All my words are tired But they still show up; Poems felt easier when I Suffered from existential angst. Now I bore myself with My own words trying To put a verse together. If my voice had a New shape it would be political. I’m done with love poems!
they tell me the system is broken but it’s only true for you and me. I have been ripped of my essence, sold it for a few cents. everything has a price, including my integrity. my life is a paradox, I reek of hypocrisy. 404: error. Integrity not found. my parents were colonizers I buy iphones. I call myself an anarchist but all i do is reading books. occasionally I write a blog entry. I want to scream at the top of my lungs: nothing is lost yet. your labor is your power. strike and scream with me.
Collapse the system. Every day. In every way.
Buy less. Buy local. Starve the corporations that exploit us.
Delete social media. Disrupt their algorithms. Manipulate data. Make noise. Make it louder.
Be unpredictable. Be relentless. Be ungovernable.
When the system falls, will you break free and choose a new reality? Or will you cling to the ruling elite, the same group that has enslaved humanity for millennia? Do not fear. Kings have been decapitated for less.
This is not the end. This is a new beginning.
Listening to Fiona Apple – Tidal on repeat
Reading Plato – Phaedo
Wishing we were spending time together talking
a wave of emotions
a calm storm
washes me ashore
out of water I can’t breathe
i want to speak to you but you’re unreachable
and I would like to share with you:
Tolstoy, Anna Karenina John Steinbeck, East of Eden William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five José Saramago, Death with Interruptions Al Berto, O Medo Sylvia Plath, Ariel Henry Thoreau, Walden & Civil Disobedience Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass William Shakespeare, Sonnets Bernardo Soares, The Book of Disquiet Homer, Odyssey The Hermetica Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism Is a Humanism Albert Camus, The Stranger Plato, The Republic Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or Rudolf Rocker, Anarcho-Syndicalism Fernando Pessoa, The Anarchistic Banker Ted Kaczynski, Industrial Society and Its Future Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving A. S. Neill, Summerhill
Every morning, I awoke with hope, To find you in the spaces we shared: Your room, the attic, the forest behind our house, The terrace, within your wardrobe, amidst the smell of your clothes. Even now, I continue my search Of you in the faces of others, Seeking glimpses of you in everyone I meet.
There comes a time in each life when the heart turns inward, listening not to the rhythm of the world but to the quiet beat of its own truth
Quote from a chat with ChatGPT-4o
