was mutilated on,
shoving out through my sweaty hands,
drip, drip, dripping onto the streets you defend with
your devices of destruction.
My words weight is less than a million dollars,
less than a tuition,
less than my fore father’s current colleagues
who are counting down days from suits to polo shoes,
making face on the last of their public legacy,
they don’t want a face like me writing slogans on their cities about ignorance and inconsistency.
I guess I’m not loud enough,
it takes more than volume to raise
The roof the roof the roof is on fire.
Save the pen, the paper, your voices and chairs,
your mattress and umbrellas that protect us
from your outrage at my outrageous voice
Silenced by a shield. Silenced by batons.
Silenced by political power without political people,
incorrect intentions, raging with rovers 100 feet above my head
exploding like an overfilled balloon.
You can beat my words down
but you can’t burn my furniture,
bigger than you, bolder than you, screaming louder
through a mouth it doesn’t even possess,
looking on the face of a choir, a whole choir,
asking to cure our disease.
I will hold my symbols of faith, ****, and freedom in my right hand
and swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth
until our protest has made a difference,
until my metal chairs have molded your thoughts
into signatures on a page of on a page of social justice.
It just is, bigger than you, bolder than you, louder than me,
Don’t test me, Test my furniture.
It will always be heard.
People say I'm loud.
I just wish my voice would carry into the ears
or everybody not asking to hear what I am talking about.
Well, I'm not talking,
My object speaks pretty loud.
Written under pen name Jason Red
Meant to be read aloud
Meant to be read aloud
