stone the builder refused

The time when strangers

Enter our village

And give us curry goat and feed our children guns

To get us and others to vote for them

So that they can be our political leaders

And tell us what to do and what not to do,

is long gone.



The crocodile

Climbed down from our motto

Granted arms to the people

And slept with their daughters



Humming birds tweeted in pretty tones,

begging the croc to come home.



He returned,

But his offspring

remained

Began their own army

Designed to attack

The very foundation of every institution



The corner stones are full of chicken blood and rum.



Let us begin

By asking our mediums

Behind their cameras

What are they shooting

Why is the preferred story

One of pain, hurt, betrayal



Why do so many mothers

Spend their lives unnoticed

Till their sons die?

Why are they allowed on camera to mourn



For tonights newcast



I want to hear dead prez singing happiness in the background

And I want to see slow motion shots of flowers

Dancing… hips swaying

to voice overs from the birds



Cutaway to a stream in the blue mountains

Countless inner city youths have never breathed that air.



I want there to be more than just a ray of hope

I want a bath of sunshine

To slam a tsunami into every insecure zinc home



We don’t want to hear the statistics of crime and violence

We want to hear the headcount of the good-hearted

We want an approximation of good deeds done per year

A tabulation of angels,

We want to remember we are all acceptable in the highest court.



Don’t tell us about reduction. Tell us of increase

not abuse or the albatross of crime



Don’t tell us we are among the top five most murderous

Don’t remind our weak and burdened system

our poor politic gelled to condemn,

if it had its way, our nation

To a state of perennial violence



this is it.

through loving to see our brothers shine

No apologies

No judge-ment

Nothing

No excuses



Together we complain that the younger generation is worse than our own.



Shall we now conjoin

as many groups who go before?



Having Always pondered our purpose…

On a whim…

Will we pretend we are ready?



Lending unsteady commitment to this delicate revolution?



Or will we shed our issues at the door.

Will we choose this as a place to stand

A circle of integrity

A fertile space to manifest the flowers you truly are?



We’re here to clean the room

push nothing beneath the bed.

Too many things already under the bed.



As a matter of fact.

Tonight, we move the bed.

Peruse, re-use and discard



If anything lies beneath

Which does not make us stronger



No need for us to hold on any longer…



Tonight the banner is raised

The flag declares itself

Empowered by the Manifesto of Jamaican

Youth

Wielders of art

Welding swollen hearts to the mission.



To Educate, Expose and Empower

the generations

sealing all cracks

in the ship

with unconditional love.