LIVING IN A LALA LAND
Thinking about things just makes
my head swell. The hurt is enormous
and the way out is close, but the
passing gun that's been handed to
me will not fire. Yet. My trigger
hand to is paralyzed most.
-
I see that we've entered this fine
Amerikan hole now : where the
narrative is given over to tyrants
and the sweeping smoke of every
altercation you can think of is
rising:
-
Of course, no one speaks the truth.
Of course no one challenges the
sulky that is running past the glass.
Are any of those, perchance, Roman
Centurians again? We see they may
have changed their stripes but still
are deciduous men who drop their
leaves to alter the camouflages of
their needed situations.
-
These are totalitarian enactments
now, but without the enactments.
That narrative I mentioned, once
installed, precludes enacting, and
the consensus is spread that all is
well in spite of. Hell, that's just
another running lie.
-
They speak mostly of themselves.
There's a club within the cabal, a
nation within a nation : guns and
large trucks and ammunition and
force. Taking over homes and minds,
breaking into safes and lodgings,
militarizing the mot simple minds.
-
It's done so well too, that the
applause in itself is a deafening
silence, as no one has the guts to
to bell the cat. We have entered
totalitarianism, and just like that.
-
In LaLa Land we will live, amidst
what our idiocies have begat.
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