I am just a wild animal a fully feral little freak no different than the glowing eyes that flash under the full moon No more pretending that some part of me will find fulfillment in oppressive systems all human aspirations are cages that cannot hold me anymore Stop asking me what I want to be a garden snake has no goals only the visceral vindication of connection with earthly sensations can satiate me The gritty coolness of the dark soil the sudden heat of the sun that sends shivers I refuse to delude myself with foolish endeavors I reject this false notion called human
freedom
The Gift of Idleness
Paradise is promised to us through painstaking productivity happiness is hanging there just past more hard work It's shameful to acknowledge exhaustion after hours toiling in the sweltering sun no one dares commit the sin of sitting down swallowed up by the fear of being labeled lazy Capitalism is cleaver if nothing else convincing us to become our own slave drivers soiling our own perceptions of what it means to savor this one and only existence Linking the concept of leisure with sloth until we never stop moving for even a second losing sight of our right to be idle and enjoy the God-given gifts of this life Standing still is an act of shocking rebellion in a social system that expects you to burn your own flesh to feed the never ending fire of the economy and sacred stock market These collective misguided morals congeal making virtue synonymous with profit for the powerful a seed of shame buried deep within the conscience of every unfortunate American child Your blood is worth only as much as the oil that it can replace in the groaning machine of industry keep making the products you will always be too poor to consume yourself Trying to make us forget that stillness has been the wellspring of all great art and invention a futile effort to make us too tired to revolt they cannot choke off my awe of the open sky
Bored Without Work
I don’t know what to say to people that proclaim they would be “bored” if they didn’t have to work every day. I have to believe that I am just misunderstanding them somehow. They couldn’t possibly genuinely be saying that they are that empty, boring, and directionless as human beings. What do you MEAN you would be bored? I don’t think they grasp what that statement insinuates.
To me, when someone says they’d be bored if they never had to work again, it breaks my heart. Do they realize that means they have no personal motivation or interests to pursue? They really believe their heads are so empty that without someone else beating their back with a whip, they wouldn’t know how to move forward? They have no goals other than the ones set for them? I can’t imagine a sadder existence than that.
Also, have these people never been bored at work? I’m bored at work nearly 90% of the time anyway. Our system is set up illogically. We are forced to sit in offices for a certain amount of time regardless of how long it actually takes to complete the tasks we have for the day, leading us to actually be less productive as other (better) countries have demonstrated through shortened work days/weeks for their employees.
Maybe it’s more about the social stigma attached to not working. Perhaps these people have an image in their head that it’s either work 40+ hours a week, or literally sit on your couch 24/7 and watch TV. Capitalism has seeped so deeply into their psyches that they cannot fathom what it would mean to live for themselves. Maybe saying you’d be bored without work is a strange form of virtue signaling. I could never stop working. I have too much self-respect and am a motivated, productive person. I enjoy contributing to society. There is always the subtle insinuation that those who don’t work a 9-5 job do not contribute, which is obviously not true.
I personally think many peoples’ talents are wasted by the way our society is set up. I think I would be able to offer society much more value if I were able to spend my time as I pleased, working towards my own interests instead of struggling and exhausting myself in a structure set up by other people in which I simply do not fit. If everyone wasn’t constantly expending all of their energy stressing about money and working for other people, who knows what amazing contributions individuals would be able to make? Even if you already work in a creative field or are self-employed, wouldn’t it be nice to not have to take into consideration what other people want or what would make the most money? You’d be able to be more true to your own interests and creative ideas. You’d have so much more freedom.
It also saddens me to imagine most people seem to be unable to even conceive of activities other than work that would be fulfilling. Even if you enjoy the work you’re doing, like I do, I would still prefer to not have to do it. That’s not to say you’d have to stop either. It would just mean you weren’t dependent on it in order to feed yourself. Just that small change would inherently make the work itself more enjoyable. There have been studies that show even when you like an activity, if you’re paid for it, it becomes less pleasurable. Your mind begins to rationalize that you are doing it, not for the enjoyment, but for the money, which is less fun.
If you are someone who believes you’d be bored without the need to toil for our capitalist overlords, here are just a few of the myriad of options you could devote your time and energy to:
- Volunteer work
- Activism
- Learn a new skill/hobby
- Learn an instrument
- Study a different language
- Go back to school to learn about a subject you enjoy
- Make art
- Spend more time in nature
- Travel
- Spend more time with family and loved ones
- Workout
- Practice yoga/meditation
- Invent something
- Clean
- Home improvement projects
- Write
- Read
- Draw
I could go on, but you get the point. There are a limitless amount of things that you could do besides work! You really wouldn’t find any of these alternative activities adequate to keep you from boredom? Or are you just considering some of these things as work? If you don’t have to do it for a paycheck, it’s not work. I don’t mean literally any amount of physical or mental exertion when I say work. I mean traditional employment. There is a big difference between doing something because you want to and doing something because you have to, even when it’s something you love.
The Density of Suffering
There is this weight that presses me down into the thick clay earth the undercurrent of awareness of all the souls left unseen the immensity of the masses subjected to bone shaking suffering the surreal recognition of the world somehow still turning despite the violence that lurks just below the surface the colossal cruelty of humankind how can a system so monstrous continue to exist without consequence how could justice ever hope to tip the scales back from what we've collectively done what we continue to do the inexplicable gravity of grief overlooked and unacknowledged left alone with this deep knowing an anchor of unbearable anguish I am helpless to lift from those I love the gut wrenching screams of billions kept hidden behind closed doors cannot distill the poison these sins spill into every particle of air apparently no peace can prevail until we all choke
Character 3
Artifacts of bright laughter fingers tracing patterns in thick layers of dust Joy shackled to a clock love and freedom rations doled out in small doses light dancing unwitnessed in the sharp art of crystal shards hidden behind thick walls the hard geode of conscience endless eclipse, sun over moon arresting the rhythm of the tide absence of sound that suffocates sinking below the weight of still water last sparking static of stagnant energy the sweet perfume of slow death sickening spirals of fragrant fog escape open pores in the earth unsustainable pressure crushes my pearl into powder
Freedom
Love an enormous expanse of field is closed in a few playful bounds a sacred innocence we can all recognize the halo of protection found within a mother's unconditional embrace Curiosity big black baby eyes gazing from behind a fence cautious steps slowly closing the gap gently leaning toward the world beyond timid retreat into the shelter of the herd ever watchful and wondering Joy silent laughter embodied by the sight of swift hooves chasing geese through the tall grass at the edge of the pond the silly, light-hearted mischief of childhood the ecstatic freedom of first movements Grief the unending low bellow of a mother robbed of her beautiful new born child no form of personification could mimic the unbearable pain of this deep ache sinking into the bones of all who can hear Shame how dare humanity shun and ignore the inner experiences of other beings a disgraceful denial of the inherent value of life the relentless drumbeat of bound, bleeding hearts demanding their unalienable right to be free
God Bless America
This country is a cancer that disfigures the landmass of North America The natural wonders we once lauded in lyrics are defiled every day There is a special kind of shame that comes with celebrating years of injustice and genocide Gloating over our stolen home as we are still unearthing the dead bodies of native children The constant reminder of those that have died for us with un-ironic exclusions The bittersweet remembrance of a little white Christian girl who passionately loved her country A tiny heart that swelled with pride and gratitude for the red, white, and blue Innocence ripped away unveiling the horror of the truth Today is a day of mourning for reflection and repentance for the atrocities of our forefathers A god that would bless this nation is no god of mine
Last Rights
Insidious misogyny slithers through the sultry summer streets shocking in its pervasive presence across history and homeland It's human nature to hate what is strange and unknown to you but to harbor such hatred for your mother, your sisters speaks volumes, shatters speakers The incomprehensible nature of holding down half of humanity the horror of how many have learned to hold themselves down as well subconscious self-hatred As I prepare to celebrate the land of the free my ears burn with the echo: I have less rights than a dead body a dead body has more rights than me A corpse cannot be violated even for the sake of another regardless of gender death is truly the great equalizer my only opportunity for respect I may have protected myself from the violence of forced birth but I cannot shield myself from the knowledge that my only worth is as an incubator Each day I must immerse myself in a world where I am not equal play nice with my oppressors as they penetrate every safe space even the sacred shelter of my body The egregious insult of a caged bird being told it has autonomy my new daily ritual of mourning the innocent, trusting spirit that once believed it to be true
Capitalism
Capitalism slinks through filthy city streets with bloodied paws and heaving breath snarling at the huddled masses it had once offered hope There are plenty of those who still believe the lie we were all promised of possibility and upward mobility productivity and endless progress Hungry eyes follow trim and tailored suits down the avenue of ivory towers chapped lips mouth the words "if only I was good enough" from sallow faces with sunken cheeks The flurry of chaos a flock of flapping pigeons fighting over forgotten french fries idolizing the eagles they were told they might someday be The sickening inward momentum spurred onward by imagined sins stealing the joy out of simple pleasures productivity and profit replaced purpose long ago Corruption and greed infiltrate everything every soul a commodity to be exploited and consumed egregious inequality passed off as objective justice sour, scornful faces point fingers at the people who are suffering It's your fault if you fail the mantra of Manhattan sowing self hatred within misfortune the cruel optimism of the elite blame handed out as bread Don't fall for the fiction that this system is fair the land of the free is stained with red blood, green bills, and the rusty metallic taste of coins
Fixation and Focus
fixation and focus are very different things fixation festers and ferments multiplies and consumes the subject grows until it suffocates focus is freedom from distraction submerged in the present moment the soft flow of inspiration over a thirsty soul finally silencing all inner doubt there is no comparison between the two though they seem so similar at first glance one state we chase the other chases us