"... next up on playlist is a special request from Rehtaeh of Halifax. It has been quite some time since this one is played on air. Considering the status quo, I don't wonder why. The world doesn't stop falling apart, yet what amazes me is the determination of people to fight off all the melancholy and gremlin of society. It is this trait of man that I salute to. This is Rebel FM and our next song is Redeemer's Sunshine by Shadow Town..."
The other day I was walking through busy market alleys
Women thronged the shops and men mobbed the lanes
Everyone seems occupied in their lives in their cocoons.
Everyone. Except me.
The Crusader of free spirit.
Where doth the moss grow?
I shall go there.
Scurrying through the crowd,
I exchanged glances with a grey-beard man
Few tatters and torns held his dignity
within the expectations of the dwellers
within the limits of civility expected from civilized dwellers
Of this noble city made from blood of her noble people.
The grey-beard man stood still.
In the middle of this ocean of life.
Life, (if it could be termed as such)
which was hysterically attracted
to material, both intangible and fleshed.
We exchanged a dialogue,
Him and I:
"What's the commotion all about?"
'The carnival is coming', I screamed,
as I waded through a stream of men to reach the man.
"Isn't it already here?"
'No, It doesn't seem so. I expect it to be more pompous',
I admitted coyly to the frail, old man
who had humbly welcomed me
with his arms wide enough to embrace the whole world.
"I've heard your dialect before.
Were you ever to part from your flock?"
'No, I'm a lonewalker.
I'm yet to be indoctrinated to material life.
And I feel my jargon,
if there may such be,
would have to defy geographical lengths
to call itself a Communion.'
He shrugged me with a hearty laugh and called me naive.
Then he prepared me for a question he wanted to ask the first person who would talk with him.
Questions of the world don't bother me.
It's those answers that I seek does.
So I, as humbly as I could, agreed.
"Alas! What choice does this country of noble men have anyway?"
The old man replied with a tinge of a satirical smile,
The Shrewed One he was called henceforth
amongst other worthy monikers entitled to him.
His appearances was of a beggar,
It reflected his rejection of the society.
He was a defunct in the system of order;
Gremlin branded in a troop of saints.
Maybe because he knew the flaws too well.
Maybe he had exposed them to those who could either mend or exploit them.
"...Annihilation of reason, propagation of incomplete knowledge
laws of currency replace laws of nature; prejudice of people;
nation blinded by hypnotists performing rituals on screen;
the house of evolution overseen by capitalist regimes;
religion divides people, people divide power.
While in truth, Power covertly rules all.
Even the ones who owns it.
Our nation is scared of the consequences;
of change. Our people are meek", said he,The Propagandist.
"Ignorance might be thy bliss,
O Unconscious One!
But for a man who knows everything,
It's a nightmare raised to life.
I speak for men, for I'm one of them.
And my words are often silenced.
Yet I speak, for those few who shall harbor my words,
and they will know until death,
that I condemn the disease and not the carrier of disease."
His unkempt appearance failed to rob the clarity of his thoughts.
The Thinker he was and his words were like hymns of gods of mortals for mortals.
"Rather than the whole,
we think more of the self.
Man shall realize that what is I?
But just a cog in the wheel
An offspring that thrives in the cradle of Nature.
But he has mistaken himself as the ruler of world.
He now exploits The Mother for his follies.
He has built his world deprived of natural spirits.
But an insulated kingdom brings no trade,
For an individual shall only co-exist
in the company of identical spirits of its non-identical brethren.
Together they shall all thrive in abundance,
and rejoice in material and spiritual acumen
underneath the hearty bosoms of Mother Nature.
Yet, if disjointed, the house of cards shall fall"
The discourse of The Ancient Seer
felt like seraphic notes
of the Horns of Babylon
His words steered my roving mind
and anchored it where it belonged.
A path was laid,
The All-Knowing Navigator would sail the boat,
and the mark of his wisdom shall behest upon me.
I'll be The Propagator,
the harbinger of the holy shadow of The Great Wise One
His many virtues shall trickle through my veins onto men.
Seekers, they shall be called.
And I shall sought the answers they look for.
And I shall seek answers from Him
for all the questions of my own.
'You fight the world but I fight the mind.
You've found your sanctuary right in the middle of chaos.
Whereas I who wanders about, carry only chaos inside.
Show me the doors that I must not open now,
For my innocence might better my sense of reason.
Lead me through the path,
for my boat is lost without you.
My Lord Master,
I'll be your humble servant.
The one who shalt wipe
thy feet & thy hands
with tears of rejoice,
when the burden of men
shall you take onto thyself."
"You amuse me, O curious child.
Our destination maybe one,
But the paths could be many.
Your path may differ from mine
But that shall not always mean
That you won't reach there."
Saideth he, with a brilliance of thousand suns in his smile.
The Radiant Prince.
"Yet I will carry you along.
Long distances we shall cover in dialogue.
For there is sunshine in many dark corners
but scattered glints don't stroke the fire
upon which valorous men ride
and turn the tide on the history of mankind.
We must reach them all and call them our own
and we must all be kinsmen.
For together we shall change the path of humanity
Together,
We shall burn the holy scripts
possessed by those who were born with its possession;
We shall burn the scriptures
that divide men and their wisdom;
We shall burn the paper
that grasps the laws of nature by its throat;
and we shall burn the currency which doesn't exist"
We must bring order to the world,
Lest all shall perish.
And Thus arose The Leader,
The Emphatic One,
somewhere from the low rung underbelly of a rotting city.
And thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
It was then,
The First Sons of Rebellions were awoken.
***
Women thronged the shops and men mobbed the lanes
Everyone seems occupied in their lives in their cocoons.
Everyone. Except me.
The Crusader of free spirit.
Where doth the moss grow?
I shall go there.
Scurrying through the crowd,
I exchanged glances with a grey-beard man
Few tatters and torns held his dignity
within the expectations of the dwellers
within the limits of civility expected from civilized dwellers
Of this noble city made from blood of her noble people.
The grey-beard man stood still.
In the middle of this ocean of life.
Life, (if it could be termed as such)
which was hysterically attracted
to material, both intangible and fleshed.
We exchanged a dialogue,
Him and I:
"What's the commotion all about?"
'The carnival is coming', I screamed,
as I waded through a stream of men to reach the man.
"Isn't it already here?"
'No, It doesn't seem so. I expect it to be more pompous',
I admitted coyly to the frail, old man
who had humbly welcomed me
with his arms wide enough to embrace the whole world.
"I've heard your dialect before.
Were you ever to part from your flock?"
'No, I'm a lonewalker.
I'm yet to be indoctrinated to material life.
And I feel my jargon,
if there may such be,
would have to defy geographical lengths
to call itself a Communion.'
He shrugged me with a hearty laugh and called me naive.
Then he prepared me for a question he wanted to ask the first person who would talk with him.
Questions of the world don't bother me.
It's those answers that I seek does.
So I, as humbly as I could, agreed.
Q: If you are to given a choice
between the two-
the fundamentalist and the choker,
who would you choose
to orchestrate the carnival?
A: I'll choose the fundamentalist,
he is a performer of sorts
he'd atleast have some acts lined up.
He'll be prim & proper.
He'll be ready to entertain the expectant crowd.
Regardless of his methods,
howsoever extreme they may be.
The old man replied with a tinge of a satirical smile,
The Shrewed One he was called henceforth
amongst other worthy monikers entitled to him.
His appearances was of a beggar,
It reflected his rejection of the society.
He was a defunct in the system of order;
Gremlin branded in a troop of saints.
Maybe because he knew the flaws too well.
Maybe he had exposed them to those who could either mend or exploit them.
"...Annihilation of reason, propagation of incomplete knowledge
laws of currency replace laws of nature; prejudice of people;
nation blinded by hypnotists performing rituals on screen;
the house of evolution overseen by capitalist regimes;
religion divides people, people divide power.
While in truth, Power covertly rules all.
Even the ones who owns it.
Our nation is scared of the consequences;
of change. Our people are meek", said he,The Propagandist.
"Ignorance might be thy bliss,
O Unconscious One!
But for a man who knows everything,
It's a nightmare raised to life.
I speak for men, for I'm one of them.
And my words are often silenced.
Yet I speak, for those few who shall harbor my words,
and they will know until death,
that I condemn the disease and not the carrier of disease."
His unkempt appearance failed to rob the clarity of his thoughts.
The Thinker he was and his words were like hymns of gods of mortals for mortals.
"Rather than the whole,
we think more of the self.
Man shall realize that what is I?
But just a cog in the wheel
An offspring that thrives in the cradle of Nature.
But he has mistaken himself as the ruler of world.
He now exploits The Mother for his follies.
He has built his world deprived of natural spirits.
But an insulated kingdom brings no trade,
For an individual shall only co-exist
in the company of identical spirits of its non-identical brethren.
Together they shall all thrive in abundance,
and rejoice in material and spiritual acumen
underneath the hearty bosoms of Mother Nature.
Yet, if disjointed, the house of cards shall fall"
The discourse of The Ancient Seer
felt like seraphic notes
of the Horns of Babylon
His words steered my roving mind
and anchored it where it belonged.
A path was laid,
The All-Knowing Navigator would sail the boat,
and the mark of his wisdom shall behest upon me.
I'll be The Propagator,
the harbinger of the holy shadow of The Great Wise One
His many virtues shall trickle through my veins onto men.
Seekers, they shall be called.
And I shall sought the answers they look for.
And I shall seek answers from Him
for all the questions of my own.
'You fight the world but I fight the mind.
You've found your sanctuary right in the middle of chaos.
Whereas I who wanders about, carry only chaos inside.
Show me the doors that I must not open now,
For my innocence might better my sense of reason.
Lead me through the path,
for my boat is lost without you.
My Lord Master,
I'll be your humble servant.
The one who shalt wipe
thy feet & thy hands
with tears of rejoice,
when the burden of men
shall you take onto thyself."
"You amuse me, O curious child.
Our destination maybe one,
But the paths could be many.
Your path may differ from mine
But that shall not always mean
That you won't reach there."
Saideth he, with a brilliance of thousand suns in his smile.
The Radiant Prince.
"Yet I will carry you along.
Long distances we shall cover in dialogue.
For there is sunshine in many dark corners
but scattered glints don't stroke the fire
upon which valorous men ride
and turn the tide on the history of mankind.
We must reach them all and call them our own
and we must all be kinsmen.
For together we shall change the path of humanity
Together,
We shall burn the holy scripts
possessed by those who were born with its possession;
We shall burn the scriptures
that divide men and their wisdom;
We shall burn the paper
that grasps the laws of nature by its throat;
and we shall burn the currency which doesn't exist"
We must bring order to the world,
Lest all shall perish.
And Thus arose The Leader,
The Emphatic One,
somewhere from the low rung underbelly of a rotting city.
And thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
It was then,
The First Sons of Rebellions were awoken.
2 comments:
A long read, but a rewarding one nonetheless. Brilliant!
hey Thank you furree katt. yes it was a tad too long, infact it's the longest poem that i've ever written. but i don't know, i couldn't stop!
i just wanted to add every bits and pieces i could find. I'm glad you liked it! There are a lot of implications one can derive from this poem. I wish i could say them all aloud some fine day.
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