on mindful anarchy as a coneptual base for revolution

Weak now, nor sure pleasure rolled for peace...

Sisters and Brethren we are disjointed with few factors bold enough for us to ouright see revolution as it forms at the quantum horizon.

As cool dies, the hipster puts cigarette to lips and finally asks 'why?' Exhaling a cough both rough and mild, as well as convincing, hipster is confused in the daylight, coffee cold with dairy creamer spinning itself into mucous-like balls in soupy mud. Oh how your days have passed and no one cares to hear you brazenly tout how many beers you drank last night, hipster. Nor how much tar-black antise nazi cough syrup you poured on what you thought was a fire, now reduced to a mere smoke signal of ignorance- your self.

Spin the wrong kid out and there's blood on your hands, or was it never your fault that kids made it to adulthood in the first place? They are a deserving bunch, you wish you could conclude, but spinning is no solution and kids need to grow up more than they need to be on narcotic therapy regimens assigned by pre-school dropouts turned mommy's good little boy for the pharmaceutical rape industry pirate sideshow, and told not to pay attention to the man behind the curtain: The Man.

So, with the doctors and hipsters addressed there were left a carpenter, a quitter and an audio engineer with a boss to uncontrol the parts and a set of darts to throw, if only they had a conversation. One brought Jesus to the party, late and out of sorts, and he just stood there fingering the little pocket above the big pocket in his borrowed blue denim, ripped up nice and desert style - a savior at the shopping mall giving away clothes from the year 0 and handing out the relevant sections of euphoria aging in the garbage heap collection area. However, the quitter was interested in lasting til the end of the night and proceeded to entice the carpenter to do the same as he ended all conversations with the same handshake - like pounding another man's extended hand with the corpse of a dock-flopping piscatorial ghost. Jesus didn't shake hands at the bar because he knew none of them washed their hands after they pissed Christ off, nor after urinating. Plus, his right hand was sewn up in that little pocket of his jeans for much of the evening. However, and this was the hallmark surprise of starting a weekend with an audio engineer, everybody heard everything and after an hour had passed no one would dare break the silence of not talking politics with any sensible reason for changing the topic to mindfulness.

Slovenly, we have trudged quite far while never leaving one place. I can remove the monkey from your back so long as you pledge not to replace it with a needle in your spine or a chip in your brain.

Have your achilles tendons ached inexplicably? This was stress inflammation from all the mental weight you refuse to set down. Head heavy, you have proceeded through a river of confusion with your weight in the clouds and your eyes glued to gloss. Quit your faithful slavery! Walk away from the building, the box and the butcher without entering a detached frame of reference, or none at all, ever again.

Establishment of this revolution is a crucial step for humanity...actions trump words in the revolutionary handbook. When I see you do not write me off as pragmatic, and I will write you onto the list.