The Lovers Cried, and the Poets Dreamed

( – promoted by buhdydharma )

Fifty years ago, on February 3, 1959, three young musicians were killed in a tragic plane crash.  The lives of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and Jiles Richardson ended on a dark winter night, their voices were silenced.  As the years passed, as the darkness of a long 20th century night of conflict and injustice deepened, too many other young voices were silenced.  By war, by oppression, by disillusionment so deep it emptied their souls and left them mute. They withdrew into isolation and despair, the drums of war, the drums of greed were too loud. The music of democracy, the music of justice could not be heard.  

A long, long time ago…

I can still remember

How that music used to make me smile . . .

Purple thumbs in Iraq.  Red, white, and blue thumbs in America.    We vote, but nothing ever changes.  The music of democracy, the music of justice is still not being heard in the corridors of power.    

In Artists of Resistance, Howard Zinn emphasizes the political importance of poets and painters, singers, songwriters, novelists and playwrights.  They speak to the world from their hearts, with a timeless message of love and peace. They believe that communicating universal truths on a deeply personal level through compelling music, poetry, and prose can unify humanity.  Nothing else has.  Nothing else ever will.  Politicians aren’t going to change the world, no matter how much they talk about it.  But artists and musicians can, if enough of us listen to them.

Imagine no possessions,

I wonder if you can.

No need for greed or hunger,

A brotherhood of man.

Imagine all the people,

Sharing all the world.

They said John Lennon was a dreamer . . .

But he’s not the only one.

There are seven billion people in this world, seven billion dreams, but the foundation of each individual dream is the same–we all long to be loved, we all long to be respected, we all long to live in dignity, we all long for justice and peace.

But the wealthy and the powerful don’t care about our dreams, they don’t share that common dream we all have. Taking more power, accumulating more wealth is all they care about.  

I met a girl who sang the blues,

And I asked her for some happy news,

But she just smiled and turned away.

I went down to the sacred store,

Where I’d heard the music years before,

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.

He was lying.  Corporate conglomerates bought the sacred store long ago, they sell weapons there now, and pay him well to lie.  The music of democracy is still being sung, but the economic and political elites in their pulpits of power aren’t listening to it.  They just say they are, they just keep making their empty promises, and the media elites go along for the ride.  

And in the streets, the children scream . . .

In the streets of Baghdad, in the streets of Gaza, in too many streets, too many times, for far too long.    

In ancient Egypt, in the midst of war and corruption, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed of a better world.  In ancient Greece, in the midst of war and corruption, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed of a better world.  For millennia, lovers have cried and poets have dreamed of a better world.  But the blood has kept flowing, and the politicians have kept making promises, and the preachers have kept preaching the greatness of the God they worship and the absolute truth of their religion.  Their tongues have never stopped wagging in the tabernacles of Jerusalem, in the mosques of Mecca, in the megachurches of America.  

Tell me, self-professed men of God:

Did you write the Book of Love?

Do you have faith in God above?

Does your “faith” come from the Bible or the Qu’ran?

Or is it just the noise hypocrites make so they can control the sheep they preach to?

Too many times, when war and injustice have claimed their victims, the preachers of this world have been silent. They have looked the other way, they have not condemned the warmongers and oppressors in their own lands, they have not spoken truth to power.

Not a word was spoken,

The church bells all were broken.

The church bells were broken, and they’re still broken as the crises and chaos and killing go on in our time.  But the dream of humanity for a better world isn’t broken.  Not yet.  That dream is still being dreamed, by lovers, by poets, by artists and singers and songwriters.  They speak for us, they’re speaking to us, listen to them, men of power.  At long last, listen to them.

We may never see an era of peace and justice, but if it ever comes, it will be because people in this world of war and greed finally listened to the words of truth and wisdom artists, songwriters and poets have been writing and singing ever since the first blood was shed on the first battlefield, ever since the first lovers cried, ever since the first poets dreamed of a better world.