You say the revolution won’t be televised,
But tell me, brother, why then are these steepled people
On my TV, preaching, teaching, screeching through the screen,
Histrionics in the pews, convulsions on the concrete and
Instant indulgences in priests’ pockets
Being spent on suicidal mission rockets
To outer-spaced, inner limit win it in a minute
Money mugged from people picking other people’s pockets.
The revolution may be live but
Instantly reassembled pixel resolution is
A living revolution to the bouncing babies in my brain,
Internal entities developing exponentially into the brightest of brain children
Minding their manners in a mind over matter counter intuitive inquiry,
My blood brain barrier pushing pressure points from the progression,
Exchanging the pain for rapid red-light recession,
Leaving the car on the road so the kids will get towed
To foster minds, winding away from economic downfall,
Robbing Peter and ignoring Paul.
If this is the live revolution, brother,
Then what do you call the history of a convoluted collective conscience,
Striving against balls and chains on the ankles only to ball and chain the mind?
What do you call the mashed up misanthropic melodies of fear itself and
The wealth of learning summarily thrown out with the dishwater and
The remaining straggling scraps of the past
Served up with a silver spoon on a contemporary platinum plate,
Not even holding their own weight
Against the forces of fate, fortune, forever twining lies
Around the lidless eyes of the foster children, once mine but now.
Now don’t hold me wrongly responsible for their constant cataract
Counterfacts, competing to augment their reality through contact technicality.
It’s for them to claim the constantly alternating alternative to 3D life and
This is their singular revolution, an evolution into unbiased, unraced, rational states
Of mind melding, electroflesh welding interface.
Now I know why the revolution will not be televised, brother:
The television will be entrancingly intrinsic,
Impulses frantically fed to and from the head,
History live that once was dead,
Mental mind communion instead
We’re all moonwalkers, landing,
All wheelchair bound, standing,
All dictators of the world, uniformly commanding,
All the universe, infinitely expanding.
All image vendors, handing
Out mind passes to see antiquated prototypes of
Televisions, in the days when our predecessors couldn’t see for themselves.
In the days when humans passively viewed television revolution,
Unwisely revolted by the thought of active solution.