Thursday, May 8, 2014

5339. FOUR STARS FOUND DEAD

FOUR STARS FOUND DEAD
(Hotel California)
Well, anyway, that's what I thought it said.
'My Miserable Life' was another headline that
confused me. About a girl who shouldn't have
gone there  -  stains on her dress and all the
rest. Aren't we tired of all this pomp yet?
-
And circumstance? Another damned season
of purple politics starts : to achieve nothing
but more; to amount to little but bore. I tell
you, Fred, we need a Revolution, and a real
one too. Blood in the streets, the fire klaxons
clanging. Bring out the long-blades, find me a
Chairman Mao, round up the usual suspects
but do it now.
-
I have no patience any longer for the hilarious
hinderings of the Hillaryettes, nor the stupid
twerkings of the Obama nets or the Bush kin,
or the Paulists and the Christies. Like it was
all some old fucking religion of the sadder
dimensions. Get it out. Make it wise. 'We are
all just prisoners here, of our own devise.'

No comments: