Sunday, 21 April 2013

Rolling Allostasis -x)

And so goes the common revolutionary narrative. The opposition carried untold numbers. She took nothing more serious. Scrutiny was their middle name. Some of her prophecies just blew their mind. They shook their fists at times, and threatened great violence. Some of which was carried out in a spectacular show of untold force. They bombed our back yards. Our victory gardens, hung defeated. Falling premature off the vine. Hard and without fruit, the trees scorched the air with barren branches. Many of us looked up just so, and cursed the divine. We became tired. We tried to let some of it go. We let down our guard of which had not yet already been demolished, and awaited some sign. Suffering before the dawn of our eloquently stated, much anticipated, emancipation from any and all relative life support. Only She would let us breathe free again. Like chantix in the blood, but better. She was like willpower, but better. She was like a freeway seam, stitching a patchwork of concrete and farmed family squares, to the wilderness of her personal (collectively scorned) dream. Speaking truth to power would be no bed of roses, though she would not force us to do anything. She modelled her style. We got to witness it, if we only showed up. Her runway was  gigantic like the Pixies : a big, big love. She taught us we could make it, before we even knew what we were making. We received her message via newswire.

Maybe half of us subscribed. The other half unsubscribed. Half of the latter half prayed for strength to endure the former half. The better half. The better half of the half in prayer, became lost. Half of the lost became found. Half of the found, found themselves. The rest were relegated to the lost and found. Half of those who found themselves, experienced an awakening. The other half fell asleep. Half of those awakened experienced enlightenment. The other half freaked out. Half of the enlightened set with the sun. The other half were engulfed by darkness. Half of those who cast shadows, stood seven feet tall. The rest turned into tumbleweeds and tumbled down the hall. Half of those who stood seven feet tall, grew egos ten feet long. The other half checked their egos. Half the ones whose egos became checked, knew that they were wrong. The other half took swan dives whilst singing swan songs. Half of the swan songs auditioned for the Voice. The other took a dive in ratings, because they had no choice. Half of those auditioning, were booed right off the show. The other half went on to notoriety in small suburban towns. Half of those who lost their fame before it came, turned into phoenix out of ash, and rose up from the flames. Half of those who underwent the alchemy, now undertook great hardship. The other half flew south for summer. The ones still there, you could almost count, while lying in bed awake. They were not sheep. They were not dead. They were characterized in universal press, as having five to fifty heads.