Crows can’t eat magic beatbox beats

Treachery is humanities pursuant until we become less affluent in what attracts it.

The scent is unmistakable, like blood in the water or decay in the air.

The scent of humanities deceit is practically everywhere.

And treachery needs but a sniff, a whiff on the wind.

Blood in the water

Let the feast begin.

The beast, they hunt in packs.

For Horsemen never relax.

Authors note.

Kind of “doom and gloom” I know but the hope is carried within the first sentence.

Becoming less affluent in the trappings of entitled affluency (👈🏼 not a real word) is the key to everything and there is an incredibly simplified way to look at it.

But somebody already beat me to it.

“The Golden Rule”

Sing it with me because saying it is not as fun or as powerful.

We all should be humming and strutting this tune to the fantastic inner beatbox magic we all play everyday.

Instead, many don’t head the steeds that tread the trails they leave behind.

The isms of discrimination are the breadcrumbs that crows squawk about.

So many crumbs

So many squawks

Too many crows

Too many flocks

For Horseman never relax unless your breadcrumbs are taxed.

And crows can’t eat magic beatbox beats.

Leave a Reply