Recently, a poem crossed my ears, eyes, heart and soul, and so I thought I’d share it with you.
A Real Revolutionary
by Michael Lee Seliga (aka RandoMike, of www.eatyouryard.com)
Just because you wear a Che shirt, or Travel around Latin America, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you have political bumper stickers on your Toyota Prius, or your Bio-Diesel truck, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you read or write zines, or install the Linux operating system on your computer, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because You’re a vegetarian, shop at the Co-op and reuse cloth bags, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you ride a bike, dumpster dive, or do political theater, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you rock climb, do Kung Fu, smoke herb, or get a vasectomy, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you live in a Collective House, compost food scraps, and make your own tofu, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you write poetry, play capoeira, or work on an organic farm, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you listen to folk music and wear flip-flops, or hip hop and sport shell tops, or punk rock and have a Mohawk, or Reggae and got dreadlocks, does not make you a revolutionary.
Just because you “damn the man”, fuck the system, capitalism, Bush, or War, does not make you a revolutionary.
Don’t-get-me-wrong. I consider the above good and support you doing them. However, what is revolutionary to me…
is if your toes are like roots of a mobile tree, which provide you balance, strength and patience; you walk with a WIRY resilience , wily resistance, and kick up dust with non complacence.
Revolutionary to me is if your spine is built with of peace cranes, and your hips and legs are constructed out of titanium slinkys.
Revolutionary to me is if you use one set of fingers as sculpting tools to facilitate people’s negative comments into positive thoughts; and with the other you drop literal and metaphorical seeds so you propagate life wherever you flow.
Revolutionary to me is if your rib cage is not locked so your heart is free to inspire humble speech, which your lungs bellow, in addition to harmony and thunder, the one depending on the situation.
Revolutionary to me is if you use your arms to bridge chasms previously thought impassable… if you’re comfortable in your skin, as well as with other people’s melanin, and your chin is stuck up but your nose is not.
Revolutionary to me is if you are fluent in three-year-old, if truth emanates from your mouth constantly curled up; if your lips are puckered to deliver quick kisses or so you can whistle your theme song when having fun in the struggle.
The shape and size of your ears don’t matter. What matters is whether you resist judgments and assumptions; whether you listen from your soul as intensely as a hummingbird flaps it’s wings because you know in the scraps of syllables and sounds is where aural nectar can be found.
Revolutionary to me is if you can see color and be color-blind simultaneously, and although you have X-ray vision and can see sickness around you, you can also enjoy the beauty that surrounds you. What helps you do this is that, tattooed on the inside of your eyelids, is “there is hope” so even on the days when it’s hard to see, you still have visionary dreams.
Revolutionary to me is if the glass on the windows [Eyes] to your soul is clear so when people look in they see fire. If the lobes of your brain are divided into self-respect and focus, and if you move as though you’re a piece of art with divine purpose.
I am not trying to claim anything here. The above are only criteria of what I hold to be revolutionary, and allow me to move towards an ideal.
Because, yeah: I too want to be a real revolutionary.
“What we call the beginning if often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” – T. S. Eliot
A sunny week to you all, inside and out.