Random Excerpts and Stuff

Hi all. I haven't been feeling too much like posting lately. In fact, I've been feeling deeply introspective. I don't know why, for sure. I think I'll post on it sometime. I think it has something to do with an internal conflict I've been feeling between reality and, well, not reality. By this, I mean between how I think things should be, and how they really are. Wow, aren't I being overly dramatic.

But for now, I found this poem in my English folder. I was de-entropizing said folder today and I want to recycle the paper but save the poem. So I figure what better way to do that than to eternalize it in cyberspace.

It's a poem about the Vietnam War and a person who gave his life to bring a spotlight on atrocities occuring half a world away.

Norman Morrison by Adrian Mitchell

On November 2nd 1965
in the multi-coloured mutli-minded
United beautiful States of terrible America
Norman Morrison set himself on fire
outside the Pentagon.
He was thirty-one, he was a Quaker,
and his wife (seen weeping in the newsreels)
and his three children
survive him as best they can.
He did it in Washington where everyone could see
because
people were being set on fire
in the dark corners of Vietnam where nobody could see.
Their names, ages, beliefs, and loves
are not recorded.
This is what Norman Morrison did.
He poured petrol over himself.
He burned. He suffered.
He died.
That is what he did
in the white heart of Washington
where everyone could see.
He simply burned away his clothes,
his passport, his pink-tinted skin,
put on a new skin of flame
and became
Vietnamese.

Now, you can think man was insane or incredibly brave. That he was a psycho or a hero. But think what you want, he was a voice in the darkness.

Wow, I think this poem has more to do with my current empty, ego fortified difficulies that I would have thought. Isn't synchronicity a beautiful thing?

Peace.