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poetry

Night Sweat Heart Attack

Corruption has never been so vile in the United States as it is today and so blatant that even children recognize it in black suit promises and will challenge it directly without fear.  The children will save us!  But does that let the rest of us off the hook?

I’m 41 years old and accutely aware of my own mortality as peri menopausal night sweats drench my yoga pants and statin cholesterol pills join my psych med assortment.  I won’t lie that I try to avoid the newspapers.

I counter demonstrated at abortion clinics in the 90s to support the rights of all women and now, I live in a town that lost it’s Planned Parenthood.  The long slide into the abyss is far from over and yet, I still have to mow my lawn and open my mail.  Adulthood is just a lingering distraction from all that matters in the universe whether your goal is to party into oblivion with a heroin needle sticking in you or just do your shift at McDonald’s and dive into Netflix once you earn release.

I tell myself I do good when I sign up for the CSA, buy a composter, recycle my consumption, drink fair trade coffee, plant a tree, give $1 to a street person, pray once a year, adopt a dog, get a USED book, ad nauseum.  It’s all just token feel good bullshit on a stick that gets me through the day and I’m still that person that refuses to put political stickers on my SUV because I don’t want some asshole to come along and scratch up my property because I expressed myself publicly.

Hello!  Middle class white people!  Do ya feel me?  I hope not.

Adulthood is polite society membership where you keep it real by shutting your face.  Unless you’re on Facebook or commenting on a news site and really want to argue with thousands of strangers who all believe they are intelligent and superior to your intelligence.

At least that is how it used to be.  With an outspoken, classless, and less than cordial leader in the White House, many adults are letting loose in public and have dropped all pretenses, even when alone.  Free to be as ugly as you want to be.

When you peel away the fear, often masked as anger, it’s all about protecting interests.  My land.  My job.  My things.  My life.  Adulthood is undeniably and inextricably about ownership, including the identity of oneself and preserving it all as well as the power to pass it on to our own future namesakes, tax free, of course.

I’m not going to claim I came up with this and am pure genius for putting it down in print but I’m reflecting today on the personal pressures that cause us to speak out or remain silent and also how that shapes our individual lives in terms of decisions, especially when it comes to altruistic ideals.  Who doesn’t want to do the right thing?  Maybe a psycho.  We all have different ideas about what the right thing is though and whether we should impose that on other things and people.

I will just leave it with this poem I penned back in 2013, five years ago, about a personal experience with a local business that sells eco-conscious clothing.  You can draw your own conclusions.

______________________

Peace Silk / mrrogers / 8.31.13

Thousands of silk worms are boiled alive in their cocoons

to make domesticated silk,” the petite saleswoman

explained at Clothing Matters. I wanted to tell her

that I never wore silk. I didn’t even like silk. The slippery

fabric made me nauseous. “Silk worms feel pain.” My eyes

glazed while my sister listened politely. I glanced at the $200

price tag. You can do the right thing Jesus whispered or was it

the free market stuck in my ear?

About missyrogers

Lifelong Michigander, early 40s, craft addict, chihuahua collector, coffee drinker, recovering human being, bipolar I, electronic music lover, bullshit caller, 5' tall, my blood is organic, and I refuse to be anything else. I will write until I die.

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Queen of the bad haircuts with coffee for blood.

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