How to stay clean, in muddy waters.

July 22, 2017

 

But the most ready and apt metaphor for the suspicion to which the socio-bearing is subject.

 

Muddy waters’- confusing situations - of which one is less inclined to understand or deal with, and in the process of a writer, contextualising a perception of contemporary nowadays, here and now, in many instances portray theories formed from experience, and in context how they bear a moral resemblance to strangleholds with reaped cotton, so benign the nature humming “wade in the water children” is really none other than ‘Harriet’, telling the runaway to get off the trail so the dogs don’t sniff the scent out.

 


The latter resemblance is still these days now; it is realities consequence and still propaganda’s play thing, of which means substantial something as far the worlds intolerant racial climate is duly concerned. So an ambiance hence hot it makes little sense to sugar-coat how the world today is driven, obsessively, with an almost erotic intensity by the humanity of race; the question of how to stay clean, in muddy waters promptly reinforcing a primal consequence as opposed to have the time to indulge as to why, and what it really means to ‘stay clean’. Ultimately, and not so clear-cut, symbolically staying clean in an environment awash with muddy waters, in these quarters unreservedly alludes to a dirty hard not to be ruined by, a question a contemporary consciousness seems only duty-bound to ask, and with rolling coverage and social media perpetually persistent, popular consensus not amiss as to why the premise appears to state that any given character, may have to be part ratchet, and part sanctified to survive in the manic catastrophe of contemporary now.

 


In the spirit of transparency, admittedly dreamy visions of Garvey staring at me, at three of four in the morning whilst the falling dream appeared to be caught by a revolutionary song, in the spirit of necessary negotiation, whilst thesis’s, opinions, attitudes, ballads of love and early-morning digresses all speak of something else, the one trait their moods share is a reality; of which they know it best, accordingly a cultural backdrop to contemporary times demonstrating an environment to reconnoitre, consequently folks trying to stay clean, in effect despising the presence they represent ‘them lot’ strive under suspicion, London’s Grenfell Tower but the most ready and apt metaphor for the suspicion to which the socio-bearing is subject. And contextualising ‘neck-deep’ in modern muddy-waters, essentially what is emotively involved, innately wants to weave a narrative that will evoke the compelling nature of the assault on internally staying ‘clean,’ an intense aspiration despite the ‘necessary’ duty required of a race symbolically run by rats.  Accordingly, with the emergence in human society of this thing called the ‘State’ - the systematic establishment: the police, the Militia, the prison, the schools, and streamed images of Molotov cocktails thrown at the latest, all-encompassing summit layered with a grievance relating to the ‘have’, and the ‘have not’, be that as it may still not getting, whether it’s tweeted or croaked, or posted or left undelivered, consciously aware naturally reaffirms the detail of a naked imbalance across the world, live, edited, captioned and still propaganda's’ play thing.

 

- no turn up the beat, more the need of some elements- let's get back to some life-affirming elements -

 


Essentially; the runaway, 'Harriot', and dogs on a trail represents sympathetic to past interludes with organising the ‘community’ under ‘freedom’ banners, a reality still coming to terms with hitting a snooze button is the modern-day metaphor for despondency it really is- the quintessence not unsung, surly no story here to tell- same snooze button knowing it is unable to stop time, at best only delay it, thus the question of staying clean as relevant as how dirty is character willing to become, or not, knowing that to stay clean, at its roots is soul deep in a past that these days does not wholly understand, faced with a future that entirely knows no better- politics governing conditions, 9-to-5 and hapless security, crime, loins that misunderstands logic, the prices, the feral children and institutionalised as racist as it’s ever been- according to Utopian rhetoric come election day, followed by the most brutal consequence of the ‘State’, played out and standing for captured imagination to see, modern muddy-waters continues to stream a course of consciousness that demands more from a sunset, when “God's gonna trouble the water;” still is the syncopated punctuation in the last line of the original rhythmic refrain, of which still to this day remains the mood’s relationship communed unconsciously.

 

Being part of a group; the same group talking about how they need a beat, no turn up the beat, more the need of some elements- let's get back to some life-affirming elements- and intensity still encouraging aficionados to speak of just how wonderfully pronounced Grandmaster Flash, and the Zulu Nation was, talks of past the tree-bark fatigues that help hide ‘n’ seek blend in with the moral scenery, ultimately scared because the premise is never known fun, all very relevant, and let's see.

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