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Artist Info
Name: Christoph Alexander
Location: CT
Piece Title:I don't really know what it is...
"But it's us."
Piece History: I wrote it for myself after being somewhat let down by a few of my favorite artists... they had the potential for greatness, and threw it away for a cheap gimmick. And they're kind of who we rely on. ...originally published in my personal myspace blog on 5/30/2007 (which can be found here.)
Medium: electronic text
Artist History: poetry since i learned how to write, songwriting since i learned how to write cursive... never played sports much... getting into filmmaking the last few years... ongoing concept pooetry series called The Devil Plays Poker being published in COMPLETELY irregular installments here.
Personal Comments: We all need something to relate to in something that is completely foreign to us. Our humanity is what keeps us all united as humans. So if you didnt/cant find it in this poem... please keep reading. and looking. and listening.
How Did You Find Us?: I don't know if i count? im like a non-practicing brigadier... i found out about the ezine through rose's blog, but i got more info from the boards. plus she told me to submit something when we were at the bon jovi show. (WHICH RULED!)

I Don't Really Know What It Is...
"But It's Us"
We're a generation raised by school shootings
We're the children of the age of terror
Our teenage rebellion was against the hippies
Our role-models carry guns and sell crack

Our high schools were goverened by G. Bush & Co.
We had no civil rights once we turned eighteen
There's booze in our lockers, there's hatred in our hearts
And it looks like we might never fit in

We're all so sick of working jobs that we truly hate.
And money's so low in our system of values
We want to do what we love, to hell with the rest.
And smoke cigarettes cos we don't care.

We're all going to die of cancer.
Cos only Africans die of AIDS,
And everything else, there's a cure for...
And we smoke cigarettes cos we don't care.

We've had our fill of lies from the mouths of those in power.
We've had our fill of lies from television.
We've had our fill of lies from all those who ought to matter
We've had our fill of lies from the liars.

We're a generation raised by cellular phones
We're the children of txt msgs, who invented youtube,
We were raised by .com, and technology
And abandoned by both.

We're all on myspace, we're all on Facebook.
We're all made up names, we're all information.
We haven't climbed a tree since middle school.
We haven't played on playgrounds in a year.

Our parties are above-ground pools, or dank and beery basements.
Our photos are all digital, our albums? Witty titles.
Our food is fast, our liquor strong, our minds are getting number.
We think shooting coca-cola is a lyric by The Beatles
Or Aerosmith.

We'll be trapped inside the suburbs, as our country's prices rise.
We'll be buying smaller cars with every oil hike.
We're the last touring bands without horses.
We're the last middle-class to fly in planes.

But maybe then, we'll have time to find Jesus.
Maybe then, we'll have time to make Love.
Maybe then, we'll find we're doing something that we really like.
Maybe then, we'll have time to Make Love.