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Pullman 402
September 29, 2014
Rebels
They can't sit still for long
We sit and paint them
With bright, electric colors
Until they swell and float
Like balloons set free
We crane our necks
And watch as they
Disconnect from this world
We fear sameness
And in doing so, conform
World peace becomes
The thief of identity
Those green porches
They reek of complacency
Of defeat
The happiness is tempting
But we were taught that
Strangers and candy
Don't mix as well as
Security and fear
Pullman bred not rebels
But factory workers
The lambs of a godless church
© Greg K., New Lenox, IL
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Pullman Town, an historical landmark in Chicago, was an attempted utopia. I found the modern-day diversity and sense of historical pride amongst the residents incredible. It seemed like a sort of idealist communist community, which caused me to reflect on individuality and society's wariness of conformity.