A word poem by yours truly. Inspired by TARDIS shirt guy (Nate?) I met last night who ranted to me for a good 20 minutes about how stupid the concept of money is
Money is a symbol of the system that enables an old man to control you and your mind
Money buys the ad that brainwashes millions into buying the product that arrives at your door 5-6 business days later, stuffing billions into the cheerful pocket of a whistling crook
That product that you didn’t even want but some chick on the screen told you it would make you happy so you got it
you open the box to discover that all that lies inside is a cheap plastic reminder that your problems can never be fixed by material goods
Your problems of self-induced hatred can only be fixed from the self not the man stuffing his pockets full of the dreams of people like you
What even is money? A figment of our imagination made from the strength of a failing economy.
We put value to a piece of paper which is supposed to mean something to us but some can’t even name the face staring back at them
Why spend what does not have actual value? Why give up things that have a concrete purpose for a slip of paper that says you’re richer than you were before
Accumulating wealth has no purpose you see for a pile of green paper can’t make you happy or healthy or love.
Happy, healthy, loving people hold more value in the people around them than the slips of paper and plastic in their back pocket
Place that cheap reminder of your so called stability in the back pocket and think about the smiling face in front of you for a change
For that face will fade if the paper’s value exceeds their love
And soon you will see nothing but your pockets full of dreams of men just like you, who hoped that love would be granted by worthless cash and plastic tricks
Don’t be the old man
I fucking love this movie so much you have no idea.
He’s tripping on acid
I tried to scroll past