I ask myself this every day. From both the angle of ‘how can so many people really do nothing’ but also from the side of what it would take for those of us doing things to do more things, to do the big destructive things that risk imploding our lives for justice. They’re both hard questions.
I pay subscribed to Ahmed’s blog when he turned on payment, because he does excellent reporting and also to stick it to Stripe. I understand your not wanting them to have any of your money. I respect that. I want to help support such reporters and also point out that I want to stick it to Stripe. This is a monetized platform and we can’t make them hire someone else, but we can point it out.
We are rive and our leaves shake. Split apart violent. At the seems. A riff of the original rift. The trees halved and timbered for the take. The bees not let to be. The hives honey, a quake. We hold the keys. If only we’d awake. Can us not remain silent? Lift the lid. Kid with our id. We’ve stepped on the trails, stood trial for all of this violence. Witnessed the worst. Maybe the worst of it, silence. As if unfolding a curse. Jared. Hard. Our thirst. I’m not an island and still I slander the underhander. What if that’s me? Maybe when I stand under I’m free? In the bend there’s a lee. Where no one vies. We all are safe here to cry out these lies. Tears of these fears, weave woven for years. And into and out through the land, our waterfalls. The sounds, snug in the words, hearing our calls. And as always, the river breathes us. Bathes us. Dare I say saves us? Behead of our capillaries, the sap of our Aires; our brave fools. Trying to follow the rules. Instead use me as your tool. Don’t need ice to warm what’s cool. The story keeps undoing from this never ending spool and in the end we’re always, and nothing but a ghoul. We goo well. We gaga too, our baby babbles as we bob for apples. Here we are, we are the tree. The wise old oak of what will be. The acorn of scorn. The seen of our cry, “I am.” And our needs. We are here to bite bits which programs our feeds.
I ask myself this every day. From both the angle of ‘how can so many people really do nothing’ but also from the side of what it would take for those of us doing things to do more things, to do the big destructive things that risk imploding our lives for justice. They’re both hard questions.
I pay subscribed to Ahmed’s blog when he turned on payment, because he does excellent reporting and also to stick it to Stripe. I understand your not wanting them to have any of your money. I respect that. I want to help support such reporters and also point out that I want to stick it to Stripe. This is a monetized platform and we can’t make them hire someone else, but we can point it out.
I’m so thankful for you Miep.
We are rive and our leaves shake. Split apart violent. At the seems. A riff of the original rift. The trees halved and timbered for the take. The bees not let to be. The hives honey, a quake. We hold the keys. If only we’d awake. Can us not remain silent? Lift the lid. Kid with our id. We’ve stepped on the trails, stood trial for all of this violence. Witnessed the worst. Maybe the worst of it, silence. As if unfolding a curse. Jared. Hard. Our thirst. I’m not an island and still I slander the underhander. What if that’s me? Maybe when I stand under I’m free? In the bend there’s a lee. Where no one vies. We all are safe here to cry out these lies. Tears of these fears, weave woven for years. And into and out through the land, our waterfalls. The sounds, snug in the words, hearing our calls. And as always, the river breathes us. Bathes us. Dare I say saves us? Behead of our capillaries, the sap of our Aires; our brave fools. Trying to follow the rules. Instead use me as your tool. Don’t need ice to warm what’s cool. The story keeps undoing from this never ending spool and in the end we’re always, and nothing but a ghoul. We goo well. We gaga too, our baby babbles as we bob for apples. Here we are, we are the tree. The wise old oak of what will be. The acorn of scorn. The seen of our cry, “I am.” And our needs. We are here to bite bits which programs our feeds.