I’m a bum.

I’m a loser.

I’m a thieving fool.

I don’t work enough.

I must be scum, a dirty Kleenex, the gum on your shoe.

The decadence of menial tasks wage war against ourselves to reach the top for what is no longer backed by gold, but oil, the greed of limited resources, its havoc, the violence it yields, mere decimal points in a bank account, the dead presidents who once truly understood the leadership behind our freedoms, sat tall on their horses in the line of fire, musket-to-musket, bayonet-to-bayonet, to fight for it; now they just stare back at us all in blistering shame goin’ into the same drawers that feed the chiefs while the rest of us keep workin’, makin’ that machine run; we’re the oil, it’s depravity.

Everyone runs around on that hamster wheel hoping one day they will free themselves of the very prisons they mortgage year-after-year, taxes, healthcare, insurance, food, injuries, run, run, run, run, keep runnin’ Forrest, you’re almost there, you’re one medical bill away, away from homelessness.

I see a black woman spangein’ the corners of downtown Chicago, her crack baby in a stroller while the rattling of change strikes my ears, her pimp baby daddy lurks nearby blending into the cataclysmic mosaic of poverty, all eyes plastered to the sidewalk, glued to their phones like machines in a dystopian utopia, walking by without concern, “a penny saved is a penny earned,” drownin’ in a long eight hours of PRODUCTIVITY! Greed fuels their ambitions, lines their pockets, destroys their empathy towards anyone of lesser fortune, get a job; poverty is invisible.

Six feet under never felt so glorious, for some.

As I wander each year I see more and more tents, excrement and waste pile up alongside the high-walls of the I-5. I see district housing covered in splintered wood, crumbling brick, low income families screaming of hunger through the cracks of a wasteland in downtown Memphis.

Medieval disease plaguing the less fortunate, tent cities euthanized nationwide, I see fear, rage, disappointment, misery, the stray needles by freeways and under bridges in EVERY city, the nihilist fight to extinguish pain, douse misfortune, it’s spreading.

I hear gunshots, I hear the cries of the sick and hopeless festering on the sidewalks, flashing lights, skyscrapers, valet parking, gentrification, the white noise of automobiles fades it all away through the dull specks of night sky feebly in sight.

Security protects our freedoms, but don’t you see the irony in that statement.  

Strip search, swab your hands, latex gloves, you’ve been randomly selected to…”win a free vacation to…”

NOPE! Sir please step aside and remove your turban, now bend over, alright go ahead, no crime here…

War is fought for freedom, not oil, not the assassinations of foreign leaders who tried to break away from the ALMIGHTY DOLLAR, terrorists, weapons of mass destruction, the national security of this nation is at risk, let’s build a wall…you won’t back me…shit…I’ve got GoFundMe?

Blood smeared on the battlefields secures the wealth of just a few for the price of many lives and damaged minds, but corruption only exists in “third world shitholes” like Nigeria.

I see these men come back with no teeth, chattering about beneath the freeways, sleeping in their own filth, staring into the devil’s eyes with poison trenched in their veins, festering organs and numbing the mind, but they’re not alone. They walk in stupors like the white zombies of the east, slowly it spreads plaguing a nation, they’ve given up, they want out, they’re just a needle away, a gunshot short, an EMT’s worst nightmare, blooooop…narcan.

But they don’t really exist, not in the green eyes of the corporate world, not from the man in the suit, the crazed machines beneath him, it’s a blur, cover it up with newspaper, vanity headlines, FAKE news, post it to your feed, bicker over comments, likes, it’s all the same, nothin’s changed, it’s only just begun…

Standing in the red, white and blue corner, with an IQ of “it’s definitely higher than yours” and a weight of “noneofya god damn bidness,” ________ ________

…with a trust fund bigger than the whole eastern seaboard and only goin’ into bankruptcy a few times, he’s deported more illegal immigrants than his extremist idol Adolf Hitler, the irony of it all stands in front of the mirror early morning with fake tits, plagiarizing speeches, the quintessential image of vanity, the poster child for objectification, GREED pays; it definitely did for his toupee.

“Under my presidency I’m ecstatic that so many people follow me on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook…and if you haven’t already, subscribe to my YouTube channel. I’m gonna make America GRRRREEAT again people…JA FIRED!”

What we’ll do is, we’ll increase jobs tenfold, no…twentyfold, unemployment won’t exist, not like Obama, your tax money will pay for increased Border Patrol and a WALL, deport those immigrants stealin’ all the citizen’s jobs, gettin’ all those food stamps, SSI, health benefits, workin’ them high payin’ jobs as farmhands, livin’ in cots with ten other brown men, huskin’ corn, scoopin’ manure…

“Are you a U.S. citizen, you know you’re 300 miles from the border, lemme see ID, what’s your job, where do you live, what’s your momma’s name, shoe size, where ya headed, how long, do you eat meat, where do you live again, what do you do for work, what’s your momma’s number?”

…Hell they’re even takin’ all them jobs at Goldman Sachs as stockbrokers…well, in that case, gotta bail them out if it all crashes down, can’t have the underlings on the same grass as us, they wouldn’t work no more…now would they?

But as such, freight trains exist, Ferromex, as well as, the old ladder, but build that WALL keep ’em out, deprive them of soap, water, food and don’t allow anyone to help them out, it’s not inhumane, they’re not concentration camps, no, no, no, that’s what reservations are for, ask your fellow Native American over some whisky…

I witness racism on the streets, hear about it in the media, on the wall of SJW’s, white, black, brown, yellow, green, it don’t matter, join the rainbow.

Cops killin’ based on color, riots ensue, nothin’ happens, slap that man on the wrist, he’s wearin’ a suit, he’s part of the fighters for our freedom. That badge and that gun don’t mean brutality or mass exodus. Give him a year, we need more like em, keep the people in line, the community safe, the violence and drugs segregated by area, that’ll fix it, sacrificing a few innocent lives here and there, it’s for the greater good, national security.

A man pilfers billions of dollars wearin’ a nice suit, cuff him gently, make sure he don’t bump his head goin’ into the police cruiser, pay back all those he swindled…pff…not like it’s a Ponzi Scheme…oh wait…we aren’t talkin’ bout SSI…just the rich swindlin’ the rich to get richer and live behind a facade of the Joneses while the banks take over, true enforcers of the wall, it’s 1984 all over again people.  Soon they’ll burn all our books, this very poem, every lamppost will have CCTV, locations monitored, punishment ensued before a crime happens, it’ll be blissful utopia.

Higher education, private prisons, money, money, money? Pay the man, break the law, that man’ll get paid somehow, you can’t win, routine keeps the mind from self-destruction, so get back to work, but…

It’s not Broken….

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Brian Cray is not a cyclist. He’s not a hitchhiker. He’s not a train hopper or an adrenaline junkie. He’s just an ordinary man with gypsy blood in his veins, who can’t seem to settle down. Nothing defines him. He goes wherever this world takes him on this journey we call life, roaming the world, at will, by any means. He aspires for a life of indefinite travel, a tiny home in the woods for him and his wife, and any work that keeps him wanderin’. Brian Cray is a travel writer at heart, sharing his stories with the world one keystroke at a time.

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