Never Enough

In a capitalistic system. The game is rigged so that there is never enough. You see we work ourselves into the ground. However, every paycheck highlights that there is not enough. We continually come up short. Believing that running on a rat trap is somehow freedom. Again, I say Fuck Capitalism. It corrodes and causes sickness. So, I say that in the midst of realizing that there will never be enough in a systems that relies on that premise. I left with no other alternative but to recognize that resistance is the only choices for those who have no had there humanity sold. Fuck Capitalism

Fuck Capitalism

I say Fuck Capitalism! Fuck the way that it forces me to live. I am not interested in a cog-like existence but what else is there. The means that will allow me to live are in the hands of capitalist. This realization leads me to the belief that I will forever have an adversarial relationship with capitalism. I cannot accept this notion that life should be relegated to time clocks. Where my worth is connected to my ability to be productive. Productive in the sense that I am making wealth for someone else or spending my income that again makes someone else rich. So, I am anti-capitalist. My response to capitalism is a human response. It is evil that has been unleashed on the world and resistance to its evil proliferation is ultimately human. Fight Back. Fuck Capitalism

out of words

I might be out of words. I am blessed with the chance to speak and engage in the world of ideas. The reality is that maybe I have no interest in talking forever. That these problems will exist because they are conditional to this existence. Or more conditional to this existence in the abstract. My life, the limits of my experience can be something radically different. However, how do I understand that difference? How can I make my life different? This is the fundamental question. It is not about what I can convince others to do but what I am willing to do myself? To not hide under the masquerade of the crowd. The crowd has capacity to simply make fear seem courageous To make conformity to a life that yields nothing other than survival as the goal or the limit of what we get from this life. What does it mean to want more? How do you get there?

versions of truth

All we are just pushing versions of our truth? Seeking confirmation from others that we are on to something? It is difficult to deal with the uncertainty so we struggle to seem to certain of something. Are there answers? You see I get that there are determined answers in math in science but so much of life seems lived in the gray. So, in this grey I feel like nothing absolute other than the desire for something absolute. I am absolutely sure that I have no answers. So, at times is seems like life is sitting down with missing puzzle pieces. I do not know what the original picture looked like. Or am I simply the puzzle piece. That it hard to accept because of puzzle piece is simply an object and I feel deeply that I am more than that. However, if we were puzzle pieces it would make sense because of the desire to control others.

I think I was looking for something. Wow, a weird sentence that may lack conciseness but it reflects truth. It reflects the my journey. The search for something to interrupt the mundane. To feel something even if it flees before it presence becomes normal. I search for so many things in the midst of so many distractions. But to grasp that which is real is the goal. I crave that which is authentic in a land of fabrication. Maybe, I am the phony? Have I truly grasp anything that I truly wanted or have I simply settled for that which has found its way into my arms.

suffer

Why do people suffer? I am not sure there is an answer for that. At least not one that soothes my soul. It seems to manifest on every corner as people have ended up in places of pain. I can't justify pain. So, I am not content with personal choices and accountability being the hallmark of why things work for me and maybe not for others. There is nothing special about me. It is precisely this myth that allows for me to sleep through the pain emanated from street corners .

craziness

There is craziness in that cleaned up spills still leave the residue of stains. Some stains remain ingrained in the fibers. With every fiber I struggle to remain hopeful. Hoping that eternal tales of a better life are not more lies that serves as a subsitute for present day change.

conquered land

It is difficult to live on someone Else's soil. You see at times it feels like blackness is forever homeless. Are we doomed to be nomads? I crave soil that feels familiar, that loves me. Am worthy to be loved? Or will the stories I have been told about blackness confine me? It can be so confining looking for free territory in conquered lands. As those lands are littered with the landmines of indifference. Even the language of god seems to be filtered through white ink and as it dries on my backdrop the question becomes how could I not love them? How could not covet their privilege? How could whiteness not become the dominant themes that set the tone for what I define as acceptable?