A Rant.

A facebook friend recently posted his thoughts about the work ethic of kids today. It was a respectable post, and his ideas were sound. 

Where did we go wrong as a country?

Why do these kids not want to work hard?

Why does everyone want everything for free?

Why does everyone feel entitled?

Did our generation fail as parents?

We got married young (I was 20 and my beautiful wife Antoinette Allen was19), we had no money,and we had a baby on the way.

I had absolutely no skills, I worked in a print shop during the day (trying to learn a craft) (Thank you Bill Conroy) I worked at 7:11 at night and I drove a cab on weekends. I worked 80 hours a week for pretty much the entire decade. It was very difficult! Because life is very difficult.

I’m not looking for accolades, as many people worked as hard or harder than I did. My point is life is hard ,work hard and good things will come, and it is rewarding in the end……..

At first, my response was a desire to be a part of that feeling. I work 80 hour weeks every week. It’s the life of a restaurant manager, and it’s the life I chose. My work ethic is sometimes too strong, and I often have to work on trying to work less. So I felt good indentifying with that mindset. It was that whole “Clint Eastwood and his generation were tough sons of bitches, and they got dirty, they fought hard, and they took respect.” That’s a cool way to be seen: the idolization of grit.

But the more I thought about it, the more I started to see cracks in how that mindset applied today. Work ethic is something that shouldn’t disappear. You should always work hard for what you want. But there are other parts of that thought process that have become outdated, and it resonates loudly. Kids nowadays have it so much differently than even people in their 30’s now, let alone 50’s and 60’s do. Growing up as a millenial has this undertone of freedom to it that no generation before it has had. There are opportunities that these kids have that if they accomplish them in their lifetime, the world will change for the better. There could be an end to poverty. There could be global travel in under 4 hours, increasing commerce and world trade. There could be commercialized space flight for everyone. There could be enough food to end world hunger. We could see an eradication of cigarettes. The world is a very different place now that 30 years ago. As times change, so eventually must everything else.

 So after some time, I responded with the following :

Kids nowadays see people everywhere becoming famous for nothing. Look at Kim Kardashian, look at the thirty richest YouTube stars. It’s amazing how much kids nowadays are inundated with this perception that life is perfect if you can get enough people to notice you. ‘Likes’ on facebook and instagram, retweets on twitter and views on videos are literally influential enough to make these kids choose between life and death. Still, it’s not enough to blame pop culture. This up and coming generation has witnessed the degeneration of the world. The amount of people worlwide in poverty has surpassed preindustrial revolution numbers. Politicians get away with whatever they want. The US government does what they please, and a fair amount of the rest of the world hates us because of decent propaganda. These kids come into this being told ‘time to join this system we have. The system sucks, and you’ll never feel like you have enough, and even though there’s enough technology in the world to make nearly all work automated, we’re going to need you to sell us your time for the rest of your enjoyable life.’ Oh boy. Sign me up. I’m not saying your generation was wrong, or to blame. Your mindset is firm and respectable. You work hard, and eventually you make it just far enough to escape the system. But tell me, if you had to do it over, and you saw that maybe there was a way to escape the system early, would you want that?

Maybe I’m living in a fantasy. Maybe my hopes for this generation are misplaced. But maybe I’m not, and maybe there is hope. Maybe there is more to see than we can see. 

The horizon is far, and littered with storms. But I choose to see the sunrise, for through the clouds our next port awaits as haven.

-Beau

The Clock Inches

For the second day in a row, I’ve given in just the tiniest bit to the underbelly of poetry. This was a piece I had written a while back. I cleaned it up (it needed it terribly), and now post it here for whomever would take part in its enjoyment. It’s an uptempo, wordy diatribe on the pestilence of clocks, and how watching time pass can both open your eyes to things you realize the seconds on a clock will take away from you, but also give you hope that the past can stay in the past, and moving forward is not only a possibility, but an inevitability.  So without any further wasting of your time(haha), I present The Clock Inches.

 

 

Envisions colliding, during renditions in hiding,

with just thirty of those twenty four slowly passing-

ticking and locking of movements still rocking,

no matter how harshly one’s forcing does try-

clock inches.

 

futures solemnly prove in which moments do move

that a passionate class above nothing is true,

and promise of less gruesome fates is of cowardly uses

and useless to muses and playwrights in writing.

 

Fighting what comes and giving a face to the hatred thou fears

can endear when your thumb loses hold

to giving a living life grace.

Envisions promise to make light of countless endeavors

and tremors will make use of limbs.

 

How evil a moment, taking what faking you thought had forgotten

the whims of before-

for beating and treating, I daresay you implore

of what comes in justly coming inches.

 

Renditions repeating re-treatments to darkening, low-lying

opening depths of an earth-clearing

just for who’s noble-

not thou, nor the dearest of taking traitors shall know

of the beckoning growl as an earning is needed

while no rules are heeded;

destiny shows only the foul.

 

Wholly days passing all, never slowing to crawl,

with just thirty of those twenty four passing-

ticking and locking of movements still rocking,

no matter how harshly one’s forcing does try-

clock inches.

 

 

Whether you like it, or you don’t, I’d love to hear feedback.  Thanks for checking out my blog.  🙂

The Anti-Alibaster King

Something a little different from me. It kind of wallows on the darker side of life. 

 

He woke up to a lullaby of soundless singing,

empty sounds like whispered dreaming.

The warmth between his shallow thoughts was darling

as it danced with lines of lies he’d spoke before.

His pillow was full of dreams he dreamed,

it held all his deepest thoughts,

and when he woke he liked to drain it empty.

 

 

His memories never really made him think,

and he never really blinked either.

He never really rounded on his thoughts

that he never thought were wrong.

He played a song of symphony,

such phony words would drip from his lips.

His heart, it seemed a violinist;

his hatred, the great composer.

 

 

His wants were merely what he thought;

his needs were satisfied from with out.

His solidarity was all he really grasped,

and not even he was keen on that.

He found a way to say what he said,

and do what he did without regret.

He made it seem like everyone else was guilty,

while he alone survived.

 

 

He marveled at his genius ways until the day he fell;

he drank his poison, threw it up, and stared in disbelief.

He found his hands were marked with guilt

from all that he had wove,

His clothes grew torn and tattered,

and when he walked into a room,

everyone would smile from the stories they had heard.

 

 

His shallow thoughts were what he grew in,

wading in his vested waste. 

A taste perhaps of what he’d done,

brought back to cross his path.

Life is short, live it long.

The days we live, at times they number themselves. The verbose, they overflow and mimic the truths that lie quaking in all the corners of the world. Our lives have become inundated by over-abundances of relationships with images we praise and worship like a sex-starved teenager over dalliances. Yet fundamental necessities like knowledge and progression evade even the most minuscule portions of our daily intake. We’ve become focused on the wrong things, and we’ve yet to realize it. Daydreams are lasting longer than the days themselves; nightmares are plaguing those who realize it. Where shall the truth lie when the lies are becoming truths?

The Derivatives of Solidarity

Life in the trenches of unequivocal solidarity can be daunting. The thought that you might be alone in not only the thoughts you think, but also in the way in which your brain processes the world around you; well, once it’s there, it has an incredible way of making sure it stays present in every facet of your life. It’s a cyclical, cynical notion that shows up every time your hopes and aspirations decide to throw a party. It’s a derivative of never having assurance that others understand you, but it’s true cause lies somewhere closer to not wanting to give in to what you know is not meant for you. A true intellectual is vastly aware that they tend to be alone when confronted by popular ideas they oppose, yet as someone who is tormented by the thought of being alone, there are few worse fates. How do you find balance between knowing you’re right while standing alone in your belief and wanting to be closest to those around you who do not see the world as you do? It’s corruptive and torturous, I can tell you that much.

Vindication can only come by letting go. It’s about trusting that those who follow will either know as you know, or follow blindly behind your torch. Knowledge is power, and if you have it, you are responsible for it. We are bestowed with gift and talents, all of us different. Each of these abilities has the power to lift us up to better places, but we must often sacrifice to get there. Sometimes the choices are difficult, and sometimes they come easier. Either way, the world is laid out before you. It’s up to you to do the best you can with it, and no one else can judge you for the things you accomplish. 

There are three sides to every story. Yours, mine, and no one’s. And that is precisely why no one is usually right.

There aren’t necessarily always right and wrong ways to do things. Often times, simply doing something that you are unsure about can bring forth emotions and reactions you were both unprepared for and unaware of. Venturing into unknown territory can be a scary, yet vilifying experience, and can sometimes result in a very big payoff.
I am not saying that you should throw caution to the wind and set sail on a journey pointed nowhere with little preparation. Always be prepared for anything. But trying something new, something different, something unknown is how great steps are taken. It’s how discoveries are made.

It’s funny how we look back at new ventures that paid off and wonder why we hadn’t done it sooner, but like any change, or any glance into the unlit path that is our future, we are scared. Taking steps where steps are uncertain takes guts. But it also build character, and shows you who are. It’s what moral fiber is made of. It’s what vindication is made of. Venturing to new ground is an essential foundation of our success, not only as individuals, but as a species.

Be new. Be bold. Be different. Be the first.

Pry your eyes from light, and suddenly the darkness seems not so black.

It’s rarely the things you have done in your life- when perspective forces your mind to to venture down the path of regrets and malices- that causes regret; more often than not, it’s the things you haven’t accomplished that you always thought you would, or dreamed you could, that will give way to the demon doors of perpetual longing. Vindication can only come from living, and truly living fully.

A life in the moment is a moment valued, while a life in the cause of waiting is a cause wasted.

Give yourself no reason to wait. Advance your mind when all possible, and if there is time and space, allow your body to follow. Give allowance to your mind to go everywhere, think everything. See all you can in the chaos around you. Feel everything you can manage to bring within your grasp. Taste every bite, and linger on each flavor as it dances on your palate. Smell every fragrance floating in a mindless draft. Hear what everyone says to you, but more importantly, do not heed every word. You will know best what is best for you.

And one day, when looking back on one of perspective’s ventures, if you fins that regret has seeped into crevices between the rocks of thought and life of the mountain you’ve built from hunger and thirst, and hope and failure, and trust and persecution, well then you will know that even the best of us will never master perfection. It will always evade us in a dance of seduction, leading us in twirls and circles- yet the song will never end, and our bodies eventually tire. Such is the footwork of life.

“You can only be as lost as your inability to look up.

Many of us fight battles daily with antagonists inside our minds that poke and prod us, and lead us to temptations. These voices in our heads are like fishermen, their reels and hooks casting out as far as possible to drag worldly evils within our scope. They pull these temptuous, terrible desires right up to our noses and force us to breathe of them. They block out all else, and make us live in our weaknesses. And at our weakest, they pull us in. They drown us in everything we fight against. We fail. We don’t just fail once. We repeat it. We become habitual failures. We succumb to our growing like of failure. It’s easier to fail, and people don’t look down on you too badly because, hey, they fail at things, too.
Stop.
Breathe.
Look around.
You’re not alone. We’re all here. We’re all failing at something. If we’re not failing, we’re not alive. Failure is a symptom of progression. It’s a marker on a road, one of hundreds of thousands, and you’re a runner, jogging past. Each marker is one more failure on the route to your destination. Each failure is one step closer to being better. And so, each failure gets harder to overcome.
Failure doesn’t want to be left alone. Failure is miserable, and miserable loves company. Failure and misery don’t want to let you go, and they don’t want to see you succeed.
So keep taking steps. Keep failing. Every now and then, look back at all those failures you were better than, and learn from them. Each failure will then make you a little better. Then one day, those failures won’t be hidden in the path ahead of you. They’ll be lying in the road, and you’ll be smart enough to step right over.

Alice: How long…

Alice: How long is forever?
White Rabbit: Sometimes, just one second.

There are often many things from which procrastion can help to lead us astray. The notion of taking today, tomorrow, and forever for granted is one thought which we must learn to distance ourselves from. Complacency will always find a way of dangling your dreams before your eyes, like stars above the skies. As we allow tomorrow to always remain just beyond the dawn, we relinquish any doubt of hope that our current situation is subject to change. Every new day can be an opportunity for change, and any change, big or small can lead to greatness. Our endeavors are only limited by the stretch of our imaginations.