Description: Spoken Word written and preformed by: John Logue III "I think I was born retarded… I’m sorry– mentally challenged, off balance and ill equipped to deal with how to feel about all of life’s problems. I lacked social skills and free will and my parents said they should...
Description: Spoken Word written and preformed by: John Logue III "I think I was born retarded… I’m sorry– mentally challenged, off balance and ill equipped to deal with how to feel about all of life’s problems. I lacked social skills and free will and my parents said they should’ve held me back. Maybe if I was born in Africa, Chechnya or Tunisia I wouldn’t be so forlorn in my approach but I wasn’t. I’m an American with a caucasian face and this, of all places, is where we shouldn’t have time to beat our chests to be at our best. But we do. Men and women, gifted with higher thought keeping them selves so taut inside as if they lied to themselves and said they’re no better than anyone else. We can do better… I think I was born with this handicap to be so captivated by such a minuscule amount of beauty surrounding me. To see that the smallest of small means something shows that it’s all a chain reaction when you follow your tracks back. But sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason for the seasons change. Somethings always stay the same and can be proven like a hypothesis to exist. It seems fewer and fewer seek solace in science these days. Fiction has become part of their rhetorical dictation. But If you can see faith from a mile away and aren’t willing to accept that it’s a fact when you fail, does it really matter where someone falls on the Kinsey Scale? A cognitive dissonance? The left and right brain disobeying what they’re trained? Nonsense. We’re born this way. And no matter whether you like it or not, he’s your brother and she’s your mother so hate be forgot like an accent civilization. Forgotten like the plight of the black man who was oppressed and pressed into the pavement by a firehose in the fifties. Forgotten like this country’s reaction to the decimation of the asian population only to lay train tracks across our back yard. Forgotten like the lost sock at the laundry mat or small pox wiping out the indigenous habitants of these majestic mountains. We have shorter and shorter attention spans. I know, I’ve always had trouble focusing… My teachers wanted to put me on pills but my parents said “No son of mine will be confined.” “No way will we give a crutch to this crux,” only then did my Dad realized he couldn’t beat it out of me. No, he didn’t punch or kick or use an open fist so don’t go calling DYFS. He is a good and honest man of whom I will never eclipse. We share the same name but bare separate burdens. And now he has a heavy heart which I fear is often filled with callused hate. I wish I knew him in his younger age before when he stood at the shore and saw the same rising sun as me. Will I be the same at sixty…? Honestly, I won’t know so I won’t play the what if game. But I’m inclined to believe in love and refuse to lose my pursuit of empathy over apathy that’s left me sifting through such divisive, aggregated, regurgitated commentary articles– searching for SOME common ground. Because if all we are is pragmatic particles, misused and abused in sentence structure, then why do we dabble in the politics of people when we have such feeble minds? Maybe we’re all retarded… Sorry– mentally challenged and slightly off balance and skewed and skewered by the swords of our lives and striving to survive day in and day out. Some fight the power, others on the grind getting left behind in the 40 hour work week, with the drones, the worker bees, all living in harmony… Why cant we clasp hands so tight the world feels our might, creating a grid of longitude, latitude and love. Why can’t we ascend once again above?" [Empathy not Apathy]