Playful primates

Is this our definition of work? Not using hands… to grab things. To hold and to throw. To pick and to rub together with our fingers. To climb a tree, to use legs to clench and to use the upper body to lead through a branch. To swing from it and to land using our arms as a cushion against the ground. To walk boundless without any walls. To live in a spell of peace with sprinkles of territorial quarrels and battles. We now create walls to repel it, but fly over them anyway… and have wars. Massive humans. Massive wars.

What if it wasn’t today; the mid point? What if it was the high point before we thrived and replicated and made so many of us and endangered everything else? That high point where we had more freedom to be just us. Walking, climbing, breathing, foraging, living, dreaming,
playful primates.

 

20180327_PlayfulPrimates

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Love at work

Showered in money
Showered in billions and billions of dollars of money
Off the backs of useless labor
Showered in a waste of paper sheets
And meaningless ambitions
Playing with delusion
Laughing at the great wide
Nothing
Feeling gratified by useless schemes
Phony wins
Empty mouths wide open
And blank delights in our eyes
We laugh and we laugh and we laugh
Holding hands
In this crazy, peculiar abyss
With no reason to live
Breathing dust
Showered in billions and billions of dollars of money

Money

Surely dying

I’m sitting here on the empty Jacuzzi staring at the ceiling with water droplets spritzing near my face, as I try to feel fulfilled. In my room, I spray all types of scents to calm my senses but it just numbs me down. I have every material thing that I want and I make a lot of money for a chick who claims to not need a lot. I turn on the bright blue therapy light that mimics sunlight to feel like I’m sitting under the sun. I meet a lot of people every day whom I don’t call my own. I have the love of my two parents but I want a big family that’s fifty times bigger and will have my back. I have the guy that adores me but I also want one who doesn’t. I’m climbing the capitalist ladder but I believe in socialist type stuff. I’m maintaining my status as a whatever, but it’s just killing me inch by inch. I don’t take pills, smoke, or drink to cope but that doesn’t mean I’m happier. I can’t follow spiritual leaders and luminaries who say pretty things because in the end they’re just humans like me. I can’t support any religions with an open heart because they talk too much of discipline, but I’m fueled by instinct and desire. I have realistic aspirations now and still want to do significant things for the future, but I don’t if I don’t have to. I can have kids if I want to but I may just let my body shut down. There are twelve months in a year and eight of them are already over and I can’t get the past three or four years back.

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