The Philanthropy Of Fulfilled Vocations, UBI & Time Purposefully Spent

We know that time as we know it

Is futile and finite

Has a specific sound even, a cost even,

A rhythm that is often not ours,

Is claimed in exchange, evened out with money

Most of the time totally beneath its

Invaluable value

Life itself, spent, to serve someone else’s purpose

An old-fashioned system’s routine-infested lunacy,

Work for life, work for existence, work for the basics,

Forget about life, forget about being the best you can

For yourself, for those closest to you and for the world

You belong to, let everyone suffer and get up early

To exist, to pay the bills, to lacerate and perish

Our vocations that would make the world a better place

A place for human beings, a nature that blossoms,

But we do kill, we do love getting stuck,

In a supposed comfort zone that force-feeds us,

Likes us dependable and anxious

Patronises and smothers us

Throws us away as soon as we dry out.

It exhausts and extracts the basics out of us

Until the greater power within us is attacked

Unseen, unused, exploited nonetheless,

The energy and time gone into the wrong

Direction, a dump, unrecognised, marshlands

Of dead dreams, unknown, unborn, spreading

Unstarted and unfinished, nameless, unclaimed,

Repressed and extinguished, for nothing at all,

Life wasted, for nothing at all, the gas bill,

The rent, away with the old rotten dogmas

That tell us we are unworthy of food and clean water

Or a roof above our heads or mental health or purposefulness

Unless we work and work and work bullshit jobs

That robots can do, and it’s never good enough,

There’s this job, oh, and that job, this one is better than that one,

(And if there is no job you cannot live)

Paying you for basics and it’s never enough,

Wasting your life, your time, for basics (that are vital),

We need because we’re human, that’s why we work,

We’re controlled, forced into alien actions,

Doing things we wouldn’t do if we didn’t have to,

Doing things we don’t enjoy at least eight hours a day,

The market is constructed that way, careers of nothingness,

Function, function, fit in, fit in, fall on your knees,

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your mercy, I can eat.

Who do you think you are?

Who tricked us into this,

Who built this vicious cycle that benefits a few

And exasperates us all?

Who told you at school, at home, on the street,

Wherever, that you weren’t good at anything,

That you had nothing in you?

Why are misanthropes teaching and spewing their bile?

You should have hold on to the worth within yourself.

And there is time. Time to say no.

Time to reclaim your own time.

Time to redefine your own worth.

Time that you could spend wisely.

Away with the money-hoarding vultures

That made you believe that change lies in their hands only,

That you are powerless, that they determine how the world goes

And your life, your time, look how they distributed their wealth,

All that money that could save a world, do you see who they really are?

Don’t give them the power that you never lost in the first place.

Invest in what is golden to you

And by extension, the world,

Do a better job than they did.

Photo by Ioana Motoc on

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