You are Just a Dollar Sign
Contributed by Emily Hoover | gargoyle@flagler.edu
It’s amazing to see how easily they are bought by your blood-stained dollars. They’ll sell their soul for a measly $1,500.
It’s mind-boggling to witness the prostitution of men who are barely able to vote; they cannot even balance a checkbook and there they march, clad in digital camo. They march for your, for your dollars.
It’s brilliant—this hypnosis. They follow you, Shepard. You wrap them in the pleasant patchwork of Old Glory and wipe the blood, sweat, and tears with your, with your dollars.
It’s remarkable—this ignorance. They are lobotomized by your promise of honor, glory, employment, and financial security. They drool as faceless organisms. You clean their mouths with your, with your dollars.
It’s incredible—this loyalty. They refuse to dissolve, although they have already disintegrated into cannon fodder for your war. You lead them astray, dehumanize them, with the scent of your, of your dollars.
It’s impeccable—this filth. Robotic, they wipe the scandal from the windows. Pathetic, they sweep the suffering underneath the rug. They are slaves for your, for your dollars.
It’s amazing to see them bloom in through your insidious resilience. They give their fruit to you. They wilt for your, for your dollars.
As sacrificial lambs, they are slaughtered. They do it for you. Only you. Daddy Warbucks.
When I was 22 I joined the service because I had nothing. I didn’t finish I school, nor did I feel that college was for me if I had finished school. I was broke and homeless, I needed a change of scenery. So I left Polk county ready to do anything for money. It seemed like the right thing to do. Especially, that within 24 hours I went from loser to respectable and upstanding member of society. I got what I needed money and shelter.
I reflect on my time in the service fondly. However, I really like this piece because it paints the picture of my past. I know things now that I would have never know if I didn’t serve. I realize how cheap life is from some of the places I have been deployed. The funny thing is that I was payed to do the bidding of the political machine. Not what the people want, but only what they have been fed by the media and weapons of mass-destruction. Now that I’m out of the service I’m in college and I know about the Military Industrial Complex which breads exactly what this piece talks to me about.
You seem not to understand the basic principal of monetary value. People are slaves to their limitless wants and desires. Not to an abstract concept of exchangeable value.
Take a Macroeconomics class…
And your vague point is?
Is this a bright-eyed and youthfilled exercise in experimental poetics or a purple kush saturated I-just-took-my-first-political-science-class,maaan-and-I-am-like-so-disillusioned hurl?