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I have a tinge of hope for the new generation. Sword of Damocles swaying back and forth, rising and falling with each new article, comment, glimpse into a near future. When trending happens for something good, something commendable, it is a boon to the human race. I take pride in what we are in wavering degrees. The more accepting youth in revolt awakens an errant knight to fight the dragon of apathy and cynicism. But what hard battles there are in that faceoff, dueling poles expanding and contracting, blanketing the terrain with push and pull forces in an inexorable Ong Bak ballet.

The anti bullying campaign, gay and trans acceptance, even cursory political action and spreading the word through whatever social media and mouth holes. It feels like the baby steps to a more civilized and peaceful society are budding and flourishing before our eyes in slow, one step forward two steps backwards fashion. We relish in the new order, slathering it on the hot dog of modernism, piggishly lapping up good bitlets of change; it behooves us to follow pace with progress.

Yet we must bide ourselves for an inevitable backlash. Back off the tail, be conservative in our enthusiasm for want of wisdom and graceful follow through. The sword comes down again, society cracks and I feel a deep yearning for an unreachable object in space; a promising orb of magnificent colors and dazzlements that spirals away into a nebulous cluster that begs arranging and cohesion, that cosmic entropy engulfing our dreams and tempting us to give up, in, way, to the marauding beasts of a dying generation stuck in the past. People are still proving that a future from this point is brite and we just have to place the lites in the right order.

The news of the day is haunting and strange. Mortality and fatality mince with fate and chance. Disorder is the growing paradigm and concern. We feel so much with our hearts, they ache and bulge with suppressed emotions and directionless tears. Where is it that we must hunker down and make a difference? Is it right to choose one, to support the many initiatives out there? As we’ve learned from Kony 2012, the right message can come from wrong hands. We wish to help but guiding hands are wanting, leaders of true grit are vanishing, ideas are leaping out but are snared by the red tape and realpolitik. Things are made more difficult than they actually are; the opposition has the field and the ref is on the take.

Regulators are bought and sold, research organizations rife with dirty money and ideology. Nepotism, egoism, class warfare diluting the conversation and rankling our numbers. Systematically we are being driven back; calculated maneuvers are peremptorily and studiously being played and replayed. Every other year a new legislation or bill gets trotted out with the same gist as before. Fewer rights and liberties, more power and backing to the corporate hounds, money talks loudly into our ears. They try and attack the net with these measures meant to curtail our scope and access; two tiers for the divided class; Bell curves and cones of ignorance permeating the fight. Everything is made a battle and often word gets out too late. We are stuck with a corporate media humping the upper class’ legs.

And who in this wide wide world do we turn to or at least listen to. It seems we all have skeletons in the closet and no one is truly reliable, in it for the count. You think a person has the right idea and find their roots in the wrong field, they’re working for the wrong team or their plight is not taken far enough. We coddle the opposition too much, too much knee bending and bipartisanship, too much concessions for that dying beast and too many scraps fed to it. Cut the link and make a new world now, no more waiting for players. The fearful and greedy deserve no place at the table. They must wait outside till we are finished. And those starting generations? Who can tell what they’ll become. There always seems to be a loop of closed-minded chuds ready for the next battle.

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