Pockets Of The Profit Maker

Everything is necessary

In everyone’s

Own needing of necessities!

The machines are taking over

At least

It seems that way!

The laborer

Is becoming more and more

Scarce to see these days

John Henry was the first to

Fight this

Way of working

Where machines

Take the place

Of

Muscle, blood, and bone 

I heard his song

Many times as a boy

This

Folk hero in the lands

Of

My youth

Gave us hope that mankind

Wouldn’t completely

Be taken over

By oil

By steel

By plastic

Yet

We all kind of knew

This day was coming

We just didn’t expect 

It would be so soon

Or

Maybe we never realized

How fast it would

All go by

I guess

There are too many profits

To be maximized

Too much money

To be made

To not go this route

And the machines are

Not only taking the place

Of

Working flesh

They’re taking the position

Of

The mind!

Of

Critical thinking!

Is it possible

In centuries to come

We will have bodies like jellyfish

And

Grunt like cavemen?

The sun will burn brighter

Than ever by then

And the air

Will be too poisoned to breathe

Machines will be our only

Choice

To work outside

Mechanical movement underneath

A radioactive sun  

All for the pockets

Of

The profit maker

To continue

Making their money!

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

Boudicca

Boudicca

Queen of the Iceni

Wife of Prasutagus

Daughter of Britain!

Upon her husband’s death

Rome came to take everything

That was his

Not recognizing

His daughters as heirs

His wife as

The new ruler reigning over

Her people!

Boudicca was flogged

Humiliated

Beaten

Blood-soaked   

Her two daughters raped

Her property seized

Her soul stripped of all

She knew and loved!

But

Rome would soon regret

Their treatment of Boudicca

Revenge on Rome was hers

With

Fury and fire

Sword and chariot

The uprising she led

Wiped out whole Roman cities

Now known as

Colchester, London, and St. Albans

They were

Burned to the ground

A culture cleansing of anything

Roman!  

60 years after

Nailing Christ to the cross

Pushing a spear into his side

Watching his blood

Soak the sandy soil beneath him

The same generation

Of

Roman soldiers

Now retired

And

Living their last days

Off the plunders of Rome

In these cities she sacked

Would live their last hours 

On the crucifix!

Eighty thousand Romans

In London alone

Were put to the sword by Boudicca!

To this day

There is a layer of charred earth

That blankets the underbelly

Of

The city

Scorched soil seeping

With the souls of the dead

In the end Boudicca

Was defeated on the battlefield

By Suetonius

Thousands of her people lay dead

The great Roman author Tacitus wrote

She survived the battle

But took her life

With poison later that day!

No one truly knows

Boudicca’s final hours

But her story of resistance

And

Fighting oppression

Will live on

For centuries to come!

Blunt

An old friend of mine

I’ve known for thirty years

Told me

I was blunt the other day

He then said

It was one of the reasons

He has remained friends

With me

For so long

He knew exactly where

He stood with me

At all times!

I was surprised by this

I said, I thought I believed

I was careful

With people’s feelings

My wife then joined in

The conversation

“You thought you were

a sugar coater?”

A smile then pulled gently

Across her face

His wife chuckled

“You’re no sugar coater!”

I spent the next few hours

Pondering all this

Like Archimedes

Pondering Physics

I wondered

What people would think

If I didn’t try to sugar coat

My words?

A few days later

And

Hours into a day

Of

Dealing with customers

A coworker said to me

As her brow

Slowly moved upwards

“You don’t have to be

antagonistic with the customers”

I said,

“I’m not.”

“But I’m also not promising them

unicorns and rainbows”

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

It’s Amazing

Yes, it’s amazing

What we believe is

Not coming for us

But

We know

Good and well

Is!

We put sweets into our body

Knowing the crash

Is going to come

But we eat them anyways!

The drunks drink their drinks

Hoping

They escape the hangover

Coming the next day

But it will come

With all of its glory

All of its misery

All at the same time!

The voter wants

So badly to believe

The politician’s lies

Knowing deep down

There is no possible way

They can deliver

All they have promised

And

The ones who become life long

Anything

In a position of power

Become

Way to Godlike to the masses

My mother used to say,

“The preacher needs to go after

A few years. Because the flock

Will start to worship him

More than God!”

Yes

Food, alcohol, money and greed

Will all lead

To your soul being consumed

By the wolves of the world! 

Like Tuberculosis eating away

At the lungs!

We all are guilty of wanting

Something different

Than what we know

Is on the way

For us

Shutting our eyes to what we

Clearly see leading to its arrival

From my book,  When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

Jason E. Hodges Quotes

“Never be an artist that starts worshiping yourself or believe your little group is better than anyone outside of it. For, you are nothing more than a grain of sand on a hillside in this world of ours. Even Da Vinci’s work is only glanced at then scrolled past on a phone or computer these days. Climb down off your throne and become humble once more.” Jason E. Hodges

“Your only guarantee in this life is that eventually it will end. So make it extraordinary. Live like tomorrow won’t start for you.” Jason E. Hodges

“The biggest weapon that threatens us all is, mankind’s stupidity.” Jason E. Hodges    

“To forgive is powerful. To not remember the reasons why you had to forgive is foolish. So continue on with open eyes and see all that’s before you.” Jason E. Hodges

“To pluck out debris from one’s eye can be quite painful. To dig into one’s self can be unbearable. But in order to move forward we must pluck out the painful and fill our souls with hope that the pain never returns.” Jason E. Hodges

“I’d rather fall climbing a mountain hand in hand with someone I felt was my equal than to make it to the top by stepping on them.” Jason E. Hodges

“Humans have the ability to rewrite history. Within a few decades it is not even questioned. Stories of the past become as real as the world you walk through today. Wars are waged over false history. Sins are denied. All for mankind to move forward and feel comfortable about its past. Your true history is written in the stars. Look up, breathe in, and be humbled by the ones who came before you. The ones who have suffered, who have endured, who have overcome. Their blood is alive in you. Their spirits roam freely in the heavens above.” Jason E Hodges      

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

The Journal

Bound by leather

Worn by age

My journal

Truly understands me

Its tattered pages creak

When I turn them

Too many rides

Of

Backpack adventures

And

Day to day travels!

My journal is the tool

That allows me to drift

Drift farther

And farther

From reality

Or

Into reality

It’s hard to say at this point?

Yes

I study the world around me

Like Sabrina Pasterski

Studies physics! 

I give all that I have

To make sense

Of

This world!

I have no PHD

No college degree

But what I do

Have is the drive

To understand

All that surrounds me!   

And I think

Sometimes

Are my thoughts

What others call hearing voices?

Do their dreams

Sound so foreign

So beyond

What they believe is obtainable

They do not hear

Dreams whispering in their mind?

Some truly seem

So programmed by the world

That surrounds them

That any differing

From the daily planer

Must be a sickness!

If you speak

And

Say what others

Are afraid to say

You are easily dismissed

Mocked for being different

Yet praised

If your writing becomes viable!

For now

Journal

You're safe

I won’t let them read you

I’ll keep you locked away

Far from their sight

Until you are needed

To awaken

The minds of the sleeping

Sleepwalking

Their way right through life

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

Workplace Machine

The morning sun

Bends and twists

It changes

Minute by minute

In the reflection

Of

The buildings

Sky-glass

Windows of sparkle

All for the lifeless sheep

To gaze upon

As they crawl

Their way into work

Their faces are long

And

Lost of expression

All because

They’re waiting for

The workweek to begin

Waiting for the coffee

To drip from the dripper

Self-inflicted misery

For another day’s pay!

God knows how many times

I’ve been in their shoes

And

How I’m still there

A few days a week!

Within a few hours of working

The counting of minutes will start

A quick glance at the wall clock

To see

The day is far from over

And

The Boss

The Shepherd

Is constantly frowning

His smile was lost

With the collapses of the market

The fall

Of

His 401k something-another

His morning

Drives at the range

Are now nothing

But a memory

A thought

Fleeting at that!

So the sheep

Have good cause to worry

To sweat

To cry secretly

In the restroom

But before all of this

Worry in the workplace

This stress to make

Green colored paper

They must travel

Like ants to the mound

Bumper to bumper

The sheep

Are fed

To the workplace machine

One soul at a time

Losing all that was

And

Becoming all they never

Intended to be!

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave