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"consumeristic" poems
My eyes have been consumed by the greed. I've ignored my needs and allowed my wants to lead. Have you realized how many fast food restaurants are on every block. Excess and waste of exponential amounts yet children die of hunger with each tick of the clock. We are so hurried and rushed.. deadlines upon deadlines until you reach your death time. time is money and even after you die you're still somehow paying. America is a free nation yet we are all still slaves to a piece of paper that holds a created value with the faces of our founders so we remember "tradition" and don't question anything. We've put a price on everything.. have you seen the cost of an engagement ring? Brainwashed by corporations and the mediums of media they control. Buy this, buy that. Try this, Try that. We have become obedient little dogs.. very few of us asking why this or why that. All obsessive over the latest and the greatest in consumeristic nonsense. I try not to think to heavily on what America has been for a while or maybe forever.. because it really makes me nauseous. It seems that the caustic conforming consumerism in this nation is a constant.
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
AmerICKa
Our ancient lineage contains folds encapsulating hidden wisdom unfurling at the weathered edges.   Curling inwards in attempt to direct us to the origin.   Source.   Deposits of insight lie within our bloodline, spiraling beside genetic codes we have carried through lifetimes.   The quickening has arrived, through comprehension acceleration and universal language of Love translations.   Verdant roots nourishing, allowing spiritual nutrients to enhance our brilliance.   We are Telluric creatures:Natural teachers essential to the transfusion of energy between the moon and the sun We are the ones, responsible for our is-ness magnification outgrow foundations we have constructed to keep ourselves from seeing past this self inflicted ceiling.   It has withheld us from feeling anything beyond this consumeristic dogma implanted in our society, force feeding us its enigmatic conditioning.   Detach pre-determined thinking to allow this ever-flowing journey of contemplating mysteries, abolishing worries of fear in the becoming.   It takes courage to assert ones self beyond what we have been taught,   to unlearn ready made thought and rewrite our own scriptures. Our ligaments are sacred scrolls awaiting our blessing, allowing them to unfold   leaving lacuna spaces for existence to experience traces of our essence.   Children of mother earth in collaboration with father time, the genesis of this breath has appointed us as divine, intertwined into a perfected geometric composition, we are creation curators of this generation woven into synthesis, mastered with our gift of presence, god-head recollection.
0
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Infinite Growth Spurt
Our ancient lineage contains folds encapsulating hidden wisdom unfurling at the weathered edges.   Curling inwards in attempt to direct us to the origin.   Source.   Deposits of insight lie within our bloodline, spiraling beside genetic codes we have carried through lifetimes.   The quickening has arrived, through comprehension acceleration and universal language of Love translations.   Verdant roots nourishing, allowing spiritual nutrients to enhance our brilliance.   We are Telluric creatures:Natural teachers essential to the transfusion of energy between the moon and the sun We are the ones, responsible for our is-ness magnification outgrow foundations we have constructed to keep ourselves from seeing past this self inflicted ceiling.   It has withheld us from feeling anything beyond this consumeristic dogma implanted in our society, force feeding us its enigmatic conditioning.   Detach pre-determined thinking to allow this ever-flowing journey of contemplating mysteries, abolishing worries of fear in the becoming.   It takes courage to assert ones self beyond what we have been taught,   to unlearn ready made thought and rewrite our own scriptures. Our ligaments are sacred scrolls awaiting our blessing, allowing them to unfold   leaving lacuna spaces for existence to experience traces of our essence.   Children of mother earth in collaboration with father time, the genesis of this breath has appointed us as divine, intertwined into a perfected geometric composition, we are creation curators of this generation woven into synthesis, mastered with our gift of presence, god-head recollection.
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Career churchmen, paid to guide lead new-found converts to abide in dull consumeristic stupor, promises of living water vanishing like desert pools and luring onwards thirsty fools who glimpse oases, there to find dry carcasses of humankind evaporation, drought and death. You think you found it? Save your breath. The springs of life become a puddle where theologies befuddle: muddy, stagnant, barely damp how different from St. Jacob’s camp where heaven opened in a dream— unlike this churchy marketing scheme. Strike this cloud we labor under ! Let it pour. Let Luther thunder. Where is Calvin’s sovereign grace and where the omnipresent face of Christ enthroned in holy splendor ? When will our divine defender clear the record, end confusion bring to a final, just conclusion Babel, His dismembered body— (can I get a witness, anybody?)
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Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
Mirage: My Rage