(Photographed while hiking with friends on La Roqueta Island)
Woods. Word. Yes.
Herban art, meet urban art.
Juxtaposition
I'm always fishin'
for a lil' more freedom.
He-dom. She-dom. We-dom.
All getting along,
being our favorite song,
not making each other wrong...
Further down the trail are forked choices
with lots of distracting, untruthful voices
saying "Come this way!" "Buy this crap!"
But deep inside, we know it's a trap.
Freedom is, first, an inside job
I must first master the inner mob
before I can see the outer gangs
of government, police and taxation fangs.
Also on the path is serenity.
Always available. Always free.
But to choose it, means I renounce something less.
I can live with that, for the sweet caress
of moments, and meals, and motley mashups
with folks who are real, and lives that don't smashup
the rights of others, my sisters and brothers
to me, being free, is for brave motherf*ckers.
'Cause scars will come. And losses, too.
You didn't think freedom was ALL good times, did you?
Some choices are so hard, many choose enslavement
rather than face life without a good insurance rate.
This thing costs, and it's worth it, from what I can tell.
That other paved road led to an unoriginal hell
filled with plastics and rumors and emptiness
but this wild path I chose, I gave it my "YES!"
Hey! I'm Erika, and I'm curious about using language as a catalytic + restorative liberation technology (using words to make universal keys, instead of invisible chains). I call it word alchemy, and am experimenting with that here on Steemit. If you like this sort of oddly flavored thing, add me to your feed: 