It gets me every single time--that killer riff that opens Rebel, Rebel by David Bowie. I think it's common knowledge that I was not a rebel--save a few drinking parties I had to lie about. And, for the longest time the real message behind the song completely escaped my limited, naive worldview--one that is expanding at lightening speed lately. Even though the lyrics don't tell my story, the song is still one of my favorites and stirs up the desire to rebel against the status quo of ignorance, strict definitions of what is "normal" or "right," and a mean-spirited world.
This poem reflects that rebel spirit--my alter ego--my own little Rebel Yell.
She started off the quiet one
seen not heardshy and reserved
afraid of her own shadow
hurt by the taunts
terrified by what others thought
but a little flicker started
as she stood up for others
finding some power
in her words
typically kind and inviting
turned witty and biting when needed
the flicker turned to flame
sick of the bullies
tired of the social order
set by morons undeserving of admiration
the flame ignited a fire
she still fights for the vulnerable
and even sometimes for herself.
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