Thinking About Freedom

 

No one can give you freedom , no more than anyone can give you breath ,
any more than any one can give you a blessing if you don't want to receive it.
Rolling with Spinoza on his long logic river.
Self validating with memories and memes coming together in dreams you can't hold but that can squeeze you,
tranquilizing the timelines step by step
til all that's seen is sacred,
even the inner workings of species that will do anything to keep on eating.

Thinking about the evil of economics when the law of supply and demand shakes down the invisible hand.
This social science that categorizes and then dishes out the lightning strikes for the under funded,
the principles fuzzy , using infinity to explain the actions of finite little fingers,
grubby , muddling the numbers and bundling assets that come out of your pockets,
that come out of the Earth's assets under all those sunsets.


There's no cheating the dialectic and its train wrecking
when confusion blows in picking out blues riffs that got you thinking about some facsimile of heroin if there can be no freedom.
Or thinking about some night time nebulous fragrance that disorientates the hero worshipping so nobody is following the leaders to the front lines deaf and dumb to the blinders.
Thinking about self-preservation by learning to love in the rain without complaining.