Subsidized Housing

    In the 19th century, the increase of industrial production in metropolitan areas required city planning at an unprecedented level. Industrial workers needed to live near their jobs, while the spread of communism served to increase pressure on governments by making them more aware of their disadvantages. As many workers woke to the idea of being cheated by capitalists, governments needed to appease them to assuage the threat of revolution. One of the ways in which this was done was by assisting low-wage workers with housing in the form of subsidies. Many European governments subsidized housing to help their poor earn a comfortable living.
    In the USA this wasn't as big a problem. Though industrialization was strong, the spread of communism wasn't, so the government did little to assist with housing. This inaction had large repercussions on the country. Suburbia was able to blossom in our country because there was a lot of land, and it wasn't hampered by government regulation. It also meant that housing was dominated by markets instead of government, which has not slowed to this day. Housing is so expensive in this country that many middle-class families cannot afford it. As landowners get richer by acquiring more land, middle- and low-class citizens are left paying rent on the biggest asset that should be able to afford.
    I believe the USA should have followed in Europe's footsteps on this matter. If we'd implemented subsidized housing instead of laying the roots of lavish suburbia, more people could afford them today. We wouldn't be so obsessed with our lawns and how many rooms we could fill. It was a mistake to believe the market would make anyone happy but the rich. All the average citizen should want is a humble abode with a small yard, which would also be better for the environment. The government has not helped in shaping the kind of moderation we need to save the planet, much less ourselves.

Marriage

  Marriage is when you see each other's flaws so well that you are the only ones who can truly understand them. You understand your partner's flaws even more than they do. Accepting the ugliness inside each other is what it's all about. Nobody else in the world sees my insecurities like my wife, and nobody has worked so hard to accept me into their life. There is no higher gratefulness than finding someone who is willing to go through the hell you give them and still take care of you. I'm told that it is in these murky waters of imperfection that the real treasure of a person can be found, things that are also only seen by the spouse. The endearing aspect of each imperfection is the glue that holds us together, binding our souls like improvised photographs and the secrets they reveal. Over time the light gets refined, you see the unfolding history of their struggle against imperfection, the battles they lost and the wars they won. And you think to yourself, only marriage can really motivate someone to improve the idiosyncrasies that drive everyone else nuts. Nothing exposes us so timelessly like the bond of true love. There is someone who knows us inside and out, better than we know ourselves, as if an angel were put on earth to watch over every move we make. Marriage is a lifelong lesson in becoming angelic.

Blue Gold: Cobalt Mining in the Congo

    Behind the curtain of Africa, a stirring in the Earth shakes it to the core. This is a place where workers are taken advantage of to such extremes that one has to wonder where the line between slavery and labor begins. In the south Congo, enormous pits have been dug out to be mined for cobalt, the world's new gold. Cobalt is in high demand this century because smartphones and electric vehicles need the lightest metal capable of operating a portable battery. As I write this, mining companies are raiding and abusing the area, as they have been for centuries involving other resources. But this time it isn't the west who is the guilty party, unless you consider the consumers who buy these products. This time it is China, the manufacturers of our precious batteries. The Chinese have taken advantage of a weak, easily bribed government that reaps most of their country's profits, allowing the workers to suffer from little safety regulation and child labor. Often tunnels collapse in these mines, leaving countless children injured or dead. Wages are so low that families have no choice but to send their children to the mines to help gather what little income they can. Most aren't even guaranteed a steady wage, but a piece-rate based on the quality of ore that is mined. You can spend all day toiling in the mines and not get anything for it if your ores do not meet a standard. Some of the mines are heavily guarded by soldiers with guns whose directive is to punish any wrongdoing. 
    This place is an abomination of greed, reminding us that forces conspiring to slave labor are very much still alive. What's also scary is there is very little public information on these civil rights violations. The companies in charge of these operations use force and intimidation along with tight security to make sure the conditions are not reported on. It took a candid, undercover reporter to uncover what is happening in the South Congo for the rest of the world. His name is Siddharth Kara and his book is called "Cobalt Red: How The Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives".
    As consumers I'm afraid not much can be done to reduce these violations by boycotting. Bringing public awareness to the situation might inspire the DRC to a more rigorous human rights campaign. Because it's the DRC government that holds the most power here. Reporters and NGOs can do all they can to inspire activism, but what it boils down to is that a government is allowing this to happen. Smartphones are an enormous part of modern living; we won't be abandoning them any time soon. The same can be said for electric vehicles, which will be essential to slow down climate change if governments are not willing to invest in other alternative sources of fuel for vehicles. It seems that sometimes when we purchase things for a good cause, like protecting the environment, it comes at the expense of workers suffering in places like the DRC. It's a sad state of affairs and totally unnecessary. The mining companies need to treat these people with the dignity they deserve, and the DRC government needs to care about more about its people than money. Blue gold won't last forever. Human dignity will.
    This situation underlines the importance of education in modern policymaking. Because the government does not adequately fund education, Congolese children are easily taken advantage of, especially when their families need help. Widespread poverty reinforces itself by lack of education, since children without a strong curriculum are free to work at a younger age. And without labor laws, they are easily scooped up by companies who feel they are better off hiring children who aren't aware that labor standards exist in much of the world; and even if they are aware, the families can afford to keep them in school. Rather than studying for something better, unaddressed poverty pits them into some of the most atrocious mining conditions the world has ever known. Unfortunately, their stories are being kept under wraps by authority figures, but with continued adventurous reporting by people like Mr. Kara, more of them can be heard. 
    Satellite imagery could also help expose what is happening in the area. Yet if it is not in the interest of international governments, this will be ignored as well. Thus, the international community does have a small part to play in securing a healthy life for these people.

Chega de Saudade

No more blues.
Only the cyan tropical sea
Bathing in palm-green aquamarine
Seashell corals caressing the sand,
The fronds swaying in a lazy breeze
In the wistful heart of Brazil,
Where cyclones never wander.
 
Inside us all is a fire that burns,
Mistaken for purity of light,
Oxidized to movement,
Devouring anything to sustain us,
Like the crude oil beneath our feet
Ignited to the heavens.
 
This is the last place I’ll go,
Where the wind doesn’t infect
These blackened lungs aflame,
That wheeze with desire for release,
A distant smoke, a fallen ember,
We are victims of our own success.

Skyline Alibi

 In the cold night air I put the car in drive,
 Advance down the avenue with controversy on the radio,
 Roaming for closed cafes, delivering mazurkas.
 The Space Needle reaches for the stars
 Like a Lucas film skyport
 Surrounded by a city on clouds,
 Windows glimmering in coronal mass reflection.
 Empty streets, empty stores,
 Sleepless offenders on broken sidewalks,
 Arms in the cracks reaching to drag them under.
 Rounding the corner of Lake Union
 A blasted construction site breaks through the Earth,
 Sending me adrift down the Amazon
 With only the rosary to guide me
 Upon wings of the radio waves:
 Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,
 Blessed art thou among women,
 And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

 It repeats without mercy, echoing off the skyscrapers, 

 Reverberating through the periwinkle corridor of my soul
 To baptize me in a wreath of submission,
 Forgotten sorrows of a city sanctified by chant.
 Next stop is the shelter, where they all sleep,
 Where I am the only man allowed all night,
 Murmuring in their beds, those angels stolen from paradise,
 Forced to repeat it on the unstable pavement.
 Their screams erupt beyond the cemetery,
 Leaking through the sewers, waking all the homeless,
 Panhandlers spooked by a distant chorus
 That follows the rosary down twisted alleys,
 Entering their nightmares- those men who wronged them,
 Entering me.

Ghosting You

The time has come
To accept what has happened,
Eliminate confusion,
Resolve uncertainty,
Be comfortable with it.
We are not connected,
We never were,
Though my mind deceives me
Every night, as I’m reminded
What could have been.
I lay in the dark
Imagining you watching me,
Always watching me,
As I watch you.
But it’s about me,
This recurring dream,
This nightmare I haven’t reconciled,
Teaching me to let you go,
In body and spirit
Never to see you again.
I am not for you,
I will stop watching you,
Pretending I love you,
That I’m someone important
To someone I never knew.
Be gone from my dreams,
Vanish like the daylight
You so often gave me
When my spirit
Wandered in darkness.
People don’t see me
The way I see you,
Your pictures posted on the feed
As if they were mine for the taking.
It was all I wanted back then,
To have a picture of you,
To hold in my hands forever,
An imprint of desire
Tattooed on my palms,
Now enshrined by my eyes
That glitter before the screen.
It will take all my strength
Not to visit you,
To release the power
You bewitched over me,
That inspired me to travel,
Foolishly imitating
Your fragments of impression,
To not become ghosted
By my own feed of shame.

Pencil

Some call it senseless
To write a poem
That doesn’t rhyme.
I call it liberating
To be free of conventions,
To maximize potential,
The ingenuity of possibility.
A pencil that dances
Is a mind that explores
Every angle of a memory,
Leaving traces of truth
On a surgical atlas,
Locations excracted from soul,
Scribbled out of chaos, into order,
Bending time to the whims of chance.
How free it is, to write from the heart,
To write what you know,
Without worrying about the rules.
The pencil that roams
Through cracks in the structure
Often finds the weakness therein,
Gathering unseen support
For emotional destinies
Undetected by measure and reason.