Precious is the time we have together. The time on this earth. Its but a short dance in the scorching and cynical sun.
“The days are long and the years or short?” Says the man who made me.
We run from the moon because scientists are looking for an excuse to sleep in. Dont take your vitamins, sell your guns, drug your kids, leave your wife, and live on instinct and primal lust. We are not of this world but we are on this world to feel the good feels.
We are the pleasure monkeys `Aubrey Marcus
We have devasted our airs, waters and places at the behest of our forefathers. Given over our nation to profits, radicals, little kings and queens.
Now the sun is too cold, the earth is too hot, the right-wing is wrong and left is right. The masks pillage and burn for justice.
They tell me I am the confluence of raging oppression. They tell me my skin makes me guilty, my anatomy, as well. Then they call me racist and sexist before heading back to class.
The world is cold the block is as hot as a stove `Common
Mother is power. She is angry. Many believe her tufts of white hair to be stirred by God himself. She cries tears of rage and screams. She shakes us and burns us. She is only getting angrier.
This is the name I have chosen though you could call us many things. Though the clouds are thick we see beyond them. Though the small machines of this age are loud and confusing, we put up food. We stack rice and play nice. Look to the sky for answers then get to work on our own.
We are are a product of this world. We are foresight. We are mocked and we are mimicked in quiet. It’s all changing.
Now even the tallest man is struggling to keep his chin above the floods.
We shout the answers, “Self-reliance! Independence!”
The Oracles of the Palm drown us out. SEO, SMH, and ASMR guide their thoughts and put them to bed.
We are the whirlwind.