A Poem about Tabacco and Alcohol Taxes.
Taxes grind me to the ground,
no relief have I found,
tobacco keeps me in poverty,
I cry for sweet liberty.
They say it's for our health,
they just increase their wealth,
this price, I've had enough,
I don't want to give it up.
It's like coping a fine,
not drinking wine,
drinking isn't much fun anymore,
I guess they just tax the poor.
When I first started smoking tobacco a pack of 20's cost 20 cents, how things have changed. But this is to be expected, government has butchered the lives of the poor since Satan invented it. I have given up smoking several times, often for years, but I have always gone back to it, I always missed my smokes. Once you've had a smoke it's in the back of your mind forever. Recently the price of rolling tobacco increased by 17.5% in one hit. The government raises the taxes on tobacco by 6% every six months usually. They claim that they want us to give it up or pay for the health costs caused by tobacco-related diseases since when has government needed an excuse to tax the poor. Upping the price is just going to force people to smoke sub-standard more dangerous tobacco obtainable on the black market. This attempt- as they claim - to force us to give it up will be as successful as the war on drugs, that is not at all. All these bleeding hearts that have forced the Nanny state on us are just sadists, they aren' happy people and they want to share this with the World.
About the Author
I was born in Melbourne Australia on March 4th, 1957. My mother worked in a pie van at Victoria market. My father drank. My brother, sister and I used to take time off school, go to the museum, botanical gardens or sneak into the zoo. When I was 9 we moved to a country town not far from the city. I enjoyed roaming around the paddocks. I didn't do well at school, my lack of concentration made studying difficult, I dropped out to pursue a career in retail. I managed an aquarium successfully. In 1985 I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, later with paranoid schizophrenia, with this came heavy cannabis use. I was in and out of hospitals for a long time. New medications have made me stable, I haven't been hospitalized since 2000. Psychosis radicalized my thinking, I realized I could make something out of the darkness. That was the beginning of my paranormal journey.
Down and Out in London and Paris by George Orwell
This unusual fictional account - in good part autobiographical - narrates without self-pity and often with humor the adventures of a penniless British writer among the down-and-out of two great cities. The Parisian episode is fascinating for its expose of the kitchens of posh French restaurants, where the narrator works at the bottom of the culinary echelon as dishwasher, or plongeur. In London, while waiting for a job, he experiences the world of tramps, street people, and free lodging houses. In the tales of both cities we learn some sobering Orwellian truths about poverty and society.
Growing up in poverty I wasn't shoked by the poverty described in this book. As with all of Orwells' books, it was a good read.It gave me an insight into the man and showed me a different side of him,Things have change since Orwells' youth,at least in the west, we are much better off. It reminds me how lucky I am to live in Australia in the present era.
© 2018 JAMES