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"consumerist" poems
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born, Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism; So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya; The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion, Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture, Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress, M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd. This consumerism and **** consumerism, It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor It is the avaricious tube which siphons back The hard earned money from pockets of the poor Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
END MONTHS CONSUMERISM
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born, Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism; So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya; The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion, Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture, Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress, M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd. This consumerism and **** consumerism, It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor It is the avaricious tube which siphons back The hard earned money from pockets of the poor Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
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30
Wake Up Wretched World, I assert my Indigenous heritage I self identify With the ancestors of my continent Identity afraid to articulate Culture, unknowingly belonging to me Cycle of shame now shattered Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire europeans plundering my mother Latin America In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment Has been engineered through the mestizaje Of my Indigenous forefathers How could I not forget my lineage When the historical legacy of modernization Has been to massacre the consciousness Of where my people really come from Erasing indigenous pride Making Paisano and Indio Synonymous with poverty and alienation Insulting the humbleness State of hunger you've left us in Original lineage within me disturbed So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment Not white, not indigenous? Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit Constantly driving them off productive land Because they choose to assert their identity Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing Waiting for them to make barren lands productive So you can take those lands too Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America 21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Indigenous (Abducted Consciousness)
Wake Up Wretched World, I assert my Indigenous heritage I self identify With the ancestors of my continent Identity afraid to articulate Culture, unknowingly belonging to me Cycle of shame now shattered Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire europeans plundering my mother Latin America In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment Has been engineered through the mestizaje Of my Indigenous forefathers How could I not forget my lineage When the historical legacy of modernization Has been to massacre the consciousness Of where my people really come from Erasing indigenous pride Making Paisano and Indio Synonymous with poverty and alienation Insulting the humbleness State of hunger you've left us in Original lineage within me disturbed So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment Not white, not indigenous? Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit Constantly driving them off productive land Because they choose to assert their identity Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing Waiting for them to make barren lands productive So you can take those lands too Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America 21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
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37
remember to always follow your dreams. starting this conditioning early instills the message so deep that you're never quite aware, that in order to follow your dreams you must first remain asleep this is how they've created generation after generation of obedient, self absorbed, consumerist sheep where nothing is more precious to yourself then the possessions that we keep conforming to what's cool owning the newest technology and never looking cheap join the hottest trends, stay in the loop you're rising high on the social ladder a fall from here is awfully steep the fear of this fall turns you into a materialistic creep these social constructs we all need to together break or no one in our western society will ever truly be awake
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
awake
We use video games To make video gains Until the screen goes black And reality attacks We lose all our progress In the deletion process As we level up we devolve Around the TV we revolve The more experience we gain The more moments we lose Our memories forever stained When this is what we choose Our life inside a hard drive Our life becomes a hard lie We revel in being unwise Rage quitting life We enjoy strife And avoid pesky light When we live in the dark With consumerist plights We are all marks Video games balance in a zone Between game and art The frustration starts When art is confused for games And games mistook for art People take things to heart And spitefully spew viper venom If this is where games send them Then why do we play? We have no other way To feel accomplishment In a society that worships competition Video games become the second edition Of a life filled with loss On our pixelated cross We are murdered millions of times Reminiscent of the millions of lies That make us losers in the real world Video games become our shiny pearl The computer displays defeat When our lives aren't complete Because we need someone to beat Not realizing our lives are conquered By frivolous topics we've pondered Our meaningless life squandered And hope comes in the form of new releases While inside our faulty headset is in pieces
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Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Video Games
The bus rumbles on, it is an over crowded one - not an unusual sight - she stands in the space reserved for women, there's hardly any room to breathe. The broadcaster on radio shows off her gift of the gab, a popular film song follows; a gush of wind through the window brings along smoke, dust and other such components of 'city-air'. She looks out to see impressive malls, entrances to which, witness beggars pursuing well dressed gentry, in the hope of a penny or two; billboards advertise latest discount offers appealing to her consumerist instincts; constant honking of vehicles, music blaring from an auto nearby - these are common sounds she is accustomed to. The bus halts with a jolt, she steps down, tries to make her way, through the crowd avoiding hawkers lunging at her from every side, eager to make sales; the smell of pakodas fills the air, autos carrying seven or eight passengers limp away, surreptitiously, at the sight of khaki clad men. Out of the blue, an elbow knocks into her chest, she turns to look at the lout - lecherous eyes mock at her impotent fury - she mouths standard abuses, walks away as if unruffled. For this was not the first instance, "Won't be the last either.", she thinks at the back of her mind, her heart chooses not to agree though. She moves on, pushing, shoving, cursing her way through 'Battleground India'.
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Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 3:08 AM UTC
Life in a Metro
I bid you all a fond farewell As these bones turn to dust in capitalist shackles. No more will my voice be silenced By gender roles and repression. My foremothers gave me my rights nearly a century ago And you still act like it’s pocket change. No more. I will rise above this consumerist nation And be heard. Feminism means equality, not women over men. Don’t take offense when I lock my car doors. You’ve proven yourselves untrustworthy. “Not all men.” But enough men. I am not backing down; I am not giving in. I am breaking free of conformity, Barely comfortable in the skin you told me was imperfect. Flip-flopping your beliefs; I am never good enough for you. But I will always be good enough for myself.
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
I Am A Feminist
**** your consumerist "holiday." There is nothing special about today. I might be bitter, about being alone. Again. but, I don't see the point. Cheap little cards, ****** candy. Why? For love? No. For money? Yes. Valentines day is not for you and your sweet heart. It is for the corporations. Selling their confections, their cards, their lingerie. Bet it doesn't feel special anymore, Does it?
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Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
Valentines Day
Does it sting you if I tell you, you're a ****** a thief, and a liar by association? Sure you've been convicted and you wear your prison tags with pride This is not a tale, this is not for your entertainment, I'm talking about you! Wearing your abercrombie and fitch, am I interrupting the call on your iphone! Sure what you buy has been cleansed to hide the stench of blood and sweat Do you know where it's made? Do you care about those who made it? Think you got it bad? Wait until you see factory workers cry! They can't because their tears dehydrate their malnourished bodies Your thinking its alright to be at ease, better think twice Panic, your self-preservation is not safe, your body's agency will soon give way Living in ghettos, urban centers, metropolises, seeking comfort among congestion Depositories for the excesses of humanity, fresh produce scarce, drugs plenty Commercial, social, fashion districts hiding alley ways and misery
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Criminal Association (Consumerist Agency?)
How I feel when you say That To me it hurts so much Bloodsuckingly good intentions I pull out all of the foreign angsts of past lives You are forgiven But not forever Because you'll die No greed left in your bones Maybe some sarcasm, definitely irony But none of that consumerist **** Nothing you had Not people either Your life's worth...  nothing My anger wasn't ******** No It was sane
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Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC
[The Meaninglessness of] Forgiveness
i listen to Dubstep music and sip tea i am the Post-Mark Pondering Gender politics and finishing my tea i am non violent, a pacifist But don't put it past me that i won't clench a fist With righteous grist If you make me feel alone in my considerations temporarily i'm not a weak soul am hardy folk Hardly lost faith when i realised God was a joke Like a big fat egg yolk splattered all over paper Christmas hogging 3 months of calendar A Consumerist campaign, but tell me i'm the miser Police tend to pass me in the streets, i think smart Skin colour ain't the first part One of the mainly white audience at the Public Enemy show The system as it stands fears me though If you stop and searched my heart you'd **** me though i Listen to Deep House and sip Lucozade Lost deep in this house i've never worked hard at a job So **** lucky at birth to have wealth But that's my parents money (and I'm not in any way responsible for slavery) Kanye West with his Confederate Flag **** "I'ts mine now, what you gonna do?" Little did we know that we were the 'New Slaves' Contemporary thinker, i read the game cover to cover After all they taught me from birth how to study i'm too uninterested in ticking boxes to earn money To satisy the transferable skills that you want from me I'll Enjoy a nights alcoholism instead of getting high and writing an essay Am I getting too wordy? i'm trying to spit now, can i? can I? The gender politics on my mind at inappropriate times i told the guy at the door i wasn't thinking about race Most people are thinking about 'the race' White Middle Class kid picked up a mic and tried to rap again... I listen to Hip Hop and drink water Hardly faded I'm perfectly sober I'm energised naturally, words seem to strengthen me I am the grassroots, I have been wrongly righted My Parent's deserve this so want me to sit tight But I'm jumping right into the middle of hip hop (and feminism) And theres nothing you can do about it. [For All My ****** and All My *******
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Response to Lord Jamar's Comments on White People being 'Guests' in Hip Hop
i listen to Dubstep music and sip tea i am the Post-Mark Pondering Gender politics and finishing my tea i am non violent, a pacifist But don't put it past me that i won't clench a fist With righteous grist If you make me feel alone in my considerations temporarily i'm not a weak soul am hardy folk Hardly lost faith when i realised God was a joke Like a big fat egg yolk splattered all over paper Christmas hogging 3 months of calendar A Consumerist campaign, but tell me i'm the miser Police tend to pass me in the streets, i think smart Skin colour ain't the first part One of the mainly white audience at the Public Enemy show The system as it stands fears me though If you stop and searched my heart you'd **** me though i Listen to Deep House and sip Lucozade Lost deep in this house i've never worked hard at a job So **** lucky at birth to have wealth But that's my parents money (and I'm not in any way responsible for slavery) Kanye West with his Confederate Flag **** "I'ts mine now, what you gonna do?" Little did we know that we were the 'New Slaves' Contemporary thinker, i read the game cover to cover After all they taught me from birth how to study i'm too uninterested in ticking boxes to earn money To satisy the transferable skills that you want from me I'll Enjoy a nights alcoholism instead of getting high and writing an essay Am I getting too wordy? i'm trying to spit now, can i? can I? The gender politics on my mind at inappropriate times i told the guy at the door i wasn't thinking about race Most people are thinking about 'the race' White Middle Class kid picked up a mic and tried to rap again... I listen to Hip Hop and drink water Hardly faded I'm perfectly sober I'm energised naturally, words seem to strengthen me I am the grassroots, I have been wrongly righted My Parent's deserve this so want me to sit tight But I'm jumping right into the middle of hip hop (and feminism) And theres nothing you can do about it. [For All My ****** and All My *******
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44
Parliament's headquarters--Back alley for smokes n' such. Politicians deliberating on the bread and the butter While the starving go hungry and the Truth begins to suffer. Never point to the signs on the wall 12 steps, Denial before the fall. Consumerist, zombie shuffle back to the car, the market's full up. Look for the polyethylene creamer. Metallic coated groceries For the plastic (PORTIS issued) consumer. "Coke is it" they would say as they take the morning grind (black/two sugar.) Racists make the sea of Policy makers and warmongers, Bathing in other's poverty, hunger and pain; Fearing death before the climb, G-d before the fall Slashing at the necks of basilisks until they turn to stone.   Blind and petrified to the core, I swear God, Parliament will smoke no more. Comes along the Harbinger, you've got one new message. Message one, There is no god, only me. I'm your Hypocrisy. Cry to an empty thought, kid the kidders, sin among sinners. Shamble back to Parliament's sanctuary, the legislators are in, Let Smokes n' Such begin.
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Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Neurological Toxin (Or Internal Struggles with God)
It's hard to understand A Rockstar with a drug problem A Literary type with wine tasting ability A business man keen on social sense A Lover craving spiritual connection and growth Layers of fallen leaves in autumn Piles of gold and red and orange Football fan with a blue jersey Homeless but with a vigil eye For those who try to hard An addict to anyone who loves Caring to much to touch Love that comes unbound All too quick and all too much I am all I write above Some of it lies....  to myself A dove with a heavy heart singing in my mind Flying for a shelter of like-minded doves. But who am I this time? Rockstar, Lush,  Lover, Addict, Salesperson I am a writer, or so I think... Especially when I drink I am all those things I am assertion Of life with many layers Like other living beings Like tree rings Something you don't see till lacerations Cut the skin, cut the bark Personality bleeds out That's why I run to the closest person Not the best And I doubt it'll work out She doesn't understand I'm a Rockstar, Lush, Lover, Addict, Salesperson Consumerist soul raging against itself Artist running faucets of stealth Hiding behind words And guitar chords She doesn't understand what I am. A dove with a heavy heart singing in my mind Flying for a shelter of like-minded doves. An addict to anyone who loves Caring to much to touch Love that comes unbound All too quick and all too much
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
Hard to Understand
Although I hate how wrong this ridiculous sense of common we have for everything is, Sometimes I just wish we were these two ignorant people That think the world is wrong but we can't change it And work hard just to buy a bigger TV Sometimes I just wish we could live a mediocre life together And never mind to all the things that happens around Since our favorite show is reprising saturday night I wish we could fight every day to decide who's going to supermarket And what color should be our new car And fight over and over again about if we should buy a dog or not And stay up late playing scrabble with our boring married friends Sometimes I just wish we were these two empty consumerist people That complain about everything and fight everyday about nothing But are so so happy Together.
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Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 5:19 AM UTC
I'm such a hypocrite for you
in a city of shifting faces we become forgetful about life in different places succumbed to a world within a world. construction and history poverty and misogyny; the city is lost within me and i am lost within the city we all suffer the internal blackholes of everyday life in a city of anonymous faces, we take no notice succumbed to a world within a world where only our world matters and we wonder what's for lunch whilst thousands live homeless and the irony of wondering why so many go hungry in a city of greed consumers consumed by consumerist propaganda all the shifting faces we walk past on a daily basis bigots, fascists, racists and we are wrapped up too engulfed by our own lives to care about others but selflessness is only selfless if not done for self, but i was told "no good deed goes unpunished" but we should do good anyway because in a city of shifting faces be the face-shifter who stops turning pages and pauses -- take in the scenery and be alive for every moment; it is okay to be a passer-by in a city of nameless strangers but never in your own life
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Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
cities & faces
by Arcassin Burnham Society wants to keep bending us over and have their way, Like cracks in the living room, throwing Molotov's at the windows, let it burn, we must not only take back our america, But we must stab the man where it really hurts, Aiming Mack 11's At park benches, the news feeding us consumerist garbage and false Submissions, tumbling Over cars just for fun of independence, We Must Fight Random Acts of getting the messege out, too much desperation will bring too much doubt, No brotherhood, Just the enlightenment Of seeing them Fall is all, so **** your arrangement, **** your penny pitching, And **** your cold world, We Gotta do whats right for our world, Do whats right for our people, Do what the great people that made america what it is today Would have wanted us to do.
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
"Enlightenment" (HP Crime Spree Challenge) (Frank Ruland Challenge)
she never intended to spit out buildings or spew smoke into the atmosphere she didn't dream of rush hour she could've had so much power light years away she stays hidden in dismay every time, disappointed her telescope pointed at more earthly disarray and the galaxies surrounding her could never compare to the earth that she dreamed to become the earth we will never see the stardust that was ready to seep through her pores but we blocked off her skin we cut off her wings and stars can't shine if they're covered (the most difficult thing to do is simplify your life and detach yourself from the consumerist, industrialized society we've become. to identify with a place, you must love the land. and to love the land, you must connect with it. fall in love with the natural, simple beauty of your country and of countries and cultures around the world. nature's a gift and many of us never end up unwrapping it)
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
mother earth
I will never be like you Consumerist pride and corporate lies Drowned in greed Watching the less fortunate bleed Selfishness, prideful bliss I will never submit I will never be like you Drop the act Before its to late Destroying humanity Drivin by your vanity
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 3:55 AM UTC
Drop the Act
On row DH30A102 Buddha is seated, meditating. Underneath him in dust covered boxes a dozen more radiate enlightenment, waiting to be shipped out and sold for 29.99 at your local store. 'Surely the fatman will give our house a unique Zen feel to it.'
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Buddha And The Consumerist Dream
No thanks ,I'm actually not In the mood to slug on ;To slip on someone elses shift ,Perpetuate a cyclical consumerist paradigm .The product is stale and sickening ,I'll stick to my own .
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
Untitled
If Santa saw us now, His copious joy might melt And stain his white palace black. Oh, if the jolly fat man saw us now, Our black bells ringing scarlet, The white snow-globe flakes flowing ****** And the consumerist ******* Selling love for slick green and silver; Oh, if he saw these rabid dogs, Chewing flesh and spitting bone for an iPhone, His joy would end right there. If Santa came down off his throne, And saw our minty venom saturating sacks Staining toys meant for joy, His steel boots rusty from snow; Oh, with this glance he takes upon us, Witnessing a competition of hate, He’d scribble his two lists black, And his red joviality would pierce homes, With death, And holiday.
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Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
The 25th of Destruction
Today, we bear witness to a post-industrial, consumerist wasteland, under whose all-encompassing totality is subsumed the autonomy of the willing subject, who becomes but an interchangeable gear-wheel in a global machine of production, distribution, and consumption. Individuality is paradoxically mass manufactured, as personal identity is increasingly governed in the public and private spheres by the accumulation, consumption of, and aggregation of preferences relative to commodities. Possessions become both indicators of social standing, and pieces of the psychological anatomy of the individual. Advertising lends itself handily to these ends, playing on the insecurities of the consumer. Products are often advertised as embodying desirable qualities, supposedly lacking in the target buyer: "If you want to be more feminine, wear this perfume;" "If you want to be more masculine, drink this beer;" "If you want  to be more elegant, wear these clothes," etc. Perhaps more troubling, however, is the rate of success of these tactics. In light of this, the questions emerge: are our lives a fabrication? Beneath these tangled webs of associations, who are we really, and if we weren't told who to be from such an early age, who might we become?
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Aphorism I: Mass Culture
*Discouraged, I silently wait- Anticipate the cultivation of a new surrogate slowly weighing down the corporate weights Generations have died We need not new worshipers- Though we preach and preach of new ways of life The articulation of a stealthy misguided population Rooted deviously within our realm Subliminal dis-figuration is cognitively calloused Deeply punctured inside the root of our thickly stems- This, the way of the world The capital effect Leaves one hungry, starving- and dastardly thirsting for more A consumerist mind-set Correlates abruptly with this generation of "non-thoughtful thinkers" Consumption of supply Regurgitating of demand Are we senseless- Or just sensible in cultivating this disheveled war on our possessions possessing the rights of man? Are we grasping at this misconceived dream That we can live long and dream the dreams we feel we're destined to achieve? We are the result of the reality we create and strive to be Don't be a commercial- Be your own documentary © 2014 Christina Jackson*
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
The way of the world
Visions of mystics that I surely didn't see, But genuine was the mother of an ancient love— Funny to think of it all marred in equal parts spiritualism and consumerist ******** And all of them ignorant to the Kansas City memories they conjure.
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
6 o'clock Blues.