Thoughts: Food Poisioning, The Perfect Crime.

How many places did you eat at in the last few days? How many different types of food did you eat out of your fridge or other peoples fridge? If you got deeply, gut-wrenching, vomit-all-over-the-floor, sick food-poisoning; would you know for sure where you got it from?

I'd never thought that deeply on the subject until I worked as a dishwasher at a Fancy Restaurant and saw how sloppy, disgusting, and frankly careless the other dishwashers, waiters, and even Chef's took their job. Mostly everyone was too rushed to really pay attention to cleanliness, and really, not that many cases of food poisoning win in court. Why? Because it's nearly impossible to prove! You'd have to eat at the same Burger King every single day for a whole month, with no snacks in between, to prove that they might have poisoned you. And even then, could it have been the toothpaste you used or some chemical in the air of your house?

I guess the point I'm getting at is that today's "modern" society is based on a lot more Trust in our common human beings than most people like to think about. It only takes a few of the proverbial "someone-pooped-in-the-refried-beans-at-Taco-Bell" stories before the average person never wants to think about it again; but we all have to eat. Not only that, but most of us have to rely on an army of unknown people daily, who we trust, are not poisoning our food or any of the ingredients in it. Because if they were, there is not a damn thing we could do about it.

"But what about the FDA (Food and Drug Administration), or AC (Agricultural Committee), and other Government Agencies? Aren't they watching out for us? Don't they keep our food safe?" My answer to that is "ha, ha, ha. As if." A few intelligent counties and cities (like Los Angeles, California) have instituted programs where they inspect restaurants randomly and give them ratings which are posted for the customer to see and this is a good start, but any teenager knows how to clean their room on inspection day and keep it filthy the rest of the time.

In the end, all I'm saying is, if you are looking to hurt someone, look no further than the food supply. And if all you wealthy people out there think there is nothing better than being served food by the poor, I urge you to think again. It's a lot easier to piss on your salad than it is to successfully lobby for fairer wages.

Poem: Lord of Money

Why do so many
of This World's
financially wealthiest individuals
act in the most
morally reprehensible of Ways?

It's because the
Lord of Material Things
rules This World.
Call It The Devil,
The Lord of the Crossroads,
Shaitain, whatever.
But some of the Wealthy are It's people,
they are rewarded with cash
for doing It's bidding.
Though most of them have no idea of it,
and wouldn't believe it,
nor even care much,
if they did.

Yes... there is Karma.
For every action there is an equal
and opposite
reaction.
It is Vast.
Complicated.
Final.
In many Ages
Poverty
has been revered as Holy,
but rarely has Wealth
had such Honor.
There is a reason.

It rules This World
and tests us daily.
It's not Forever,
nor the only Force at hand.
There is Goodness too,
and Agents of Good,
among us.
There is Help at Hand.

I honor The Master,
as I pass through It's World,
my eye's marvel with all that I see.
The Pain of the Many,
the Wealth owned by One,
Ignorance and Wisdom at Play.
Forces of the Ages
reflecting their dancing,
pray tangles my mind
to their sway.
Observing my fellows
on the wheel of Samsara
Compassion,
not pity,
I Pray.

Poem: Monied (Again)

Money is the Opiate of the Masses, now.

Four walls and a sink, to call my own.
I own my room for 7 days, for $300.
The price of dinner for my dad.

A Real Person again.
High from Privacy,
exhilarated by my money in the bank.
All the world exists for me.
Want to eat: I can.
Want to sleep: I can.
All it took was money, after all that.

Half my Neuroses melt away instantly
-Simply because I now have choices.
Choices the broke person lacks,
simple privacy the homeless don't have,
Respect, which money does buy.

How can I explain the impotence,
the insecurity, the hunger, the jealousy,
the fears, the shame, the filth,
that comes,
from simply being without?

I can't.

No one can understand
unless they have been there.
Ask an old drunk, dying alone in a gutter.
Ask a full-fledged junkie, screaming himself silent
in a jail cell, for lack of medicine.
Ask a new mother, who has just given birth.

You'll never understand any of them.
Until you are one.

My "friends" come back around,
happy to see I have money again.
Now they can see me
without guilt or shame.

I use my room's sink ten times a day,
to wash my face,
because I can; I paid for it.
How wealthy America truly is,
where for $300 a week
I get my own room with a sink
for 7 days.
No more washing at Safeway
under the dubious eyes
of Security Guards.
I check on my room several times a day;
Expecting it to disappear like a mirage.
But every time I turn the lock,
everything is just as I left it.
Lights still on, window still open,
bed unmade, smelling of my brand of cigarettes.

Home at last.
Home at last.
Home at last,
for now.

Thoughts: Entertainment

What do I miss most from the days when I wasn't a bum? Today it's Entertainment. The wealthy first-world Sheeple of planet Earth have lives filled with the most intricate orchestrated entertainments imaginable. From TV to movies to music to video games to sports to computers to dildos; the list goes on and on forever.

While the bums like me are expelled from this Gardebn of Eden-tainment. Confined to radios, books, newspapers, and simply watching everyone else.
The Sheeple flit from one mode of sensory absorbtion to another like butterflies; using thier brains like TV remote controls to change the channel whenever they want. God I miss it. While we, the poor, musr endure whatever is placed before us. We have little choice about what sensory inputs we can observe. Oh sure, we can try our hardest to be surrounded by enjoyable things (and you'd better beleive I do), but in the end it's simply too exhausting when your money needs to be spent on food, not movies.

This is why Alcoholism and drug addiction is so rampant amoungst the poor; they have no other modes of entertainment and what's worse, they are surrounded by other people who do have access to The Fun. The poor are an island stuck in the middle of the wealthy. Forced to watch the rich at play, see comercials for items they will never be able to afford, lust after sexual partners who would never in a million years be with them.

To be poor, in a rich world, is the definition of "Frustration."