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Click herethe day the revolution came
everything looked much the same-
no defending of barricades,
no singing of La Marseillaise,
no heads chopped off by Robespierre,
no raising high the tricolor
by Lady Liberty with her
lovely breasts valiantly exposed.
the kids still played and laughed aloud,
the schools stayed open for class,
the car jockeys kept pumping gas,
and businesses went boom or bust,
but there was change inside of us.
we let the dream of heaven go
and poured that love on our sorrows;
we turned infinity's axis
so time was no more our master.
no synthesis emerged from Marx,
no commune born of Bakunin.
workers didn't rise for Trotsky,
and no coup d'état by Lenin.
neither Jesus, Mohammed,
nor other redeemer came.
everything looked much the same
but everyone was different.
but it all comes at me so fast, with no line space for thought between ideas, that it loses its punch. And while I understand that an internal revolution has taken place it feels oddly passive. I think that may be because I want to know who the narrator is and why he or she is experiencing this: the narrator is not present enough. The poem has huge potential--some rethinking and revising can get it there. Just my opinion...