There has to be more to life than this; to sit in a cage, in a tank, in a pond, and work for a man with whom you have no bond.
To monotonise your weeks, your years and your life for a suffocating slavery of struggle and strife.
You work, you come home, you eat and you sleep, and spend three weeks out of fifty-two in a haze full of drink, only to return to the grind and the gruel; they’re using you; you’re not free, you’re a tool.
They say that we’re free in a democracy today, a society where we are liberated to do and to say, the things that come naturally, that help us to live, when really we’re restricted to what we can give; what we can give to the government and the powers that be because the money I earn, well it doesn’t go to me; it goes on my house, on my car, on my food; all the things you tell me I should have, I should need; but what do I learn?
I learn that I work as a slave and a fool; I’m not really me, I’m just a catalyst for world fuel.
What if I quit and jumped off the globe, defied the expectations of those who uphold the rules and the decisions the precedents they set, what if I left and left them upset?
Upset that I didn’t pay tax for their riches? Upset that I didn’t work under their conditions? Upset that I wandered and didn’t conform, I am not a robot, I will defy norms.
I don’t want to sit and be brainwashed by X-Factor, by Britain’s Got Talent and the BBC lacklustre.
I’m fed a pile of drivel and shit, the propaganda machine using smoke and mirrors to hit; to hit us where it hurts and keep us confined to our laptops and sofas so we never can find, a truth in the world, a truth that is pure, a truth that is just, is good and will cure; it will cure all the doubts, the scepticism and shallowness, it will cure you racists and bigots and charlatans.
It will take off our blinkers and open our eyes, the world is not bad, it’s just been disguised.
We’ve been engineered to hate one another to be wary of difference, of obscure culture. To accept other people and to open your hearts, to get off your arse and to change and to start; if you sit there in mindless, brain-numbing trance; same in, same out, a repetitive dance, what will you achieve from your time on earth? What can you write in your memoirs for the next generational birth?
Oh, “I came and I conquered, pro-created and worked”? Isn’t that what generations before us did, and for what worth?
There has to be more to life than this. Don’t just repeat the same day over and over until you’re caught in the abyss.
To break free of the shackles and scare yourself to death because you’re defying what “they” said was for the best; it will probably make you feel more alive than the thirty-odd years you spent plodding along to survive.
I don’t want to be in a world where I work just to survive; I want a world where I’m free to grow and to thrive.
It’s possible if you think outside the box, but most of you won’t…on you my words will be lost.
Chasing Amy-Lou 