A slam poem word piece by Artemis about dreams – filmed live at Sheffield in October 2012.
Some of us dream big.
We have big dreams of big scenes involving nice things like a wife that sings our praises when our pay cheque raises, afford her diamond rings and brings home the extra nice bacon.
We reckon pursuing big dreams like having too much financial security in times of economic need is worth us letting others fight and bleed for a scrap of day old bread. I mean who cares when they’re already considered dead to the world?
We dream of having three holidays a year to cruise the world or snuggle up curled on the beach in Dubai, you know the city still being built by forced labour or ‘slaves’ as they were called in the good old days when the world made sense.
We dream of a massive garden surrounded by an electric fence to show off our immense variety of beautiful flowers but at a good distance. Only those who like us dream big can smell the fragrance those flowers produce.
We dream of our houses topped with roofs that reach for the skies, like a high-five to the sun who seems to always ruin our fun when we daydream of parading down Oxford street in London looking for the next fashionable item to buy. Because as we all know rain ruins everything.
But as we all really know it’s big dreams like these that ruin everything.
There once was a man who walked this earth and he dreamed big but his dreams didn’t involve suckled pig or unending dishes of caviar, truffles and fig, no, his dreams involved the dead and the dying. Those who were crying out ’cause they were riddled with cancerous doubt about the worth of their existence. You see, His insistence was love.
His dreams were born from above and included those left fighting for a scrap of day old bread.
He dreamt of social injustice being turned on its head, when a man would give up his bed for a stranger down on his luck.
He dreamt of a time when the phrase ‘buck up your ideas’ didn’t mean knuckling down at school but meant willing to look a fool befriending the ‘reject’ no-one else would call friend.
He dreamt of big things like bringing food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothes to the naked, love to the lonely, hope to the hopeless, breath to the lifeless and he didn’t just dream as big dreamers dream but he lived as big lovers live, living out his life for others to give every ounce of his substance for the bettering of his brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers.
His dreams weren’t selfish.
His dreams didn’t vanish with the morning mist.
His dreams didn’t stay in his age but have been being dreamt since the beginning of time, by men and women believing in their time it was time their precious time was spent on others. When barren women would claim orphan children as their own, when men would call those without a home ‘brothers’ and help them on their feet, when sisters would treat outcasts with love and care and when fathers would father a generation whose fathers weren’t there.
I tell you, these aren’t just big dreams.
These are God’s dreams.
Jesus Fellowship Church © 2012