Vultures of Culture

I keep seeing it, hearing it, feeling it

These great birds circling overhead

(spst…you inspire me)

They flap their great feathered wings

Remnants of blood and guts hang from their jowls

Do birds even have jowls?

Men do.

They smoke their silver cigars and stack their shillings until the golden house they made disintegrates

I’m pro money, anti insanity, pro living, anti establishment, and still awaiting these tears to cry

Out to clouds and sky and move the heart of God

I’ve never felt like less of a man than…

Right then, right now

  • murder men for money
  • lambs for wealth
  • borrow children for cash
  • mattresses filled with coin

But it all starts to rust

But it all turns to dust

Why do I choose to become a monster to chase after things that only take from me? When has money ever given me anything more than the craving for more? I must live. I must survive. But a house on a hill will not make me come alive inside. The job will not validate me. The sleek car will not make me thin. The woman, the ring, the mass amounts of money will not buy any form of security.

I’ll spend my life living this free gift of life

rather

Than pursuing something that someone else has promised will buy me life

and i hope i can hold true to my convictions

and not wait to live once i’ve amassed my wealth

because if i wait to live once i have money

i will have lived seeing nothing but fantasy

and die very very very much alone

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