Last Call America

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IhqYu8RRlk

It's last call America, finish your scotch. It's last call America, your clean shaven boys in their twenties, thirties, and forties don't drink scotch anymore, and they sure don't let sweat from rocks abandoning the glass dampen dirt beneath manicured fingernails. Say your prayers America, before an atheist with godlessly good lawyers topples your temple of worship. Drink up America, you are getting fucked, and the morning only promises the grim clench of a regretful face and mistakes made in the night.

Take two more shots, quick, before the drive home America, deaden the pain, go comatose for the boys in blue, because when they peel you from the wreckage, your whole body will be the same color as their uniforms, even if you climb out unscathed. Buy a lawyer America, spend money to delay the inevitable incarceration, the clammy cement of a sleep on the rock bottom, because you feel absolved of crimes attached to the lifestyle of a destructive lush.

Blame the Republicans America, blame the Jews and Democrats, the media, the spics and crackers and niggers. Blame the youth, the teachers, the leaders and the unions, blame the rich, the poor, the unemployed, underemployed and billionaires. Blame the failures and successes, the taxes and wars, the trade deals, blame it all America, but it's last call, so you drink up, and refuse to blame yourself. Curse the bartender if you must, but tip accordingly America, because he's been putting up with your hateful bullshit, and you scaring off all the good customers with your drunken nonsense.

You're card was declined America, you ran one Hell of a tab, you told a Cherokee he had a drinking problem then threw up on yourself. You owe your home, your job, your dreams, your promise, and most importantly, your word. So pay up, because it's all drunken babble and it's all just a way for you to escape what you owe. The TV told you it was OK, Hell grandma told you it was OK to escape, to deflect, to bury yourself in the pointless finger-pointing and endless gripes of a divided nation on a fifty year bender. Curse em' all America, whine like the soft spoiled brat you have become, blame the blackout on your tab, it doesn't change the fact that the binge wasn't on the house. Don't cry America, I didn't do it, I just said it, a cab is on the way to take you where you sleep. They will drop you off at the corner of Censorship and Fear. It's OK America, you won't die, you have been choking on your own vomit for over a decade and still manage to stumble in to the Stagger Inn, and hassle your favorite bartender, fate.

The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming!

While contemplating the (lack of) benefits of fame the other day, I realized, nobody really gets more than fifteen minutes of fame. The longer fame lasts, the further privacy falls away, and the more accustomed you become to worrying about judgement from imperfect critics as opposed to self-reflection. Even if you're famous for a lifetime, in the real scope of time, you will be forgotten very soon. The son of God made a visit to Earth, and forgave all of mankind for their sins, and only 2012 years later, a majority of people in the world doubt he ever existed, I mean, Jesus Christ, what does someone have to do to get some respect around here?

 It is human nature, to not believe in what you do not witness. Do you actually remember the Cold War? Most people in their twenties or thirties don't, even though it was a defining moment in U.S. History, only few decades ago. Many currently in the U.S. educational system believe they know everything, but see the Cold War as another part of History that without evidence simply, "won't be repeated". Well folks, time for a lesson of constant in Political Theory.

Many in top political positions make decisions based on their belief in Realism, and the idea of looking at countries around the world as threats, ones who must be outdone competitively on both economic and military levels in order to maintain Independence and legitimacy.

If Realism is the way of the world, nations will always be aiming for the top-dog, which in current times, is America. America is young in relation to other failed governmental experiments throughout History called "Nations", "States", or "Countries", and has only held sole dominance over the world economically and militarily since the late 80's and early 90's, during the collapse of the Soviet Union. This was seen as the final blow to Communism. The problem with our assumed victory in the Cold War is that Russia never really left, and Communism never died. It waited, kept allies, kept building weapons and homes, kept vast borders rich with natural resources, and still, during it's "collapse" had more money, people, military might, technological advances, and industry than a large majority of countries in the world.

Russia is back. Ex-Kremlin and KGB hold an overwhelming amount of political positions, Putin has successfully given the country a new face of political suppression, another grim Russian face without emotion, one that represents the country and people dictatorially, and their economic ideology of mixing government and industry has been successful enough to cause many American leaders to abandon the U.S. economic identity of "Laissez Fair" in order to craft a dismal, and desperate copy of Russian economic policies.

While we see turmoil domestically, Russia has gained power and influence through it's ability to successfully build diplomatic relationships with American enemies, such as Iran, but also has built strong economic ties with countries whom combined, have economic strength that dwarfs America's when combined; Japan, China, and India. Recently all of these countries made agreements to avoid use of the U.S. dollar in massive trade deals, which if anything, symbolizes a general agreement among these nations that the U.S. is in a serious state of decline. As a direct show of force to the U.S. and NATO, it was reported today that Russia, China, Iran, and Syria are going to conduct allied war games on Syrian soil, a soil currently stained with the blood of it's citizens.

As I type the Federal government is funneling weapons, communications, and money to opposition groups in Syria to help overthrow the Assad current regime. Those with campaigns funded by Israel and weapons industry interests such as John McCain, call for direct U.S. intervention in Syria. This is a Cold War stand off, one we have not seen the likes of since The Cuban Missile Crisis, especially when considering our military involvement in multiple surrounding countries; Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, and Libya. Combine this fact with instability or paranoia in the region's most important assets to America, such as Israel, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt, and there is a tectonic sized elephant in the room; this is how world wars begin.

The Ottoman Empire is in chaos, during a time when Western Civilization is weak, when the promise of Democracy is failing because the selfish and crooked keep finding themselves in positions of power inside of America. We are being attacked on all fronts. Our government stimulates war in the Middle East because Americans are running out of sand to bury their heads in.

Communism, and other countries around the world are beginning to see an opportunity to climb towards their own hegemony of the world, in the constant chess match between power-lust, the story repeated throughout History...a race to control the rest. The European Union is falling, the U.S. dollar is crashing, and the peon nations of the world who have fed off the U.S. taxpayer nipple for decades are quickly showing us that friends you buy are not really friends at all, they are parasites and bandwagon jumpers.

A short time ago the arena thought Russia would never come back, though it's been around for the better part of a thousand years. Even a thousand years is a short stretch of time when looking at the bigger picture, the seeming permanence of the world, and it's inescapable doom. In the real scope of time, The Berlin Wall fell a real short time ago, and those who remember that day never real took their eye off Russia, it is the failed education system and the younger generation that forget and overlook the Soviet Union. The American scholastic realm has no memory beyond current times, even though it is an absolute that some day, even the Sun will burn out. Because of this, soon, our beacon of light shining down on the rest of the world will too.

If we keep electing leaders whom sell us down the river for military contracts, foreign trade deals, and U.S. countries moving money and jobs across the world while seeking large tax breaks and access to the U.S. consumer market, the only question is whether our light will first be smothered by an outside presence, or blown out from the inside by the careless, the same men whom took an oath to keep it lit.

Wish I Was There

I know I can tell, Heaven from Hell, but can't decipher blue skies from grey, there is no free feel when it's covered by a veil, empty smiles and long, drawn out miles, waves of trees crash into hillsides and valleys, rushing through the center of a doorway afar. How I wish, I wish I could step through, but can only look outward like a fish in a bowl, a hero kept out, with his nose pressed against the glass, waiting and praying, constantly delaying, how I wish I was there. Two lost souls, ghosts from the wall, free from the same old fears, rave of the doorway, and the soothing sense of simply walking through. You can drive for miles, through charred forest, scorched Earth, city lights, and cancelled flights, but still, the doorway taunts from afar, outstretched visions from strained eyes and peering observation catch only a glimpse. The doorway hides in the center of all landscapes and thoughts, canvasses and plots...how I wish I was there. I sense home is on the other side, and no living soul can really break through, we can only wonder and imagine, waiting for our fate as we are strung along the detour of life. We chase and pursue, yet fear what's on the other side of the wall. We fear the trip, the ride, the doorway, the end, thought it may be, our only friend.

Sympathy for Apathy? Pathetic.

Wise blind men in tales of old wander without guidance, navigating into the thicket of what beckons the bewildered heart, as those lost in the bright screens of harsh chips squint to decipher daily lies conjured from the mind of a fool's jester. All men are blind in times without kings, where the shrills of drunken banshees stumbling around the Court echo into shadowed timbers and musty brick roads. Regal ceremonies sparsely fill high ceilings illuminated by candlelight, as beastlike men turned braggart cheer and laugh away horrors of blood shed and lives lost, in a time when daily hangovers nowhere compare to the brutal nature of existence. Gallons of sweat moisten tilled Earth one bead at a time, rolling off the face of a sickly man, wasted away to the frame, stuck on the range of unfair debts and savage torture. Primitive is the idea of ownership of life, in a deal struck upon a handshake and stack of paper, fragile enough for ink to bleed and base decompose in steady rain. The peasant coughs and wheezes, living only days beyond the body's ability to wear itself down through disheartening labor, grinding bones, tasting mud, gritting dirt, blistering hands and feet, straining the mind with lost dreams and hope, beliefs unmet by brighter days. Fear of the imminent and punishment for lethargy trumps the peasants will to brace for the inevitable and sacrifice itself for a breath of free air. The same shades of gray, new songs of blue, we give our only worldly gift, consuming our hour, all upon a world turned sour, under clouds covering the frown of a mighty unknown, from which we will always cower, it growls with anger and shame, as we mindlessly give away our only worldly gift, to assumed power or fame, unattainable in the very name, of that which is unknown. The mind of a peasant is empty, their spirit is broken, life within dies long before the clock stops ticking. Swarms of working corpses breed, and feed, off fruits undeserved, and land reserved, for those who refuse to be molded into anything other than the naked and free, servants of nothing outside the smile and wonder of that which is unknown.

The Runaway Dock

Pull apart curtains of fear, let them slip beneath blanketed leafs rustled by unknown footsteps. Let go of the inevitable, shortcomings of our ancestors rest in invisible hands, trembling as they brace fragile twines of the interwoven, rooted in the obscurities of proud tales and grand times.

Shiver not in the face of doom, brandish grins and songs. Laugh, love, let go. You will never win until you let go. Puzzles of knowledge and existence await, lend your hand, solve the riddle, pry open the chest, open the door. You won’t know what’s on the other side, and never will without courage to peek.

Reach the summit, ignore directions, diverge from paths laid before your feet, climb with vigor as you pass outside doubt. You can make it through the storm, look ahead, hunger for triumph, revel in the pain, know that you will both survive and die.

Drift carelessly down the winding river of time, dip toes in the clarity of flow, you will reach your destination, it waits more impatiently every day, make it wait; you are free, until you vanish outward into the great delta.

Money Lust

It's what the fighting's all about, shout, drunkenly wave money in front of bartenders, hoping to buy their attention. The quietest guy with the fattest wallet is the drunkest.

It cost 663 billion to receive 497 casualties in Afghanistan, it cost a dollar to buy six yuan, eighty yen, Elliot Spitzer spent eighty-grand on nude friends. Your favorite baseball team, sitcom, movie, website, road, song, all stalked and interrupted for a commercial, why do something you want when you could be spending money instead of time?

A fourth of all hard earned money is taken by officials who spend it on things people don't want or receive, to put the voter in jail, to force the voter to pay public debt, to make the voter pay the IRS, to make the voter pay for war, to give the voter a DUI or speeding ticket, to tell the voter what they can and can't do, to remind the voter of this, to threaten the voter, to oppress or beat the voter, to mace or tase the voter, to shoot the voter, to convict the voter, to put the voter to sleep, to tell the voter they can't speak.

Tax season, right after Winter, is the coldest of seasons, when people are forced to recollect on their year of money, wasted or invested, fill out paperwork backed by the modern debtors prison, while the nation is bankrupted and busted, while the taxpayer has lost their home, their car, their job, their sense of purpose, their pride.

For an hour of cleaning a strangers fecal matter out of a metal pipe you can make twelve dollars, for playing pretend on a TV you can make twelve million. Twelve million dollars will make girls sleep with you, make people worship you, make people reflect on themselves and wish they were you, though they don't know you. Houses too big to heat, dinners too big to eat, guests too small to greet, money lets you treat others how you wish them to be treated.

It can turn your grandfather into a cosigner, and your cosigner wants nothing to do with you after debt goes unpaid, regardless of the blood, the memory, the bond that existed before the bank turns humans into shape shifters. Money can buy happiness, it can end marriage, it can put a price on human life, it can cause people to kill, it can cause people to enjoy killing.

Everyone wants it, nobody understands it, most people are indebted by it, money has bought slaves, money has created slaves, money can free slaves, the all-powerful paper, falls apart in water, burns in fire, blows away with the wind, its existence relies merely on an agreement that it exists, though we are not always convinced we exist, money will exist after us, though it is us who create and give value to money. Money will bury you.

We spend 70% of our lives working and being forced to do things so we can make enough money to enjoy the other 30%. If you work hard and make lots of money you can retire, after you are crippled, wrinkled, paralyzed and old. When you are too tired to do anything, you have made enough money to quit. People quit a lot sooner, unable to realize they have given up, sacrificed their dreams, their love, their life, for something that is nothing. The very essence of existence handed away for something that does not fulfill, does to create, does not explain or give life after death. Money can be buried but it can't follow you, sell your soul, play the guitar, get some money, spend eternity broke.

Have fun, enjoy your vacation, constantly spending, always lending, sometimes sending, and forever trending. Money, the biggest mind fuck of all, happy hunting consumers and entrepreneurs, ignore your families, your passions and the nature of existing, you can make more money if you just focus, keep working, keep aspiring to fail.

So Long, Sanity

For all of the wasted clenched fists, the self-censorship of correct and polite, the tame driver smothering the angry bastard thirsty for another fix of fuel injected danger, the seeker who will never find the fire extinguished by a neutered society, and every free being trapped inside the idea of what they have to do, I say, so long sanity.

Fuck youre grammar, your avoidance of the first person voice, fuck your pre-writing, your plot and your work, fuck your manners, fuck your pride and your memory. So long sane writing, you have given nothing but insanity.

Hello taboo, how I miss you. Drink and drive, take drugs, tell people, rip apart others to protect self. Don't care about the starving, about nuclear weapons or the prison system, or making a name or being successful, become absolved.

The sane play by the rules, they are handed loss, but what if they refuse? Deny the obvious, expect positive consequences from negative actions, never remember, never care, never feel, is it insane?

Is poetry sane? Is it art? Is it a short story or a philosophy? It doesn't matter, it will be forgotten, in the billions of minds across the world, these words don't even exist, they float aimlessly through a digital dream world, where nobody reads but everyone sees, nobody thinks, nobody analyzes but everyone knows. Is creating something that never existed sane?

Thought is insane, standing on the ledge is insane, sex is insane, cigarettes and unbuckled seat-belts, all but two political parties are insane, angry black men are insane, so are angry white men, so are angry rich women, and the happily homeless. Christians are insane, so are Muslims, Jews are insane, and communists, and socialists and capitalists, all are six pennies short of a nickle.

So long sanity, I depart from you, though you are nowhere to be found. You've wasted my time, my breath, my tears, my life. You are impossible to achieve, and while others strive for you, I say, so long.