lets not conflate labor with labor

I tiptoe off another weekday. Labor day in a country that condescends towards workers, ah, the poor dears. Colorful, this is one more day for wealthy people to have picnics or blog, and laborers, well… go to work. I was raised to be in the mightiest of the bureaucratic cushioned rooms, to never see nobody outside of the countryclub clan. But i always notice, it starts with the arts,

“He was playing real good, for free
Nobody stopped to hear him
Though he played so sweet and high
They knew he had never
Been on their T.V”

splashing through the gutters, humming over the fighter planes in the adjacent skies, all swooping to coax ooh and ahs from the republicans, greying in the sun. spoilt without refrigeration, yesee these days i will never understand, thank god it isn’t always like this. everyone wants to sequester, make things better, produce one polished finished product, phantom it away into some murky private collection, get a big name, big jewels, big metal, big fame,

big everything.

alone with a chisel, whoever gives a fuck about money or applause?

the tumbling droves of drone cubicle workers buying tickets with their salary, humming for a hive. now you come on back yall when im outta wine and plaster

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