Men and women of substance agree that until we murder poverty, Humanity remains a lie.
I am disgusted – and I wish to make that clear – by the men and women who glorify poverty by highlighting the supposed purity of that state of pseudo-existence. I’ve never seen these low-lives throw away their properties, renouncing their daily comforts and going down to the streets with the thieves and beggars. We do not know what it feels like to be unsure of tomorrow’s arrival. We do not know what it feels like to sleep with an empty stomach. And we must stop pretending that we do.
There is no beauty in poverty.
I’ve seen with my own eyes the shadows of men scavenging through piles of whatever the Rich Man had left them.
I’ve seen half-naked mothers with their naked babies between piles of solid wastes, ordered to become one with civilization’s filth.
I’ve seen expressionless men and women walking as if they’ve just witnessed a horrible tragedy called Life.
These men and women and children have been reduced to such a state of pseudo-existence that they are devoid of or struggle to obtain the opportunity to smile at the little things in life that makes you and me go fucking ‘awwww’. There is no beauty in that.
Our laughable notions of compassion and, especially, pity have participated in maintaining the very structures of society that allow poverty to breathe. Instead of murdering the beast, we have dedicated our finest minds to the cowardly exercise of taming it, of giving it some food and entertainment and of offering its victims a bottomless pit of hope. We throw them Panem, we offer them Circenses, we give them the closest thing to being human that our lifestyles would allow. But that is not an answer. The answer is to despise their existence. And until the Wildean principle that holds true the following is followed, We are a lie:
“The proper aim is to try and reconstruct society on such a basis that poverty will be impossible.”
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