earlier this week, I gave some thought to the notion of freedom we are sold here in the u.s.

with it came a great deal of anger.

here's the poem that came forth from that anger: https://queertypes.com/posts/61-not-freedom.html

I'll reproduce the text below in a series of tweets for ease of access.

"Not Freedom"

Not freedom,
as in markets and false democracies,
where our lives are traded, measured in dollars and pennies,
and reforms come too few, and too late.

Not freedom,
as in predatory landlords with their rows of “properties”,
while many find themselves without shelter or house,
and many more lack any place to call home.

Not freedom,
as in “comforts” sold to us upon the bloody platter of imperialist theft,
snake oil in exchange for the lives of our siblings and comrades,
here and abroad.

Not freedom,
as in life barely lived, paycheck to paycheck,
alienated from our own labor,
and always one misstep away from misery.

But liberation!

Liberation!
as in the right to a dignified, fulfilling, loving life for all.

Liberation!
as in organizing in revolutionary solidarity against all oppressors.

Liberation!
as in Get Your Boots Off Our Gods Damned Necks!

Liberation!
as in never again will they own our lives.

Towards liberation, always. So that we may be truly free.

I post this poem with great thanks to @MiQL and other friends,

who took time from their day to look it over and share their thoughts, before I published.

I appreciate y'all