Tag Archives: poverty

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!

Faux Oppression

Your revolution ain’t special. These virtual warriors out there sending out tweets, blurbs, and blogs about how they’re oppressed in America. Get real. There isn’t a group of folks within these borders who even knows what oppression feels like outside of being bullied in a classroom or cyber space.
It’ disingenuous to use race, gender, ethnicity or culture as a victim status in America. There is one exception and you don’t hear from them, that’s the working poor. They don’t scream on social media or protest in popular cities. They live life at a shade grayer than the rest of the country.

These are the folks you call when the dealer wants to much for your oil change. These folks cut your grass when the chain landscapers are cutting into your budget. These folks repair those hot water heaters in your 200 square foot garages for the same price the contractor charges for an estimate. These aren’t the folks sittin around waiting for a go fund me miracle or SSI.

The underground economy is alive and well. It’s maintained with debts and promises of nothing more than a dollar or work. Taxes are not collected, just debts. Fees aren’t levied, but it costs to do business everywhere. Penalties are harsh. Failure to pay debts means I loss of something valuable, even life in some cases.

These folks live on their wits. Nice things have a price no matter where there bought or bartered. The working poor in this country don’t go to the hospital or doctor. The kitchen is the ER. These folks don’t have pain insurance to support a pain med addiction. They use alcohol for minor pains, WD 40 for arthritis, and barter with neighbors for left over meds. They don’t care about Obamacare, Americare, or any care. Their only care is feeding the family and gas to work.

Folks who work and hustle to stay afloat don’t care about schools and funding. They send their kids to school as a place of business. Their kids ain’t there to be politicized or philosophized. They send their kids to school to work. They remind their kids that school is a luxury and not a place to be weak or spoiled. It’s not a fashion show or social experiment, it’s the kids job and they better take it seriously.

You don’t hear from these folks and they like it that way. You see poor working folks are free. They take hard times silently and good times graciously. They take good times in stride and count blessings or luck depending on how tough life’s been. We don’t want your interference in our health, our finances, or our kids life. We just want to be left alone.

So the next time you have an election, raise taxes, or try to usurp the countries health leave us be. We’ll be fine using home remedies, selling something of value, and whipping our kids ass when they forget who they are at school.

You can have this faux democratic system that creates dollars and privilege for some. You can have your checks and programs for those folks who live on a hand out. Our county has walls; it’s right where the pavement ends and the dirt begins. You can step in the yard with a warning, but the porch ain’t for folks like you. You’re not welcome within our borders.

We’re steadily looming for a way to be American outside of your corrupt system. We by houses lease to own. We maintain our vehicles ourselves or barter work with a mechanic friend. We recycle things to improve our lives, not because it’s cool. We repurpose things because everything and everyone can have a purpose, we dislike throwing things or folks away. Most importantly we see right through what our government has become, and instead of making excuses because we could benefit from the government; we learnt the lesson that some things just serve no purpose other than serving itself.

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.

Inflated Glory

In the confines of obese rooms and bodies they spew out green words like, ” the greater good” to justify their evils. Poor folk know their ain’t no ‘greater good”.

In laboratories and dark barns they created a cash cow. Now our rich folks are lithe while our poor folks are fattened up. “Your health is important”, they say while they count the dollars and blessings from checks with corporate logos adorning the back like coupon packs.

Out in nature surrounded by life and decay they sit in plastic molds eating banquets while discussing hunger and homelessness. “The downtrodden” they sing with beautiful voices collecting blessings and dollars to continue the conversation in another season.

Poverty is the clothe that polishes the middle class brass. They need the fabric of our existence to add to their arsenal of denial that they to are supply in the demand of the wealthy.

We don’t hide in our trash, we recycle it in the hopes there’s a Diamond in the ruff. Life is equal in the end. One mans Ferrari is another mans Corvette, and another’s mans truck, all are aspiring. This is how we stand proud in our position.

So we’ll continue to build calluses and joy in our labors. Thanks to technology you are becoming our spare time. Entertaining the “downtrodden” with your deeds and intent while we sit back with our own economy and enjoy thanksgiving with family and friends without a dollar.

You can continue in your belief that death will be more glamorous or fruitful and we’ll keep watching your heirs squander your inheritance until one day we’re all sitting around once again talking, not about how your wealth served you, but how you served your wealth for a lie. Our time was always here, patiently waiting for your return.

American Dream

American Dream
Man stop with that tired ass shit about flags and matters. Bitch you ain’t got no skin in this game and you wanna whine from a distance. It’s my people who matter you Stupid fuck!
My people, “poor folks” who spend their time like their money. Poor folks who ain’t locked up and hustle around town bustin their ass on jobs your lazy ass couldn’t do on a good day, not even in the middle of that middle class mid life exercise crisis you go through, yeah, the one sandwiched between the fat phases that are really you.
I ain’t talkin bout the Mcdonalds eating baby momma and daddy who are poor by choice cause their ass don’t know how to do nothing but structure their day around a TV and a couch. I’m talking about my people, poor folks hustling all day in the sun, in the rain, and within the storm to make a dollar and still find time for their family.
My folks don’t spend money to keep their kids out of the house, they save money and teach their kids how to run a house. I see your nasty little bastards can’t even clean up after themselves, then look through my folks when they come around to make a few dollars by cleaning up after you. It’s ok though cause love is our currency and our account is managed well.
You expect us to feel something about some damn blue and black coloring game. Fuck you! That’s just cops and robbers playing that game then crying when it gets real. If you ain’t about the life, on either side, then get the fuck out.
You talk about that flag like its a marketing sign. My folks know what God and Country is about, cause it’s our sons, and now our daughters, who are going to die for it while those ungrateful little assholes you raise are in college crying about what fucking sex they are, you ain’t about shit!!!
Now we’re gettin ready to vote again so all you plastic niggers, stale crackers, and spray tanned wetbacks are gonna be out here trying to convince us about your “creds” cause your great grandpa had a hustle. Stay where your at bitch. You need my people now for that vote. That white privileged bitch is gonna be out there trying to convince us she’s a “coal miners daughter now”! Get outta here with that shit, we’re figuring just how important we are and you’re ass needs a resume dated in January bitch, and tell your friends bout it too.
There’s two sides to every coin. Most times my folks, poor folks” are invisible. We can clean your houses, yards, and offices while you’re out trashing the inside of your car. You don’t really care about us outside a ballot, but that’s cool. You won’t see us in November either, you’ll just feel us in January when your spouse and kids are looking at you trying to figure out what your lazy ass can do besides run your mouth and live off my folks!

Poor Man’s meal.

It’s hell being poor.
I always thought that being poor was about not having stuff. You know how it is; you see the person with the nice clothes, or the new car and your wish list grows by the minute.

Even if you grew up with a little money you probably experienced at least a temporary poverty. Like the college student scrounging under the seat of the clunker for change to buy gas. Or maybe the young person fresh out of high school who was “just starting out” and money was tight. We all seem to experience a time when money was something other folks had.

I’ve come to realize that the impact of poverty and health is the real concern with money, or lack there of! Everyone is most likely familiar with the image of college students eating pizza, or the struggling family “scraping together money” to make the next meal. The quality of food available to “poor folks” is terrible.

We won’t even get into the preparation and portion issue.
We all know that processed food is convenient when time for meals interferes with time for making a dollar. “Grab it and go” is the way to go when you’re chasing a dollar.

Everyone who has had money but needed to hustle to keep it going probably cruised down the highway eating a Hot Dog and drinking a Coke dropping fries on the floorboard for later.

Supply doesn’t seem to be the problem when it comes to food and poverty in America. Demand is definitely there by the looks of things. It’s the type of food and how it’s prepared. We’re fooled into packaged convenient meals that are skillfully labeled to confuse the guy rushing through the grocery store grabbing the cheapest box in the freezer. Or the other dude that never sets foot in a grocery store except to pick up a woman. He’d rather “drive thru” and go ! Both guys are paying big bucks for plaque on installments as the percentage rate goes up.

Portions in freezer boxes will leave a working man gaunt. You have to eat three boxes if you have ever worked outdoors laboring for 4 hours at a stretch. Even the hungry man size meal would do good to feed an office worker on a good day. This is a marketing strategy. Someone makes more money if you buy more meals, and you will buy more meals.

The opposite is true of fast food. There portions are designed for big boys. The kids meal is probably the standard for portion size for adults. We may scoff at that idea, but our disdain is not based on science, it’s based on marketing and the triple size portion that’s only $1.19 more. That’s a deal!!!

The issue is so complex that their are several industries researching psychological assumptions of demographic values and belief systems to capitalize on every dollar you have or want.

The foods we ate, as a nation, in early years were good foods. They are inexpensive and fueled us towards longevity and quality of life that was comfortable. However, those folks who had a work ethic that would put us to shame are long gone. Labor wasn’t just for the poor back then.

The serving size of a 19th century citizen vs the 21st century citizen is definitely not the same spoonful. The preparation technique and time has been reduced from hours to seconds. So nowadays we have the twisted version of a meal that can sit on a shelf for another century and someone could put it in a box that will shoot microwaves through it, then a minute later the 22nd century man will have an antique meal. Although, he’ll probably say “yuck” and spit it out. Then he’ll go into his undersized cabinet and get a tube of steak and potatoes. Or he’ll drive to the local fast food joint and order a meal that resembles something from the 20th cartoon The Flintstones.

“The Family Meal” has been reduced to dinner. So I was thinking if you’re poor and don’t have to run around everywhere chasing a dream that’s really a fantasy, you could get back some of those meals and time by buying groceries and cooking them on a stove.

Then you could talk and eat breakfast, share stories at a lunch that was prepared, and relax at dinner discussing your day. This sounds absurd to those chasing the “American Fantasy”, I mean dream!

Or you could continue down the road talking or texting while eating out of cardboard of paper sack chasing the “Jone’s”. Just remember dreams don’t come true and being poor can be healthy!