Prison Is Private Property

May 17, 2010

The have-not’s have had enough and now they’re out to kill the king of what looks to be an empire where short-term earnings mean everything. There’s a pressure to deliver here. You’re going to get hurt if you don’t play this game. Nobody will ever know, just the CEO to the CFO; If you can work some magic we’ll double our paychecks, so make the numbers look right. Wall Street is a ruthless mistress with a quick and painful judgment. Temptation is in deep now, threads of greed run through this fabric, weaving tapestries over your eyes to prepare the landscapes for disaster; anthrax or a plane crash, biochemical, or even nuclear attacks. Integrity is too damn expensive, discount the price but still, nobody’s buying so come up with the money boys or you’ll be choking on a barrel. It just might be your own finger squeezing on the trigger. Call in the reinforcements.

You’re working hard on a life of your own, with three square meals and a place to call home. The American Dream can be found here if you keep your mouth closed. But the teeth you keep clinched is what’s killing the chance. Your mouth is watering as you imagine swallowing each new possession. It’s building a prison.

You’ll think there’s a place where you made it, you’ve searched for this your whole life. New answers will satisfy but then you realize it’s never enough. That’s the slickest marketing I’ve ever seen; a spiraling trap. With enough ambition and a firm set of rules you can have anything you want, you can walk right out into the world and capture and kill God in a little box or a little book to be understood. But no one can argue with the good sense and strength of a solid foundation or with the weakness born when corruption is the rule and not the exception. I’m trying hard to forget everything I thought I knew. You’ve climbed much too high to let the truth stop you now or to concern yourself with the investments of lesser, honest men. The ladder has been brutal, but the payoff is just around the corner. Call in the reinforcements.

You’re working hard on a life of your own, with three square meals and a place to call home, but you keep getting lost each time you walk out your front door. Me? I’ve got a family. I know real well what it means to make sure there’s enough food on the table each day, but I’d rather starve than be a whore for an empty living.



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