All the doors closed, everything sold.
As we’re limping with pride.
But if only, all the lonely[ness]
Would keep staying the tide.

There’s a newsflash, ’bout a car crash,
No survivors to save.
You seem leery, of your theories,
‘Cause they won’t fit the page.

Chasing words so fleeting now,
Tell me what can I do.
I spent it all on destiny’s ride,
But I can’t find you.

Easier on paper,
But we’d rather call it a game.
Knuckles are white from your clenching,
Our knees got bruised in the rain…

There are over 2 million facebook users who actively use this app each month. Is there ANYONE  among them who doesn’t take lightly the concept of selling human beings (yes–even completely innocuously and virtually)? If you’re reading this and happen to use the app, I don’t want to make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. But I invite you to poke around here: www.callandresponse.com

Here is a new song in the works, lyrics unfinished. It’s called Easier on Paper. See below for the first verse and chorus:

We kiss swords,
in our discord.
Jamming sticks in the spokes.
There’s no turning,
but the burning,
Tickles under your throat.

Heavy hearts crunch,
Bitter words punch,
As hope is taking her bow.
Swooners clapping,
Children napping,
They never woke to the sound.

Chasing your words so fleeting now,
Tell me what can I do.
I spent it all on destiny’s ride,
But I can’t find you.

So much easier on paper,
We’d rather call it a game.
Knuckles [so] white from the clenching,
Our knees got bruised in the rain.

So many wasted dreams,
Are breaking at the seams.
She’s sold for pleasure,
But what’s the measure?

Of a single life,
Who’s only seen the night?
With the watchmen we['ll] wait,
To seize the daybreak.

Grind your sorrows into sand.
Let the flash-fears fall from your shaking hands.
The accusers’ words grow deafening,
As the lowly spirits of revolution sing.
…
A hand to help and hold,
As your blood is running cold.
My dear, you’re shivering.
Light the lamp so we can see.

The wounds are gaping now,
[Along] with the scum and the proud,
[Oh] we should have been [fore]warned,
But look, the veil has torn.

[So] Grind your sorrows into sand.
Let the flash-fears fall from your shaking hands.
The accusers’ words grow deafening,
As the lowly spirits of revolution sing:

Break the day,
Break the day,
Break the day,
Break the day.

Morning star,
Make a way,
[The] Blood calls out,
To break the day.
…

Wikipedia describes paideia in its original Greek-historical context as:” …training for liberty (freedom) and nobility (the beautiful).” Cornel West defines paideia as the “cultivation of an active, informed citizenry” (Democracy Matters, p. 41). It’s my hope that in my blog and in conversations with peers and friends, I can cultivate a little patch of paideia. I will also use the paideia tag, hopefully appropriately, in relevant posts henceforth.

The US democratic experiment is still very much in process. It can only be helpful for us–and posterity–to awaken to unbridled capitalism, narcissistic consumerism, and apathy towards our neighbor–all of which, to some extent, we are currently experiencing.

In many of the songs he writes, Brandon Flowers of The Killers isn’t afraid to self-reflect and in the process turn a mirror on America herself. In a song entitled “This is Your Life” from The Killers‘ new album Day & Age, we learn after some Socratic reflection that Brandon might very well be addressing the inheritors of the American experiment–you, me, us. His tone is unsettling at best, and seemingly deprecating (by calling us children).

Crooked wheels keep turning,
Children, are you learning?
Climatize but don’t you lose the plot
A history of blisters
Your brothers and your sisters
Somewhere in the pages we forgot
…
And the sky is full of dreams,
But you don’t know how to fly…

Let’s carefully look again at ourselves and realize that we too often have the best of intentions but shamefully lack a sense of paideia (not to mention emboldened action fueled by love for the other) that would otherwise enable us to fly in a sky full of worthwhile, democratic dreams–dreams of love, justice, equality, and freedom. Otherwise, we will definitely forget something BIG in the pages, losing the plot altogether…

I hope and pray that isn’t the case.

This just turns my stomach sour.

Talk, talking a lot, but it’s still talk
Gotta love how it’s somehow all on me
All the petty scenes
And all the pretty things
Say whatever you want
‘Cause I can laugh it off.
I can laugh it off.

unsettling sense,
who gently shakes
the preconceived.

turn, now, here?
to hint with flesh.
more can be done there,
no? yes.
affirm that which
was always there.

there, where smiles abound.
where the Presence
is there, in spite of the Absence.

present yourself, there.
sense it fast.
don’t absent yourself.
you know you’re right.

the true sense lingers,
rubs your shoulder.
conceives anew.

And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold. -Matthew 24:12

Children, it is the last hour. -1 John 2:18

i usually try to be coherent in my posts, but if i was it wouldn’t be reflective of my current state (whatever that is).

Come and see
I swear by now I’m playing time against my troubles
I’m coming slow but speeding…
Do you wish for a dance and while I’m in the front
My play on time is won
Oh, but the difficulty is coming here…

-#41, DMB

Strange evolution, how people have come to believe
That we are it’s greatest achievement
When really we’re just a collection of cells
Overrating themselves…

-Eh Hee, Dave Matthews

Aren’t we all to you just lost causes? 
Are we all to you lost?

-Fin, Anberlin