No.199: The Future is Ours.


They will tell you
to pay your dues
in their sorry excuse for a meritocracy
right after they tell you
to pay a kidney's worth
to get a shreddable college degree
from slow universities
that were designed to teach--
or should I say mass produce--
approval-thirsty zombie youth
that only know and only do
what they were told to do.

They will tell you
to pay your dues,
and you will pay them quicker than
their younger selves ever could,
and when you ask for the bread,
they will tell you it's out of their hands,
that patience is a virtue,
that this silliness
is just the way the system works.

They will tell you
to put in the work,
they will forget to mention that
the work could've been done 15 months ago
if they didn't respond to change
like an endangered species.
They will call you inexperienced,
and therefore unqualified.
Call out their feces.

They will tell you whatever it takes
to keep you
according to spec.
They will give you your daily bread
and make you forget
that you signed up for a daily feast,
with wine,
for deep passion
and a goal compelling enough
to make you develop grown people habits,
for work in line with the way your brain is wired,
for life—
you weren't fashioned in your mother's womb to make a living,
don't let them tell you any different.

Matter of fact,
when they tell you nonsense
and make it seem like you the one who's trippin’,
walk out the door,
leave the gatekeepers with a tip for their time,
bet the bag on yourself,
and show them how you dine.
Eat like a beast, cherish the sweat,
give ‘em a wink, and grind with a smile.

They can tell us to pay their inflated dues till the sun falls down.
We will do what we want.
The future is ours.

Cover Photo by Joey Nicotra on Unsplash