Tag Archives: freedom

Death of The American

A man not clear in his faith is not clear in his thoughts. Either you are or your not, faithful. About what may matter less than an indecisive mind about your own persona. A man in the middle has two masters ruling his existence.

Creeds, oaths, and constitutions are facades for men with a weaker continence. An American was never intended to be part of a government, quite the contrary, a government was meant to be part of a man to protect the interests of those with which he communes.

Throughout his life, an American, uses his time to protect his life and liberty. Neither are afforded by any other man or entity. He develops his strength physically, mentally, and intellectually as to provide for his interests and the interest of those with whom he communes.

A free man stands alone with allegiance to principles, not people or governments. He may have to bear faith and allegiance to an ideal bigger than himself at times to protect his liberty, but his principles do not change, and in the absence of threat he returns his allegiance to himself and his interests. This is the point of the word “bear” in the oath a soldier takes. He must endure the subjugation of his liberty for a time as to protect the greater interest of his liberty. This is a temporary state within the life of an American.

I hear “let freedom ring!” I see pristine flags wisping in the winds of time. I watch parades and ceremonies where Americans glorify the deeds of our Nation. What I don’t see is liberty and independence. I see dependence and authority established without resistance.

Americans calling for more laws while stripping the independent man of his liberty. Americans dividing over resources they didn’t sweat for provided by politicians who own nothing but a plastic title. I see leadership redefined for those weaker men to be considered consensus. I hear lies that Americans ignore for a larger piece of a pie that’s been sitting in the window sill way to long to be edible. I feel we’re lost.

We’ve been so far removed from what it means to be an American weaker men have diluted liberty and independence to compromise and control. We were never intended to be ruled. Read the documents. Pay attention to the language. Understand liberty, understand independence, comprehend the nuances of phrases like “bear true faith and allegiance, these are temporary states of being that have rode the lie of pride into a subjugated existence that’s portrayed as free, you’re not free, wake up.

I bear what dealings I have with institutions like government for the greater good of my interests and the interests of those I love. I bore truth faith and allegiance throughout a career in the military. I sacrificed freedom, therefore I understand that’s over. My allegiance is to my interests now and benefit citizens I’ll never meet or shake hands with, I am no longer my government.

We are in a war within that most cannot see. This war, if lost, will compromise all that it means to be American. I’m not speaking about being patriotic, I’m speaking of independence. I’m not speaking of pride, I’m speaking of respect. I’m not speaking of unity, I’m speaking of liberty. If we remember and understand what it means to be an American and act as such, this will provide for the common defense.

Americans were never meant to be a government, a religion, a party or race. We were meant to be independent folks who cared enough about our liberty and independence that at times we would sacrifice those principles for our greater good, then return home with our allegiance to our own endeavors.

We are in danger. Too many of us are governed by weaker men with goals other than our independence and liberty. They can’t give us liberty, it’s ours inalienably. They can’t give us independence, it’s our heritage. They can’t give us freedom, only take it, and this has been the path for far too long. Stand up alone, be proud of yourself, and let no man govern you into a subjugated state of illusion!

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Crayon Box Kids

I know you’re busy. I realize that wasting time on this crayon box shit them idiots been carrying around for years, or a check, is tired. It’s past ignorance if that’s possible. I understand you have to work, take care of family and spend time with friends, but you have to take a minute.

We let these bastards run their mouth to long. Yeah, it wasn’t worth it to shut them up, but it ended up being like the child that was never disciplined and suddenly became too big for everyone’s britches. Now these little idiot actually have folks convinced their legit and he brought the playground with him.

I know you hear about colors that matter and wonder why. Just like I wonder about geeks who are so afraid of the dark they take their sheets outside with them so they can keep their minds hidden under their sheets.

We shut these fucks up for a minute, but they ain’t going away. We knew this and moved on not realizing folks would find dollars in the pockets of sagging pants. We didn’t realize the sheets would get folded up and put away for hair styles. Who knew that these miedra ignorante would steal the cowboys bandana to wipe their ass instead of sweat from a hard days work.

They’re all the same. Like some adolescent bitch in heat they dress up, fix their hair, and show their ass like it’s some booty for mentally incapacitated hood rats who colors kids white, black, brown or red like pit bulls in a whelping box. Who knew we would end up listening to these feminized men trying to emasculate jewelry and fashion to entertain their Momma’s through an audience of baby Momma’s raising little man.

I can’t understand the toothless bastard stealing flags and soldiers medals to paint their town white. Even crazier, there’s a chicken shit cracker eating desk jockey out there buying this fool the paint and brushes as long as he don’t tell no one. You know the one, he has masks and dollars to masquerade as a leader, he cut his teeth in a church building that could only produce a spirit with white robes.

I know you’re out there quietly shaking your head like me. I know you see through the race hustle like I do. Usted ve la ignorancia. We are humans. We left our crayon boxes in elementary school. We aren’t fools lost in some world of physical attributes as power, our power is seeing through bandanas, sheets, and feminized male fashion.

Now we have to speak to those cultures trying to usurp our efforts and failures as their excuse for choosing to get theirs. These micro cultures within our diverse country don’t deserve a voice when they start screaming like little man in Walmart trying to get a new toy. We need to understand for them they’ve been a political bitch for decades to a movement that will stoop to any level to create a vote.

These political pariahs don’t support the poor, they exploit the govt assistance chasing hood rats and their colorful offspring for entertainment. They don’t care about the immigrant that’s no longer Mexican, and will never be American. They make movies about drugs, bandanas, and guns. They don’t care about the poor folks of all colors, they pit us against each other using false stats and cops who work for spineless administrators who don’t know the first thing about leadership. And we fall for the ruse, folks believe there’s a race problem because they are still the political bitch and don’t know the difference between cultures and race.

Old folks say just cause you’re poor don’t mean you have to be dirty. I say just cause we’re poor we don’t mean we have to be ignorant. The more we study, or research, the more we realize them folks ain’t that smart anyway.

Rise above the ignorance. Take control of your reality. Understand that your people are in your circle and anybody trying to represent better step back. A real man don’t let no bitch dressed up acting represent him. We stand tall in our own boots and sandals. We stand with our sons and daughters, wives and parents, as an example of a free man. Free physically and mentally from any influence of dollars or comforts we ain’t earned. We ain’t no particular color, we’re a particular character, and we’re calling Ya’all out!

Drifter

I sat before eternity silent
No answers did I seek
Listening for the future
To gently kiss my cheek

Being everywhere but nowhere
A space outside of time
Lacked color or purpose
Living in the sublime.

So I stood up and brushed my pants
And walked towards the crossroad
Where I felt a better chance.

And in the distant dust loud
Just behind the ochre road
Death rumbled in the clouds

Not one to take the middle road
I walked with open eyes
An ever slowing pace
Towards ever changing skies

I walked through the mirage,
And into the heat of day
Gathering the colors of life
For when the skies turn gray

The end of the earth is a lie
For fools who dream
Or ask themselves why

There are no rhymes for reason
To hold the truth alight
Just changes of the seasons
Stretching day to night

Homeboy

To all my brothers and sisters out there; just know that poverty is an idea they made up to keep us in our place because we see things differently. Not better or worse, cause we don’t give a fuck what you do or have. We only care for ours.

We have to get past the idea that govt, religion, or schools are gonna bring us together; we are together everyday of our lives and most days are good, without those institutions. They’re the ones that divided the world up to suit their needs anyway.

Looking at poverty on a horizontal scale, rather than vertical gives me perspective. I’m not at the bottom of any hierarchy. I’m not to the left of any curve. I’m here, with my folks livin, lovin, and strugglin as was meant to be. Your place is of no concern to me, I’m an American to the point I’m free and peaceful till someone or something challenges that, all that other shit is just fodder to keep lesser men feeling good about their insecurities.

Government owns society. Is culture an escape from society? Ask yourself that question. They try to promote that multicultural shit so they could get ahead of us being left alone. They hand out a few dollars and state cheese trying to make you feel like you’re in debt, bitch your economy would fall if you weren’t handing out something.

The bureaucracy surrounding public assistance reaches out deep into every sector of our economy. You got these haters out there talking about drug testing or community service. Go ahead and take your vouchers and milk then see how far your class warfare will get you. You’ll see millions more in them freebee lines, cause most of them folks handing that shit out lost that connection between their hands and their heads long ago, if they ever had it.

It’s our poverty that reveals your greed. You dig up our huts to reveal past truths about a culture you ain’t part of to demonstrate your status as wealthy. There ain’t no connection bitch. You don’t know what cold feels like when there’s no heat to be found or hunger when the next meal has to be found.

Poverty is a concept you made up to make the common man believe he was somewhat less, but you marvel at our ingenuity in museums and history books. You dig deep into archives with dollars and delusional dignity trying to find a connection to a struggle you were never part of.

Well I’m back where I belong from that middle class myth of the “American Dream”; I’m awake now to the lies and deceit. Down here folks don’t live off another mans work and no man lives off theirs. If someone lends you a hand you shake it and smile and that’s all you accept when it’s your turn.

This is “The American” they’ll be digging up in 1000 years. This is the man those weak ass wannabes will be going through family lineage to find an attachment to for posterity Just so they can say “I came from the working class.”, bitch you came from ignorance and wouldn’t have lasted a day with my folks.

Everyone wants better for their children or the next generation. What is better? Is it finding enough comfort to judge others? Is it gathering more things to keep boredom at bay? Is it having enough money to buy your way through some perceived tough time? For me it’s demonstrating that dignity isn’t tied to the economy and respect doesn’t wear clothes or drive cars, it takes pride in itself regardless of what others believe. Stand on your own two feet, even if someone helps you up because you’re always a human like everyone else.

American Man

The echoes of The American Man have been drowned out over the years by barren words and manicured actions of plastic figures that only talk when their strings are pulled. We’ve lost respect for The American Man while he continues to work in silence.

The American Man was born in an uncultivated land where he carved a life out of fertile fields and towering forests. He cut trees, not deals, to build his home. He plowed lands into fields, he had no time to dig dirt to throw on other men’s plot. He wore his “Sunday Best” to honor God and demonstrate his reverence, not everyday as a status symbol covering his excesses.

The American Man was a tool, a weapon, and a machine. Unlike any others he guarded his independence like a family heirloom. The American Man basked in the glow of freedom alert to any shadows between him and his maker. He worked tirelessly for his family and their new found independence and only became a weapon in their defense.

The American Man was an ideal, not a nationality. The American Man was Irish, Moorish, German, etc… He fled the oppression of religion and politics to live free with his God, free of pariahs who lived off the sweat and blood of other men’s efforts.

It didn’t take long for men with lazier continence to form and chip away at his independence. They painted his landscape with banners and stuffed his mouth with creeds that choked his fertile mind with weeds of ignorance. With war comes unity, and this tool stole his emancipation through necessity, and for over 200 years they’ve kept him fighting to protect their interest, to keep him bound to their greed out of fear.

Today we have no lands to discover, there are no continents to occupy. Today we’re headed to another of the many showdowns we’ve witnessed, and participated in over the centuries. The American Man never died because he has no nationality, he has no land, he is freedom. He is not liberty, to have liberty you must be chained, the American Man can’t be chained, he’d sooner die.

The American Man lives across the globe and is aware of the oppression that wealth, greed, and station perpetuate. The American Man is intellectual without education, a weapon without violence, and a tool without limits.

We’ve let weaker men have their paper and promises for too long. These pariahs have appetites that can’t be held by a belt. They will swallow generations and belch lies to make room for your soul. We must stand tall again against oppression. Oppression from within, from plastic men vomiting liquid lies. It won’t come from weapons or violence, these men rely on other men’s muscle; it will come from words and laws that strangle our freedom over time, like the weeds that choke a garden.

Free Man

I fight daily against an enemy of words. The world tries to steal my freedom with names that fit people, but make no sense to a person. All I want to do is honor the pride in my hands, the hands that feed my imagination and my hunger.

I have no color. I’m not a continent, I’m a land to myself. I live where my boundaries take me, not where I am placed. I build a life for my own, not for scavengers to fly above waiting till the time is ripe.

A group is insecure by nature and needs others to validate their beliefs, I need no man to walk the paths of my journey, you may shake my hand, but never my beliefs, so go elsewhere for weaker constitutions.

I see other men joining. I will never join anything but my beloved. I don’t need another mans glory to walk proud. I don’t need clothing and adornments to demonstrate my weakness within another mans prowess, I stand alone. You cannot define a free man, he won’t allow it.
I understand most men seek solace in the company of other men under a banner of past accomplishments by other men, but me, I’m not livestock. I’m brave enough to be free.

Things do not make me, the earth does. My nature is not built of glass and steel, I’m relentless like the growth that overtakes your buildings long after they’ve been abandoned for new fantasies.

I don’t need to be entertained by false displays of bravado or heroism. I fight a war for my existence everyday not to be defined by the ignorance around me. Slogans and creeds are the vines that choke a free man. Banners and flags are just signs of which direction the storm is coming. My mind is outside the realm of incarceration, no matter where my body is.

I wish no man Ill will, nor do I judge a man for being led. We stand where we’re placed, from there we put down roots based on our topography, or keep moving to avoid being cultivated. Germination is more than seeds in dirt, and to stand in awe at the explosion of light throughout your life trying to climb on the backs of other men like weeds in a garden doesn’t create fertile souls. Turning the soul over continuously prepares the mind to consider the spirit.

Stay free my friend. Resist the world and it defining ambitions. Don’t come my way with your seeds of destruction, it will be like planting seeds in a jungle, the wild ones will always take over and define themselves. I wish you a lifetime of calloused hands toiling, and sweating brows dripping, into your own pastoral bliss.

Breathing Ashes

Two hearts beat at opposite ends of the earth. One thuds slowly in the heat of the day while another races to sleep on a cold winter night. Human, they share the beat of a different rhythm.

Like minds stretch across continents to join a conversation of cosmic concern. One contemplates the trials of hunger while another struggles with life under fire. Human, they share the trials of life with an empathetic tone and open mind.

We share characteristics and chemicals the transcend borders and flags, but the words between us are garbled in the distance. I see you in plasma and pixels, I hear you in surround sound, but you must be more than an excerpt.

The currency and thick hands that strangle us are illusions, our blood is real, warm, and too precious to dye sidewalks and sand. Hate is the mirage that those crows caw and flap their wings at trying to stir up grit and thermal winds. If we stop for one second and look past their shiny feathers and listen to the silence we can share the wind and warm our souls, rather than scorch the earth.

I know your human, I know outside your temples, mosques, and churches you love me, I’m you, human and flesh. You can’t think of me as a person, then your dogma transgresses humanity. Silence those voices that scream and twist our humanity into a competition for an afterlife that rots in a tomb.

Now is important. You and I together can remove our amamah’s and ties, leave our books on the table, and share a meal to celebrate enlightenment from man and all his fears or greed. No one has, nor ever will, own this earth. We will all return to it and become one in the end.

Two dreamers hungry for the truth that we stand on. Feet firmly planted in souls instead of soil. We go unnoticed like the insects that forge their lives in the dirt. It’s important work, handshakes and smiles, kind words and thoughts, just two dreamers lucid and true.

Two souls dancing in a boreal existence. Colors and directions swaying between the realm of possibility and and the reality that the only places we’ll ever meet is within the wind as long as we breathe and within the earth when our ashes become dust.