[the Writing of Kuypers]
[JanetKuypers.com][Bio][Poems][Prose]
Hope And Taxes
1
I went through my tax forms this year and well, It should be one big compliment because I didn’t even work last year and the federal government understood this and they told me that I didn’t owe them a penny.
and the state government, well, try to put out of your mind the fact that we are in the state with the second largest city in the country here, they told me this year that I owed them more money In taxes than I have ever owed them - even when I even had a job.
and all I keep thinking here is that it’s just not fair, and well, I don’t use the cops ever and I never use the fire department and well, I PAY health insurance, I don’t use the hospitals unless I need to. But it is beginning to look like I am paying for too much and that I should just stop having to pay for it all.
I’m beginning to like the fact that Montana has no speed limits. You’re just supposed to use common sense when you drive, because the theory is that you’re supposed to be able to have enough brains in your head to decide for yourself when you’ve had enough and when you’ve had too much.2
I’m tired of having hope, that’s all.
There’s always something that is bothering me. There is always something that is getting on my nerves. There is always something that isn’t fair to me, that Is ripping me off, that is screwIng me over. And then there is always something that is making me feel like I haven’t given enough and that I have to give more, and when I have given enough they want to take more from me.
It’s like when you’re trying to take blood from a patient that has been dead for a couple of weeks and the blood has dried out for a good week there. And you’re thinkIng, if I just turn the pressure up a little bit on this little electronic gauge here maybe I can get a little more blood here and maybe we can conduct a few more experiments.
Well, maybe it’s like this.3
I worked for years at a nice corporation...well, a company, a nice company, with an owner that made a cool million every year wIth his glorious profits and he gave nothing to the staff.
In fact, he didn’t want to give titles to the staff, because then they would have more reason to leave and you know, they knew they did the work (they did the work of more than one), and they knew they wouldn’t get Christmas parties, and they had to fight for raises and they were always thought of as less than what they deserved.
And I know I sound like I’m ranting here but but give me a break, I deserve it after all this time. And I’m tired of feeling this way.4
so this is my theory; I don’t have all the details worked out so forgive me on this one but...if everyone can sustain their own can’t we choose to be our OWN country? I mean, forget this gun-banning thing, forget this BANNING thing altogether, and let’s just let people in on a first-come, first-serve basis, just the people that earned it, just the people that deserve it.
We need to just get an island here. and if we don’t know what island to buy, I suggest that we just use all the yard waste that has collected over the years in this country alone.
I mean, I know of a guy who decided to keep all the junk mail he got in a given year and I wonder if he’s still doing that if he has the space for all the junk mail that is usually sent to your house. Maybe he’s doing it to show how much junk we have to deal with, or to show what a waste it is. I don’t know what his reasons are but either way, you gotta think that it makes a good point.
We could use all of this trash that we get in our lives that we have to get rid of to create our own island, so to speak.
Well, maybe that would work.
There’s got to be a few engineers out there that feel the same way I do that are sick of some of the same things that I am and maybe they would be able to come up with some of the answers here
I’m sure they’d be paid WELL for their services. I’m sure of it.
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Chicago Poet Janet Kuypers
on all art and all writings on this site completed
before 6/6/04. All rights reserved. No material
may be reprinted without express permission.
 
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