2012 is a Joke

Emergency! Market forces extracted wealth from the working classes then dropped it on a bad spin at the roulette wheel. Now they want Geico to recover their losses. The Tea Party (serfs that protect wealth of landlords) toast the idea.

The Democrats realize their President is a better conservative than the Blue Dogs ever were. I'm not making this up. Obama was vetted, like all candidates, on his willingness to protect status quo. He knew he could deliver the Dems, the Blacks and the Liberals to Wall Street in a nice neat package.

The Corporate powers do their part by painting the rational republicans, disgruntled democrats into a corner with tea party red; figuring they can keep serving poison economic policies as long as Obama is at the counter.

That stratagem will get most of us in 2012. But there's a few hardcore thinkers that will continue to bitch and blog and explore third party candidates. Who knows, since we were able to get a Black president in 2008, maybe we can get a Green one in 2012.

Photo: Walter Reed ambulance taken w/iPhone 3Gs and Hipstamatic app (Salvador 84, Ina's 1935).

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Grind.

Laughing about landscaping, courtyards, included utilities. Girlfriends wanting to be neighbors. Taking about abuse on Oprah, not seeing the showbiz, but the therapy. Business causal. Face brightened when I returned from vacation. This string of consciousness doesn't lead any where.

I deserve more than I am willing to give. Standing in the rain unneccarrarily doesn't proof I'm waterproof. Worn out shoes, but fingernails have no soil beneath and all money is dirty. No more time to dream. Time to work.

Photo: Shades taken with iPhone3Gs, Hipstamatic app (John S, DreamCanvas)

August

It's setting now, the sun is leaving me. Such a short time ago I retrieved this fire.

Hoisted on my back, we caught up on gestures and tones AT&T can't reproduce. I had my family for the summer.

Baked. So close to the sun, my skin blackens and I didn't recognize myself. All the music, arguing, laughter, crying and cooking; my solitary self recedes to let the family man through. A Black man with his suns and daughters, getting blacker in their light.

Breeze. Whispers from the pages of a calendar about the first day of school and accrued vacation. So much undone, so much accomplished, a lot of hugs. Honesty blushes for solitude. The duality doesn't subtract from my love, but only years have taught me that.

The sun is heading for the chariot, packing for the trip across the sky. The shadows grow long, touch my face, dry my tears.

Photo: drinking glass near desk lamp taken w/iPhone 3Gs and Lo-Mob app.