Americana

They had finally caught up to me; everything had caught up to me. This crazy life, this town-to-town life; the anchor was dragging. My debts, my warrants; how did these people find me? I thought I’d shook those money hungry bastards, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d changed my address on paper. The phone calls were constant, oh how popular I must have been getting those daily calls from ‘800’ and ‘405’ numbers. Mrs. Hodes was a regular; I rarely bothered to listen to the messages of these pigs, they wanted every last cent I didn’t have. These people knew me, knew my name.  Their voices seemed more hardened every time I took a peak at the messages they left, never a reason, just a title and a call-back number. Every time they would tell me how easy it would be to sort this all out, just pay the debt, pay the warrants off. I have these debts for a reason; my money is mine, not theirs. These Washington’s and Lincoln’s and my wallet are there for my interest; when money is cheap, I’ll gladly hand it over. This life is mine; they think they can just buy my freedom. A country run on debt, all we can ever look forward too is paying off our bills before we starve to death. A couple thousand dollars for being too poor to pay off a ticket in time, take out a loan to pay for your mistake. I’d rather drive around that damn state then give those bureaucrats my hard earned dollar. At what point is my job no long for food, for rent; they throw us in this cycle expecting us to pay our way out. Where’s the freedom, when does adding more fines and fees teach us not to break society’s rules? These rules designed to keep us all civil, to create a defined set of order. How can these thieves decide what is and isn’t ‘just law,’ they have no clue who the citizen is; we are just a quota to them. The law of capitalists, arrested to pay the bills of the gluttonous yuppies in office. These elected officials, writing blank checks with no concern, no ethic. Why do they need my freedom, how does this create order? They try to run my life with fear; they need to realize that I’ve caught on to their hypocrisies. Stay mobile, stay under the radar; my life since I left that small town in Washington. The longer you stay, the faster they find you. They try to run our lives with fear, they call it democracy. The second you mess up you’re done, they can’t let Americans fuck with their system. Of the people, by the gun; there’s only one American dream. What was this dream they were thinking of when they wrote that constitution? Go to school, get a job, buy your neck-ties; that is no dream of mine. They say there is no other option; we are bread for this cycle of Americana. You leave the path and you fail, you die poor, alone. Freedom has been redefined; freedom is the college you attend.

I have been roaming awhile, searching from my dream, my Americana. This search for freedom and a way to make it all work in this fucked up world. They don’t want us to live on our own terms, we can’t live on our own terms; join the system, become the system.  Tried and true these systems work, these systems work for the blind at heart. Follow the rules, love Jesus, live a clean life. They don’t want us to think about the possibilities of anything different; society defines which drugs are acceptable for our character. Alcohol dumbs us, it numbs us; this is ok. It’s not up for debate that it alters our mindset, that it changes our being; who decided that this was the drug, the acceptable drug? Everyone needs a crutch, something to lean on when we are weak. The bible, bourbon, and bud; they’re all the same to me. These things expand our thought no matter how you look at it; anything in this world can alter your perspective. These clean-cut Christian rulers don’t know what they’re saying; no weed, no mushrooms, no acid, yet they preach to me that they are evil. Propaganda says these things will ruin us, destroy our very being; the weak are destroyed, the weak can be broken by anything. It’s not the drugs, it’s the weak. These self medications don’t make us better, they don’t make me better; they provide perspective in a world that has too many facets for any soul to comprehend in entirety. Harmful to my health, look at the statistics; lung cancer, alcoholism, these things are weeding out the week. Why haven’t I seen a sign for kids dying of acid overdoses, marijuana overdoses; these numbers are infants, they don’t matter on the grand scale. This country tells us to believe, to trust, but who is really looking at the facts? These conservative dictators try to justify it all, they run our lives with fear and shame. They are afraid of change and the possibility of a lost vote. A country of propaganda; who has time for the facts, who has time to live?

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