Rock Out Like You Get Paid to Disturb The Peace

Worth listening! I have been listening to this many times a day since I found it couple of days ago. Nothing moved me since a long time like these words did.. This is Anis Mojgani and his spoken words. I choose these three amazing “poems” 1- Direct Orders. 2- Here am I. 3- Shake the Dust. and here are some lines i liked a lot from those three:

“Rock out like the streets are empty except for you, your bicycle and your headphones.”

“Rock out like you get paid to disturb the peace. Rock out like music is all that you got. Rock out like you’re standing on a rooftop and the city’s as loud and glowing as a river flowing below you. Rock out like the plane is going down.”

“Rock out like you just escaped an evil orphanage to join a Russian circus. ”

“Rock out like you’re enslaved in the south and dancing is all that you have to know who you are. Rock out like your dead grandfather just came back to take a drive with you in your new car.”

“Rock out like it’s raining outside and you’ve got a girl to run through it with.”

“Rock out like you throwing your window open on your honeymoon because you want the whole world to know what love is. Rock out like you just got a book published. Rock out like you just went to your high school reunion to find everyone, even the women, are all overweight and bald, except for the former homecoming queen, who you just found out, got divorced from her impotent husband and only has eyes for.. YOU! ”

“Rock out like Jimi has returned carrying brand new guitar strings.”

“Rock out like this was the last weekend, like these were the last words, like you don’t ever want to forget how.”

“the streets and the footballs which we once threw,
the school desks upon which we once drew,
the windows that sat open through we once flew,
before the outside world of parking spaces and dead friends came flooding on in
and we forgot what we wanted
and we became what we become: waitresses and bartenders, city employees and temp positions, we are junkies and one kiss poems and we cry the stars
as we write our scars onto dumpsters
and electric boxes
because the only thing that we can hear is our hearts
and the only ones listening are the streets ”

“because I know my life is like some high school kids notebook
a high school kid that shuffles back and forth between school and home
stacking the letters and the pictures too close for anyone outside of his own imagination to read
because it’s through the ink that his heart beats,
that his heart breaths
and we all just wanted to write these notes
check if you like me
check if you don’t
check if you’ll date me
check if you won’t
because we all wanted the love songs to be true
and we did love dinosaurs once
and we wanted the stars to hold our hands, ”

“What all of us wanted and what none of us got /What we all had and have and what we all forgot / That we all wanted to be something / That we all became something / And it might not be the shit we once though we’d be when we were kids but something is still something and like some cats say, something is better than nothing / Feet are smarter than an engine / And dreams are stronger than thighs / And questions are the only answers we need to know that we are alive as the time when I have the mind of a child, asking why is 2 + 3 always equal to 5 ? / Where do people go to when they die? / What made the beauty of the moon? / And the beauty of the sea? / Did that beauty made you? / Did that beauty make me? / Will that make me something? / Will I be something? / Am I something?”
And the answer comes: already am, always was, and I still have time to be”

“This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,
for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.
This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god. Shake the dust.”

“This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that is won’t come.
For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.
For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.
Do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.”

“for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.
For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers’ singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.
This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who’ll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.”

“the springtime that always shows up after the winters.
This? This is for you.
Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.
Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.
So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me. ”

“So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.
Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.
Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.
So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be.”

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