Look at these meeks, sitting on their golden thrones towered far above us all. They say that they are “churches”, “revolutionary to society”, and I suppose they’re correct to some extent, but I’d say “regressive”. Their 24-karat filth has slipped into our executive branch, trying to maintain the “olden ways” that is not fit for the growing child that is our country. But, at the same time, they help summon the latest, most advanced forms of technology, from electric cars to developing computer intelligence. I wouldn’t say it makes up for backwards ideologies, though–it’s essentially one step forward, two steps back. They remain untouched by law, morals or sympathy, not only failing to learn from the history they so desperately want to return to, but also stepping on the necks of the very people that keep them afloat and aristocratic.
Why don’t we care enough? Why don’t we use our constitutional right to ensure that we still matter? Are we waiting for the royal minority to sting us deep enough in the esophagus, so we can truly unite and put the uncertainty and distrust aside? The gilded lilies, in all their glory, buy away their humanity, their ability to feel satisfied. But when will they wake up, realize it’s not enough, and decide to settle for less to try and undo the damage they inflicted upon themselves? A little donation wouldn’t hurt once in a while.
Alas, in all my spite, I can’t deny that I, too, harness the dormant desire to be known.. the desire to be respected, have power and authority.. the desire to be held in high enough regard that when I give orders, they are followed.. the desire to step on everyone else just to cease the headaches about bills, shed that “working class” shell.
Maybe, I can touch my fingers upon that desire when I get my degree, establish my own business. Perhaps, the rats scurrying around all over will actually give a damn about what I have to say. I could exercise, too. So I’ll be abundant in wealth and strength. The perfect combination for lubricating myself out of the grasp of law, and even karma if my luck keeps up. How nice it would be, to have things my way and my way only, at least once in a while.
There’s just one catch. When I rise to wealth, I will not kick my sustainers or companions so much as anywhere in the ankle. It’s just not me. My heart, my soul wasn’t built to be tarnished by wealth or greed…even a drop of black in the chambers would cramp me good. I would know–even if I were to don the mask of Satan, I could only do so for so long. I won’t breathe the fresh air inside my lungs, I won’t see the vast horizons that only serve to bless my eyes. Whether it be karma, sense…or my own dissatisfaction to draw me out of the frenzy, I know that I cannot be a phony forever.
Art by Alexia Terpe
