Money

I'm a coward because I think about it

most of us are cowards for thinking about it,

worrying about it, this money thing 

you can worry about this money thing until you are

fucking exhausted and your hair turns grey, and wrinkles form on your face.

those in know, want the advantage, against the several billion people in the world that we live in

there is only so much room at the top of the pyramid

so people devise clever little tricks and games to get to the top or stay there

step after step after step

remember, wash and repeat

getting ahead is not easy, they say

neither is winning 

as the athletes take their performance enhancing drugs and the famous have their plastic surgeries to stay in the bright glamorous lights

it gets fucking weary man,

few us want to be homeless or hungry 

so we compete and kill, and work ourselves to death

then we invest in whatever, hoping for a return

WE don't want to be beggars on the corner

so we enslave ourselves to this money thing.

Utopia

People don't want it

maybe they want HELL, or just a little taste of it

perhaps a lot of people enjoy some unhappiness

a lot of people I know seem to love living in the Past

everything was better of course,

the people, places, They say

not for me, mostly terrible, and some good

I'd be fool to criticize a kid for having iPhone and doing whatever with it

it's a different world, adapt or perish

I salute those who are trying to make life easier and better,

I saw a meme were people saw a google self driving crumpled

when it hit a squirrel,

Really?

why the happiness in the misfortune?

How many people are injured or killed in wrecks

so, bring on a smarter car, we definitely need one

as the already dead, cling to the unremarkable past

Dickhead Drivers

There are a lot of them

they are everywhere it seems

they enjoy being dickheads,

say if you don't know your way around a certain area

and their dickhead ass do, and show some hesitation,

do to not knowing where they are doing construction,

they will tailgate or blow at you, their dickhead ass

have probably traveled down the same road a thousand times,
and expect the same of everyone else

yet they won't give you the benefit of the doubt.

It's hard to like people like this

that's why they are dickheads

so many become TOUGH behind the wheel of a car

or computer screen

fucking SAD

It's Useless

To tell people your pain,

they can't feel your pain

they can't feel the pain of a stomach

or the pain in the skull

it's too much,

painful body equals painful mind and spirit,

and soul

that's were the fuckin blues come from,

and you feel that shit or you don't

there are people who can relate, and there are people who don't

can't feel at all, and you want to tell them about your pain?

they can't feel that shit.

Sorry For The Typos

And you must understand this,

it's not intentional by any means,

I'm usually just tired when I write this or 

half drunk, but this no excuse

because some folk are really offended by this,

and I apologise, didn't spell that right,

I'm sure some, would stop reading if they see a typo,

like not care about the message or the meaning of the idea,

just some pedant worried about grammar, and want this thing overproduced, and well edited

well this ain't well edited,  I hate well edited books

New York times bestsellers, which look like a team of people went in and produced that shit, and censored it,  excuse for a few missing words

This job don't pay no bills.

And if if did, well shit happens

the best writing should be done a lone, with out influence, you know,  the writer not caring what the reader thinks

hopefully I say something interesting, and that is the goal for me

Either you hate it, love it or you're indifferent

hopefully the grammar is little bit better.

Lol

Sensory processing can be my excuse,
if you believe in excuses.

Poem: A Day Off By Damion Hamilton