• Robert Moses

A Few Words on Financial Literacy

First off, I reserve the right to blaspheme, to excise unpopular expression, to juggle and justify rejected utterances, , to uproot, topple, transplant, this or that un-abbling notion into the minds of right thinking people.

To use whatever poorly occupied space found, score that space

And have considered ( by the Client) the world may work in other ways.

For instance What if I started with

A title: The Cock Accountant

Started with remarks about black men holding their Dicks to protect themselves against theft, ( this comes from an old Pryor joke).

That could work.

Think of That

An all day, everyday, after night shift, day-job as a premise for a work could work.


A black man

with the steady job (other than care for self).


Ok, now

Let’s make him an accountant.

Lots of offense there.

( you know,


that joke talks out its’ ass,

describing a kind of a check in, a taking stock of, engagement with a kind of in-kind, creative accounting)

( hence the title you see).

You see

For all the


black men are said to be concerned with their possessions

: attitude, appearance, dicks attitude.

There must be multiples.

(Yes, keep this notion going. It’s full of cultural, social and historical offense ( strike that/)


Think of it,

Life without the accountant.

The horror!

unaccounted for dicks everywhere.

Lost dicks,

Loose dicks,

stolen dicks,

repossessed dicks,

Worst of all the unwanted,…

there are so many

The horror


The possibilities !

(Hold on Better check in:

ah Cool)

Now every


you see a black man reach for it

( and when I say dick/it I mean: his self respect, determination, autonomous what so ever)


well trained accountant.

Think, that whole dick game is just the accounting practice of a big bad, eunuch fearing, mathematical magician.

Now all this comes with slight of hand. It’s up to you to figure out which to watch .


this feels like something

- if not new-

Something less than

The beating of a slightly under-used formula on already worn instrument pulled to the point of tearing.

But Jumping back

What if blasphemies like this were welcome additions

Rather than

exhausted over-played organs that lack longed for precision, lack the ability to stand in the histories they are meant to embody, ( remember I mean self respect, self determination, cultural, social and historical offense, attitude, dicks, appearance, attitude, attitude, autonomous what so ever)? What if, for the umphteenth time those over used, over stuffed effigies ( those blasphemies) narcolepticly gesture to freedom from past expressive compression, what if they only nodded to each challenge’s circumstance without getting to why, the more of the other/else’s need to be addressed, what if they offered instead un-ablings bereft of meaning - a stop. What if they burned or repealed, through reinforcement, refutation, inditement, or descent, useless truths?

A blasphemies construction disproves a non existence’s worth.

What if we, who, for clarity's sake, use commonly understood, but no longer - honestly - evocative ground to provide vantage - stopped.


Suppose the ideologies flown from posts staked into grounds reactively but unconsciously programmed with what was never really or is no longer there, like all those dicks ( the imagined, supposed ones at least) dropped. What happens when expression is no longer bound by a specificity that relates only to the non-existent. And what if the creative expression of that non existent specificity is denied those standing on that fantasy ground. Is freedom from the count found there. What if the flexing of metaphoric muscle were a waste of cliche, honest effort and creative privilege.

What’s the sum of that…

Are three shakes is a yank?÷ a lack of authenticity.

Creatively i mean

What if?

What if risk were as dysfunctional as certainty’s intransigence.

And we saw death and sought meanings’ growth only in deserts of consequence,

(mirages that offer only varieties of thirst)

I need another way

to beat a dead horse

if nothing comes of all that counts

Counted on

How, without going over old ground, without using effigies that lack the reflection of a generative twin

do we represent.

We topple ingenuously propped intangible balances, work to defeat perpetually imploding states of collapsed relevance, in support of a true consequence as close to intention, as truth.

if perspective is clarification,

“I only hold your hand at night and only then to get the angle right”. Amy Winehouse

only i move my hand

if perspective were clarification

Do I

Turn my back

Become you

look for a language of dominance that binds moments, insists on a universally representative common ground, insists on an individual communal congress developed past expression, that breaks one into convention, into functional component parts and sprinkles them along the garden path, life like sordid sorted gen - egineered insinuated seed.

And find oneself, for the sake of easy communication forced to utter mature conformed aborted colloquialisms about self respect, determination, cultural, social and historical offense, attitude, dicks, appearance, attitude, attitude, autonomous what so ever, so others will register what’s been rendered and intended and experienced and shared in response to what never was or is no longer there, and even those references rendered as insignificant cartographic bullets on undrawn maps ?