Post by Young Kiz on May 24, 2012 3:49:32 GMT -4
What has happen to honor in this day in age? Chilvalry has passed on long ago as the corporate interests siezed the reigns, gripping them tight and swaying the carriage in the direction of financial greed, complete envy of bogus mirage, with marketing advertisement schemes woven in means to force petty to worthless products, services and ideas into the brilliant minds of human beings... ironically creating the masses in to mindless, brainwashed, overcomsuming sheep.
Whether it's politics, food, house cleaning products, music, sports and other forms of entertainment, wars or whatever... We as human beings on the smaller end of the financial caste system created within the realms of "capitalism", have be shrunken into a massive herd of cattle. Being manipulated and decieved into allowing ourselves to be controled by our government, instead of us being the supervisors of our representation, due to a few rich men, owning the most prestigious buisnesses in the international community, whom gain "special" privileges of due to their successes. Money talk, and so with the greenbacks flowing so does the corruption.
Capitalism is based on competition and Entrepreneurship. See I don't see the difference between a drug dealer on the streets and a car salesmen trying to conduct their buisness in the public eye. To me, it's both a type of sales persona; be it may, one side is considered legal and the other is a legit buisness. But truly, it is bullshit! How is it that tobacco and pharmaceutical companies get away with slanging their products, when cigarettes or prescription narcotics are just as worse as I don't know, let's see... heroin... cocaine... whatever man. Nike, Mosanto and Philip Morris are some of the worse offenders of human rights violators against the 3rd world. Yet a hustler on the streets just trying to survive because he just can't make shit with off a minium wage job gets busted. Yes, the streets have their problems, the whole fucking world does but still..................................................................................................
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"Whatcha writin' bout dogg?" asks a voice from behind a chair in a dim lit room besides the glow off a laptop screen.
With no answer, I just continue sitting quietly to myself crouched over my desk, glaring into the computer.
"YO!!" frustration fueling with the yelp of the person standing beside my chair.
Staring sliently into my own piece of mind type out onto my Wordpad program, containing a disgusted expression across my face, I still do not flinch.
"Whatever mang... hit me up homie..." echoes the voice once more, fading as he walks away... the door creaking open them clamming shut.
I go back to my work, just simply putting down in words what are my true feelings about society today.
---------------
Crooked politics, greedy big buisness, expanding central banking systems, along with criminals, psychotics and bullies equipped with guns and hiding behind a badge. This country makes me sick... Still love my nation, always proud to be an American, it's whom I was born, but just ill with the ailment of deception and manipulation. The systems broke and we as a people, no matter color nor creed, must fix it.
So as I conclude in today's journal upon my own ideas, I must finish with this in reminder to myself: Let's take names and kick some ass... nigga!
---------------
...ha...ha...ha... Came a strong burst of laughter from my vocals finally breaking my silence. But even in my lonesome I still maintain my antisocial behavior, as I simmer down within my tone, slouching back in my chair. Moving my mouse, pointing the little arrow on to save. Closing out my page, I move forward once more in my chair, stretching my arm out a bit to push my screen down. I pull back, scooting the chair and pop out from where I was seated. Stretching my arms and arching my back a bit after sitting for so long... I reach out my cellphone... crappy look old thing, I ain't into this whole technology thing... even my computer barely runs... flipping it open: Miss call... 812-290-xxxx.
"My nigga Bo Vice..." chuckling a bit to myself in an almost faint whisper... "Better hit Luni back up..."
Faintly stated as I place the phone up to my ear, guiding my hand up onto the doorknob and opening it. Walking out, the ghosts in my room shutting slamming the door. The lights flicker on on, no one is there anymore...
Whether it's politics, food, house cleaning products, music, sports and other forms of entertainment, wars or whatever... We as human beings on the smaller end of the financial caste system created within the realms of "capitalism", have be shrunken into a massive herd of cattle. Being manipulated and decieved into allowing ourselves to be controled by our government, instead of us being the supervisors of our representation, due to a few rich men, owning the most prestigious buisnesses in the international community, whom gain "special" privileges of due to their successes. Money talk, and so with the greenbacks flowing so does the corruption.
Capitalism is based on competition and Entrepreneurship. See I don't see the difference between a drug dealer on the streets and a car salesmen trying to conduct their buisness in the public eye. To me, it's both a type of sales persona; be it may, one side is considered legal and the other is a legit buisness. But truly, it is bullshit! How is it that tobacco and pharmaceutical companies get away with slanging their products, when cigarettes or prescription narcotics are just as worse as I don't know, let's see... heroin... cocaine... whatever man. Nike, Mosanto and Philip Morris are some of the worse offenders of human rights violators against the 3rd world. Yet a hustler on the streets just trying to survive because he just can't make shit with off a minium wage job gets busted. Yes, the streets have their problems, the whole fucking world does but still..................................................................................................
---------------
"Whatcha writin' bout dogg?" asks a voice from behind a chair in a dim lit room besides the glow off a laptop screen.
With no answer, I just continue sitting quietly to myself crouched over my desk, glaring into the computer.
"YO!!" frustration fueling with the yelp of the person standing beside my chair.
Staring sliently into my own piece of mind type out onto my Wordpad program, containing a disgusted expression across my face, I still do not flinch.
"Whatever mang... hit me up homie..." echoes the voice once more, fading as he walks away... the door creaking open them clamming shut.
I go back to my work, just simply putting down in words what are my true feelings about society today.
---------------
Crooked politics, greedy big buisness, expanding central banking systems, along with criminals, psychotics and bullies equipped with guns and hiding behind a badge. This country makes me sick... Still love my nation, always proud to be an American, it's whom I was born, but just ill with the ailment of deception and manipulation. The systems broke and we as a people, no matter color nor creed, must fix it.
So as I conclude in today's journal upon my own ideas, I must finish with this in reminder to myself: Let's take names and kick some ass... nigga!
---------------
...ha...ha...ha... Came a strong burst of laughter from my vocals finally breaking my silence. But even in my lonesome I still maintain my antisocial behavior, as I simmer down within my tone, slouching back in my chair. Moving my mouse, pointing the little arrow on to save. Closing out my page, I move forward once more in my chair, stretching my arm out a bit to push my screen down. I pull back, scooting the chair and pop out from where I was seated. Stretching my arms and arching my back a bit after sitting for so long... I reach out my cellphone... crappy look old thing, I ain't into this whole technology thing... even my computer barely runs... flipping it open: Miss call... 812-290-xxxx.
"My nigga Bo Vice..." chuckling a bit to myself in an almost faint whisper... "Better hit Luni back up..."
Faintly stated as I place the phone up to my ear, guiding my hand up onto the doorknob and opening it. Walking out, the ghosts in my room shutting slamming the door. The lights flicker on on, no one is there anymore...
