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March of Progress when I turn on the TV after work, the green canvas monster on CNN catches my eye. It breathes one ragged breath, in some desert country that prays in hot steel and tells me all these things I don't want to know- torn teeth in a split grin, "blink and see your friend mowed down in the dirt blood seeping and you already know my name, don't you" the screen goes black and I lay down on the couch facing the wall, eyes shut up and screwed tight it's all I can think- that after two hundred years of progress, all we have to show for it are endless days of looking down a gun barrel, wondering when it will fire. Open The Heart Dirty boots tell a story, Of a time of distant glory, Brave souls of the past, Had to breathe a final breath. What about lessons learned? Bodies charred, bodies burned. Are we not all the same? Pierce the skin; we all feel pain. Every “Being” from a Mother, Seeking Love from an “Other.” That “Other” is another “One;” another gift from the Sun; A spark of divinity in human form; At every moment, Another “One” is born; Another “you,” another “I;” Another Star up in the Sky; Be cognizant of lessons past; Open the Heart, And Peace will last. Bring Down The Borders, Baby, Bring Them Down. Bring down the borders, baby, bring them down. Stop pretending skin changes on either side of an imaginary line. Dude, it's just a made up name for a made up place. It separates us; conforms us; destroys us. We pretend some are in and some are out. This piece of the puzzle is all ours! We've stuck a piece of fabric on a pole; on that fabric we've put a symbol. A symbol that only holds relevance if we all pretend it does. Bring down the borders, baby, bring them down. It's time, isn't it yet? Isn't it really time to put away illusionary arrogance. To do as Jesus said and love one another. "All you need is love" someone famous sang not so long ago. We begin to not be men when we assume differences exist from other men. We're all just trying to get by. Trying to live as best we can. Working at jobs we hate to make a little money. Pay-cheque to pay-cheque, day by day. We may wear different coloured pants, but we all piss the same way. Bring down the borders, baby, bring them down. Some of us on the planet hoard almost all of the supplies. Bitch and moan when the rest want to share in the spoils. Talk about how foreign they are. How different. How wrong in thought. Surely only our piece of the planet is the most civilized zoo! Justify any amount of violence because the men on the other side of the line are not us. Stop it. Grow the fuck up. Wake up people. Do you really think hating everybody is pushing us ahead? Bring down the borders, baby, bring them down. |