what if all the souls on earth had cellophane skin and we could see every organ and watch the blood flow to and fro from the heart as it beats steadily beneath the ribs what then would we choose to hate for surely man cannot live without hate would we choose how a voice sounds oh i suspect not we’d probably rely on color again except now the color of one’s eyes
everybody knows
there ain’t no equal justice
those with money
use the law for protection
those without serious cash
are who they’re protected from
the law is mostly
a contract with the wealthy
to protect and serve
their personal needs and wants
while offering to the poor
a convoluted promise
like the biblical ones
where heaven’s a real reward
so too is justice
set forth as attainable
though neither one of the two
has ever been proven true
we’re
classroom discussions
presented
as if
we were
separate
from
the rest
of
society
society’s
social problems
to be
resolved
via
classroom exercises
in
words
volloyed between students
and
professors
as if
a tennis match
proposed solutions
without
any contact
with
reality
speaking
of
homelessness
and
starvation
before
heading home
or
dining out
we’re
the distorted
middletown characters
written
into the pages
of
intellectual fantasy
ignored
or
harassed
along the sidewalks
of
nonexistent
typical cities
for
each city
is as unique
as
the souls
that
occupy it
so
formulaic strategies
are
fated to fail
and
when they do
the discussion
returns
to
the classroom
from its inception the law has been unequal for those under it its function has been and continues to be to maintain servitude and the clear separation of the haves from the have nots a systematic method of oppression that gives the illusion of freedom and the fasle expectation of impartial justice bolstered by the bedtime stories from history about heroic acts that never occurred or occurred in a less than courageous manner
a broken down
old man
just
a bag
of
bones
but
he’s
the
intended result
of
systemic injustice
in
an apartheid
or
caste system society
a government society
with
or
without
the label
democracy
anyway
such labels
merely conceal
the oppressor’s
identity
behind
some flag draped
excuse
for
the oppression
in reality
the only thing
that matters
is
that in the end
of
the social processing
you end up with
a broken down
old man
just
a bag
of
bones
who’s preoccupied
with
survival
and
is unable
to do
anything else
could see the wall’s slats where plaster had fallen off and could hear strange sounds could also feel the cold air warning me to stay covered to remain in this old place not to tempt the fates accept the dead bird in hand like some before me languishing in lifeless rooms accepting death before death mindless survival routines sanctioned by the church and other corporations for the good of all according to marketing but what was outside the walls now here’s the surprising part outside the first walls is another set of walls actually a maze so once you feel you are free you find that you’re still walled in at least with a better view
first
a procedural note
arrivals
are processed
based upon
time of entry
no consideration
is given
for
age
sex
social status
race
or
religious affiliation
we
want to thank you
in advance
for
your patience
we
are currently
experiencing
a high volume
of
traffic
as
a consequence
your waiting time
may be
exceptionally long
but
let’s face it
this
is
the afterlife
and
you have
nothing
but
time
i see you smirking that spiteful glare in your eyes as you leave the room mouthing practiced platitudes know you’ve fooled only yourself deceivers are often fools
Read Between the Minds 