i have a friend who flew with the times

and plummeted to the ground as his pocketful of rhymes sunk and spat and became one with the earth--

the ground upon which we dream still engraved with his words

now, let's step back fifty years ago, take a few--

when a peace monger in a civilization of subjugation led a revolution

some may call him lazy for rebelling in bed and some may say his own intelligence got to his head

but when it all comes down to it, why does it matter? 

he gave peace a chance as a twentieth century martyr 

but fast forward to december when all was set in black and white

when new york transformed as day was enslaved by night

and a soon-to-be assassin

(content with exhilaration)

stood with quiet disposition and a loaded rifle in hand

unaware of his own plan

and it was as if the earth froze mid-orbit and the clocks stopped ticking as the bittersweet beauty of chaos invaded the savage mind--

and suddenly, happiness was a warm gun--

maybe it's just me, but i find it ironic

that a proclaimer of peace is shot down by a bullet

it wasn't the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last that violence prevailed and a martyr failed--

and maybe i shouldn't say failed, because to fail means not to succeed

and his fall succeeded in inspiring people like you and inspiring people like me

because dreams weren't just dreams to this man, they were plans--

and i can't help but wonder how many of them would have flourished had he stuck around to make one last change that caused another changed that caused another change that would be that single catalyst the world needed to become a better place--

he knew that fighting fire with fire would do nothing but fuel the

flames and life is too damn short to tend to flames so i think it's about time we put out the fire before the entire forest is scorched--

can't you see the futility?- love, my friend, is all you need--

and that, that is a promise from me to you--

if everyone would let love in, it would show in everything we do

so just close those juvenile eyes of yours and imagine--

after all, we'll be the leaders of our generation

and just ten or twenty years away are we from domination

so i'll give you this for contemplation:

let's start today, let's start right now

let's start by firing shots of compassion

and burying hatred rather than bodies in the ground

let's drop verses instead of bombs and let animosity burn

and make sure our kids don't have the pity of growing up without a parent

as they leave with no guarantee of return

i've seen it- i've seen war through a kaleidoscope embellished with pride

and it took my father's life ending in an alcohol addiction caused by post-traumatic stress to realize that it's not ok

it's not ok

so let's be like the man who saw all the good in the world

even as he was killed by the bad in it

and the more i think about it, dying young seems good to me

as long as i live fast and give my soul to nothingness without the slightest plea

if what i'm saying seems impossible, that's exactly the problem

because what thinkers of the past had back then is what we nowadays lack--

the willpower

the motivation

the spirit

the determination--

so let's bring it back

let's add to the dream

it's never too late to die defending a cause while refusing to let out a scream

i had a friend who believed that the power of music

could dismantle any gun

so before you call me a dreamer, know that i'm not the only one.