Exploitation.
Exploiltation.
Exspoiltation.
We mangle words,
we mangle people,
concepts explored,
money made
at great human expense.
The market is happy
but it makes no sense.
Like meat left to rot,
we spoil
for Dollars and cents.
…
Humanity debased.
Lives destroyed
wills crushed,
possibilities gone,
beautiful things desecrated.
Capitalism:
the world is a poorer place.
…
The place I am from,
we don’t have washing machines:
we do it by hand.
…
In between the signs, hand-made placards: “Nothing makes loneliness more beautiful than schizophrenia” and “I’m a simple Martian and attack what I see”, God smiled, pleased with His creation, made in His image, and creative in turn.
At the other end of the human spectrum, the police (always eager to please their man-made masters) arrested some of the marchers.
“Oh, the humanity!” a dog growled.
…
Distractions, infractions,
modern day Red Brigade splinter factions,
destroying your purpose and goal,
such as it may have been,
now just a memory,
as you gaze blindly at the blue dot,
mesmerized,
and forgetting,
your forsaken destiny.
Welcome to life AD 2016.
Always other people,
violations, complications, circumstances, compromises.
Everybody wants a piece of you.
Everybody wants to screw you.
Switch off.
Turn off.
Tune out.
Exhale and escape society.
Release.
And…
how beautiful it is to take my shoes off,
expose the soles of my feet,
coolness, breathing fresh air, peace
and Godliness.
…
Your life is testing,
like free-verse haiku quandries,
rarely understood.
…
The masses are asses,
as they say in all the classics.
Behind the scenes,
strings are pulled, faces plastic.
…
Lies, lies, and exploitation.
Democracy is a dangerous illusion,
a perfidious panacea,
like Madison Avenue and Hollywood –
cover your ears
and shut your eyes during the advertisements –
the sharks smell your blood,
they come from near and far…
Fear progress and development.
…
Ignore the influential voices, the catchy jingles,
Lust and lies.
They want to waste your time.
They want to bleed you dry.
…
A man gets out of a van, he has a clipboard and an air of self-importance. Loudly he calls my name…
Beatnik.
Sputnik.
Muttnik.
Refusenik.
High art, pop culture interpretations, history, rocket science, street dogs, saying yes to who you are, and saying no to who you don’t want to be. … Screw compromise – let it burn up on re-entry! Never to be touched by human hands again. … Perhaps ultimately we’re all destined to be space junk.
Yes!
I love it, I’m not offended.
Peace out.
…
