Spoken Word University Alpha Test

A Social for fun prose commentary poem.

Good day,

      I'm unprepared to be of any potentially valid use, at least that's the common position for most witnesses whose eyes half open, the lidless inner observer surely is entirely asleep save for moments of deepest shame or that of momentarily inspired fear, that peer through the black, no future, sheep discoloured with loneliness dust window upon an artist left over long to his endeavours without a kind word from those who 'supposed love him.'

    Just like most people, I too grew up with Lego in my hands, crafting minute trinkets from pre-made instructions from the box. The problem is that every child that opened that same set of Lego that jingle jangled ever so slightly as they shook it on Christmas morning, was about to build the same thing.

     The instructions weren't for creativity, they were for process, to help us with the transition from building from pages at home to accepting information preached to us in schools where we're taught to follow schedules that would need to submit our whole lives to in order to achieve some measure of 'security and comfort.'

    Somewhere along the matrix green over black screen text of Lego creation by due process a strangely dim creativity had been ever so slowly spawning in the near twilight dark of the right hemisphere of my brain. I began creating Star Wars space dread space naught flag ships, the X-Wing to the Millennium Falcon, I even took on larger projects like a Star Destroyer (Though it ended up half blue and grey, I ran out of the grey blocks... *Sadface*), from there I moved on to Blizzard Entertainments hideous malignant deformed monstrosities that threatened to end the existence of humanity that were the creatures of Star Craft.

    Like most people from early Generation - Y, whose parents claimed to be hippies but were so strict you felt relief when heading to the next village over to go to uni, I was told to put down the Lego, set aside my dreams and grow up. Stop trying to be what you had always wanted to be and start achieving success in the landscape your grades, tests, assessments and teacher comments had laid out for you.

     Go to uni, 'ace it,' then get a job and climb the clearly undefined, yet structured, ladder of life's rungs until such prestige or, and more commonly I might add, security in comfort is found. Then, maybe, just maybe the black letter's spot of a stain handed down to your creative wolf in sheep's clothing from the captain of your ship called home, might accept you again; but only if you're successful enough to have achieved security and comfort.

     The artism, delirious mental disease that once threatened to end your career before it began has thusly been thwarted. Sad is the state of Sandcastle Earth, yet the passion to cultivate and execute our various artistic endeavours now thrives in our veins. We have procured our will for dreams, instead of achievements in the social, no one noticed, stigma that is was and always has been, a silent resurrection of bushido lost in our society today, a class system of tiers wherein rains accomplishment, monetary security and social success.
 
     So pick back up your Lego dream blocks, it is time to solve the equations surrendered from your dreams to give attention to the social puzzle. However slowly it comes together for the realization of your creative idea, that may have simply started as a fragment of a thought, begin to expand on that origin source concept. Eventually the Alpha program of your creative interpretation will begin to manifest itself and a beta test will begin, the riddle can only say as such for so long before the convictions of your dreams become reality, however small.

In earnest anticipation of,