The 26th of November was troublesome for me. I'm dedicated to publishing an Am I Not Human? campaign post on the 27th every month. Like clockwork. I resented the power cord for dying and rendering my pc useless until I could replace it. Major companies wanted at least 69.99 for a 'universal' model I wasn't sure would work, and they advised they couldn't test it in advance because they didn't have demo models. In the end I opted for ebay and found one for 10. Mark-ups are funny aye?. This meant at least a week's wait due to the seller's location. The library was closed, and the internet cafe in town folded earlier last year. I was smartphone-less (I've since commenced shopping for one), and I
I had to make myself content with handwriting my offering.
Thankfully Mom came to the rescue and posted a notice about what was going on and that my post would be delayed. Everything happens for a reason. I want to thank all of you who were able to post and raise awareness to the many human rights causes in need of more voices.
My belated offering for December is short. Some months I'll be posting an artistic message (much like the Am I Not Human artivism issue). I encourage artists out there to do the same. It can capture attention and help remind folks how easily freedoms can be taken. We should never get too comfortable and forget our human siblings who had the rugs taken from under them. We are one, despite illusion.
To eat from your cupboards and leave nothing
To salt your lands and poison the sea
To twist your view of spirituality
so as to alter your recognition of Divinity
These are not acts come from humanity
but hollow-conscienced seeds of depravity
grown into mind-clouding grains arranged
in ciphered dining options
upon the plates of the unwitting
Blooms not fit for consumption
strewn in salads of the genetically modified,
carefully coiffed tortured beasts and their clones.
Seeds making for themselves a hollow home,
when grown and consumed.
Stealing logic, choking air from the heart.
Making the silblings of the tormented forget,
that they're related, and probably next;
if these wilted petals continue to decorate world display
masquerading as 'premium offering'
so few seem still-willing to renounce, for
all the amnesia that has taken us.
For my siblings in lands looted; deprived of rightful resources ripped from its girth, barred from technology, or unable to speak on their own behalf for the stifling force of puppet-tyrants pulled by hidden strings leading to another power, I ask:
Thankyou for reading.