Someone asked me what my favourite things were on Saturday, I can’t remember what I said now, having time to think about it I realised, what my favourite things were;
Coffee shops, conversation and Brandon Stanton. I didn’t mean to mess with the alliteration I was creating, if anyone doesn’t know; that means my C repetition. Brandon Stanton, created Humans of New York, he then told the stories, of those in the Middle East, the truth is, I learned more about people reading a paragraph on Facebook, written by him; then I did anywhere else.
Because he wrote each word, and underlined it with dignity and truth, with meaning and grace.
Something entertainment journalism, is at times void of,
why is Kylies lip kit more important then that boys story, or that girls, I don’t know?
Can you tell me. Help me understand how a person can make thousands off an Instagram post, taking a picture of themselves.
Perhaps they could use that same lens, to reflect.
You may be thinking why is she writing this, what is she on about, is she doing some sort of poetry;
Well I logged onto Facebook this morning, and read a letter Brandon wrote. Underlined with dignity and grace, it made me think.
We’re all so desperate to stop the hatred of the world from crushing us, we hold up the beams as they fall,
but even if he wasn’t running for president could we stand tall, why don’t we catch the world before it slips, why are we all up and arms now.
If you ask me my main question is how, how did he even get to this point in the race, what is the world coming to, how.
How could someone think, that hate was the answer. Have we not learned anything, have we not learned anything.
Back to Brandon that role model of mine, he goes into these environments, he tells these stories, something we all cannot do.
But we can understand, that we all belong in this world, with purpose.
No person can prosper under the dictatorship of hate, it stems from fear does it not. Fear of what the world could be, if we loved unconditionally.
Perhaps we’re all just living with wool, over our eyes; I go into that coffee shop, do I think about those miles away, who’d kill for $4.5o.
The truth is no I don’t – not all the time anyway.
Caught in a web of expectations, broken by realisation.
Thats what we are, I guess. Break free.
Thats what we must do, that guy in the presidential race, he has nothing to do with this poem, because he ain’t worth talking about, really.
Brandon, he is worth our words. Because you’ll learn more from a shack than a gold mansion.
Ornate details hiding, hideous natures.
Men slaves to their riches, thats all it is.
Go drive your Range Rover into oblivion, do you think you were put on earth for that action?
There is nothing wrong with having money, there is nothing wrong with any of it.
But something does go wrong, the moment you think; that car is the sum of your worth,
less people might listen to me.
But I didn’t rehearse; there is nothing planned about how I speak, its passionate, its sincere.
Unlike you, your words are hollow, written on the same carbon paper, your money is printed. You could use that same money, to help a child,
you know the one, he is hungry, she is homeless.
She could have been you, understand this, respect this.
Because we’re all equal our worth is the same, no human being; greater then another, this knowledge, we must gain.
None of this is fair.
It is not right, that people like Brandon even have to write these letters, it is not right.
Why does a person even has to take the time, to speak life and love.
I would’ve thought, we’d all do that.
How did it get to this point, where hatred even has a platform, olympians on a podium.
No winners, as far as I’m concerned.
As long as this goes on we all lose,we are all responsible, in some way.
Next time I get coffee, I will think more about my $4.50.
I am asking you to as well, we may not have money; but we have voices, we have actions actions.
The worth of which is priceless, no money or power controls this.
I can’t fathom how this happened, the world is not meant to be in factions.
Gold mansion? Bulldoze it. Take the ego while you at it.
It is not until you see a kid walk, talk, move for the first time you realise.
What it means to be a human,
Compassion, spirit. Human.
We are meant to love each other unconditionally, no matter what the TV broadcasts,
tear down hatreds platform one kind word at a time.
Beckons of light we will be, creators of an active ministry.
This is what we learned, I learned; from Brandon