Working On a Revolution, Revelation

Where is our Martin Luther King Jr.? All we have are our heroes that are worth millions. Rock stars, actors, and athletes to look up to. We worship people who have already won and not those making a stand. They have tattoos, they have this they have that, they are so counter-culture when in reality they are culture, our culture. They are all bullshit. These people are as bad if not worse than our enemies. Corporate sponsored and packaged to sell. We buy it up like pigs feeding on gruel ready for the slaughter. We look to them, we look to dollars for a change. Have you seen our money? It hasn’t changed in so long, and yet when it tries what do we do? Bitch because they want to take a genocide inducing asshole off the twenty-dollar bill and replace it with dear God a black women. Could you imagine? Honoring someone who risked their life for a chance at freedom for others. A hero by any other name is worthless. We should keep the monster on the twenty dollar bill, it’s more American that way. I’m getting off point here.

We spend so much time latching on to this trivial pop culture bull shit that we fall right inline. Hash tagging stupid shit to let them know that we like their product and spread their word for them. Fucking seriously? Your dumb ass product splashed on to every available space wasn’t enough? Now we have to talk about it for you? Drop your pants and put your genitals in my fucking mouth. No it’s okay I don’t mind the fucking taste, tastes like Coke or Pepsi or whatever other bullshit you are trying to peddle today. Can you imagine the days of the snake oil salesmen? The days where they had to come to your town and trick you into buying their bullshit. Those must have been the days. Now there is so many snake oil salesmen attacking you from all sides that it is hard to even see them for what they are. Coke not only sells carbonated sugar-water, but they have their hands in milk, juice, and water. Soon I imagine they will have all this rolled into one super drink. Looking forward to it because really all the tastes are getting well, a little bland.

Ideas are weapons and don’t be swayed into thinking that they aren’t. Told to fear the man in the dark, but they have all been out of the shadows for decades. Manipulating our every move out in the open. I’m not going to go name everything because honestly who has the fucking time and because it is too late. We don’t waste time crying over spilt milk because it’s already spilt, but we do make sure not to repeat the same mistake again. Or so we say. But really we line them right up to do it again. I want to bash my head into a wall. We need to fear the ones that tell us how to think. The people who say you must not think this way or that. You need to think for yourself. Take in the information and make a decision on whatever the fuck. I know that could take a lot of time, but if we stop hash tagging how much we like a fucking drink we might find some lost time there. Same as if we stop bombing the living hell out of other countries we might have some money for you know education, the elderly, or the starving people in our streets.

Books have no true face, they can’t cast judgement on those who read them though they may try. It is the people at the top locally and globally that cast the first stones. If you need something to fear I am more than happy to be that for you. If you need a devil in your life, I’m not afraid to be that for you. But we need to turn this all around somehow or some way. I know that we can never stop the hate, but maybe if we give up hating each other long enough than we might be able to get somewhere. #gofuckyourself

So It Begins

My mind is a steel trap that holds everything and nothing at the same time. I can’t remember your name, but I can recall every dumb ass thing you did up until this point. A gift or a curse, it is all that I have. A memory for stupid shit that no one seems to care about. Like the time in fifth grade when the kid shit his pants in the back of the class or the time in gym class when the girl got the shuttle cock stuck down her shirt during badminton. Stupidly pulling her tits out to retrieve it as well all stared, or maybe it was genius. Either way she was legend after that. She was noticed and someone, if not everyone, cared. Always remember never forget. Tiny moments that make up a life time. The tiny moments come back to haunt you, but the big ones are always there. Chewing On Glass is about the little ones. When they come back to haunt me that is.

One eyeing it on the way to work sober, sad this is the norm. The emotional drain of doing the same thing every night is called life. Told we could do anything. The lie keeps us from killing ourselves, but don’t be fooled we kill ourselves every day. Risking our lives for a dollar and a day that most of us, the ones that truly need it, will never know called financial independence. But at least on holidays we get time and a half, so that’s something Of course not everyone is so lucky to even receive that. We all belong to a collective noise all saying the same thing, “Follow your dreams.” The dreams keep us going even if they will never come true. What if my dreams are to watch the world burn?

Figuratively of course the smell of burning bodies would get pretty nauseating very quickly and the screams. I don’t even like to hear my neighbors beating the shit out of one another, so I couldn’t even imagine how annoying a thousand plus screaming people would even sound like. All seriousness aside though. I’m not a terrorist, a loose term thrown around for shock value, or a bad person. I just see all this kindling sitting there in our society and I think all it needs is a spark. One tiny flash of light to set the whole thing into an uncontrollable inferno, and I wonder why can’t that be me?

But could one tiny spark really set this all into total chaos? Can words really change everything? Am I prepared for a world left in ashes from the comfort of my office chair? Defiantly wouldn’t be anything to bitch about, and that would suck. I mean could you imagine coming home and having nothing to say? What a waste of a day. Maybe there is a reason that not all dreams come true. There I go again talking myself back into my chains, back into slavery.

Honesty will only get you hated. The world doesn’t want freedom or change they just believe that they do. What they really want is more of the same. More shows about people like them, more stories about people who go through the same shit as them. What they want is to feel as though someone understands what they are going through. When we are all going through the same shit. Over and over and fucking over again. They say that they want one thing, but in truth they want the exact opposite of that because the human race is too stupid to realize what they want. I don’t even know what I want.

I fit right into the puzzle and it makes me sick. I hate myself for it. like a good whore it is only after I’m done that it dawns on me. That I am as much of the problem as everyone around me. Mob mentality doesn’t leave room for dreams. Only hands to keep you tethered to the ground.