syncopation

I cannot accept this-

the idea that what is simply is.

I will fight with bloody fists;

fight north, south, west and east.

I will not throw hissy fits,

only to lift my hands up in defeat.

In the face of despair I will show true grit.

Until I draw breath no more will I forfeit.

The drums of change I will keep on beat;

if banging change is the fix then so be it,

for I do not wish to live in a land of what ifs.

I will never accept what is simply is

 

Gentle sir and young miss,

unveil the bride of ignorance and bliss.

Do not say if the shoe fits...,

or you risk falling into a dangerous pit.

You cannot change what was but what is,

so be the change you resist,

I really must insist.

From notions like what is simply is, you must desist.

Do not surrender, do not retreat...

if I am to beg anything of you, this is it.

 

Do you not see miss?

there is something amiss.

I cannot let it be.

Living like this is not for me.

The alternative is more my speed.

They may say no good deed...,

but do not let them sow that doubt seed.

Remove the weed.

This is my bid;

do not shut your eyelids 

to the change we ought to lead.

 

Our righteous anger we must feed,

for positive change is a desperate need.

To this call we have to heed,

or forever stay rolling in the deep.

With me in faith, take a leap,

now is the time to shun sleep.

Our sanity and sanctity we must fight to keep.

Yes, we may stumble along the way or trip,

but our target we must meet,

no matter how weary our feet.

 

We have sank so low

that up is the only place left to go.

No more searching for fools gold down below,

now is the time to say no;

to have the audacity of hope.

No more accepting you have to cope,

it is time to cut that rope –

It is time to change the status quo. 

I hope you catch my flow.

 

What I am saying is,

we cannot accept this-

the idea that what is simply is.

We have to fight with bloody fists;

fight north, south, west and east.

To not throw hissy fits,

only to lift our hands up in defeat.

In the face of despair we have to show true grit.

Until we draw breath no more should we forfeit.

The drums of change we have to keep on beat;

if banging change is the fix then so be it,

for we do not wish to live in a land of what ifs.

We have to never accept that what is simply is

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This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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