Heeey! I'm back. Sorta. Kinda. I guess.

Anyhoo, i've typed up this speech - derived from a recent English essay - and I felt brave enough to share it with you guys.
It's about wanting liberation and a peace-filled world. It's about many, many things which I feel would create a better word..but, hey, to each his own.

I hope you guys like it. Oh, and we were told to write it in a similar form to a famous speech, such as I Have A Dream - Martin Luther King, Hope... - Charlie Chaplin and many others.

I chose Chaplin. I made it my own.

Here it is..

Embedded Quotes are in ' ' and consist of the following poems:

John Agard - Inglan Is A Bitch
John Agard - Checking Out Me History
Grace Nichols - The Fat Black Woman Goes Shopping
Grace Nichols - The Fat Black Woman
Benjamin Zephaniah - The British

Hope...

I'm sorry if I want liberation, but that is my way. I'm sorry if 'Inglan is a Bitch' – that is not my way.

The world is brimming with the opportunity to 'give justice and equality to all', yet we leave it understated and passionless. The world we accommodate is brewing with 'an unequal spread of justice'; but there is space to 'give justice and equality to all'. We don't need to exchange 'slimming glances' - 'Allow time to be cool' – nationalities should have the path of unity 'carved' out for them. Let them – us – mould together and become one. For a chance to blend histories and mold civilization together, we must approve of the mass 'identity' we see all around us as the glue.

Let this one soul have a pulse. A pulse derived from the human heart. Its chambers should bleed continually the language of all; the ink of each ethnicity should stain every vein. We will intrude the implausible with wisdom – traverse across 'freedom river' and expose the hidden amongst 'the wounded'.

A pandemic wound will soon heal, lest 'An unequal spread of justice damages the people' of this 'rich' world.

The infidel will squirm under our feet – we are of iron. We bleed 'justice'. Blades of grass will slash the air of cruelty and specialist alteration. We can change the world with mere tongues, or better yet, heady steadfastness. After all, actions speak louder than words. You do not cry with words – you're muscles do. They bend, contract, forming endless frowns. Like a size '14', muscles stretch, but even they have a limit.

So breathe. In harmony, in eternal unison. Breaths mingle; languages fornicate and create a new timeline.

But, how can we? I regard the 'unity, understanding and respect' we have in this moment in time, and see we are choked to death – the windpipe of nations and liberation is cut off with a slick knife.

This knife is called pain.

Violence drips off this knife, and the puddle which hence forms is called the generation of today.

We should wipe it on a clean cloth – a blanket of unity, of acceptance – not a chemical-induced endeavour that 'leaves a bitter taste'.

Potential to love has gone out 'de' window. We've gone astray. We speak in derogatory forms.

Let us rewind, rewrite history itself – let colours of our generations traverse across a 'hopeful stream', into a promising 'freedom river'. Drink from it. Live it.

It's liberation that soothes pain – black or white, covered or exposed, embrace validity in each step as it creeps through your blood; struggle against derogatory cuts so that you may feel accomplishment.

Let the people of the world seal this pandemic wound with vibrant unity.

Become one.

Leave a chaste kiss on your past – inhale the future.

Hope...

Thank you.

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