Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

New Age

Remember that.
Blood spilling,
Souls burning,
Hearts rushing,
Dread itching up your throat
Like vomit, like bile.

Sucked into
Some kind of paradox
Where people
Truly have the power
To chose.

But I am half dead,
In a tree,
From one
Alternate reality
To the next.

Trying to remember
The feel
Of consciousness.

And all I recall
Is that
I'm not allowed to.

Rest beside me,
While I struggle
To breathe as you
Struggle to see
What the big deal
Is with me, and
Then you dub me new age.

My culture was
New age.
My traditions were
New age.
My heritage is
New age.

And these are things
That have existed for
Hundreds of years.

Then you cam
Along and dubbed it
New age.

My face hurts
From that audacity.

Remember when
Silence was broken
(and not golden)
And children were
To be heard
And enjoyed
(not hushed),

Then you remember
Who was here first

And whose age was new.

July 11, 2005

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New Age

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