Thursday, June 27, 2013

rapid succession fire.




"The smell of blood
and an air of prominent madmen
is all around us."
And puppet pundits 
with detailed nuances
choose to speak in such a way
as to never draw the needed attention
but only create the proper diversion.


The Landscape changes for the coming era.
From the pharaoh’s of Egypt
to the scholars of Greece,
the Soldiers of Rome
and the Corporate Interests
of Colonial Europe
our century is becoming history
before the population even realizes
what their history has become.
The sounds of nationalism,
Yankee Fascism,
disguised in our ability to watch
a colored television,
breathe in a manufactured breeze,
drive the long road that follows the sun,
and condemn an enemy that holds no army.

Government assisted corporations
spend our money
that politicians owe to them.
CEO’s are the General’s of the New Millennium,
they gather troops in boardrooms and strategize the most successful maneuver to narrow a limited power base.

In 1970 the top 100 CEOs 
earned approximately $45 
for every dollar earned by the average worker.

By 2009, it was $1,081 to one.

Coercing the political agenda
with threats of lost services
that supply their constituents/ consumers
with a sense of well-being and cheap goods
they rise
behind Mayors and Governors,
Congressmen and Senators.

Their agenda is now our philosophy
and Freedom is buying what we want
when we want it.

Our names get passed around in a hat,
lists written by criminals,
their names get burned on the pyre,
and even if we knew them
they are beyond our comprehension
or our attention
because the tents are going up,
homeless man with a cup,
the price of bread is rising,
and my neighbor’s house is up for sale,
and their neighbor’s house is up for sale,
their neighbor’s house would be for sale
but they ran like fugitives
before the bank showed up to collect.

Voices that got garbled in the silence 
of empty houses where families evaporated
in the failed attempts of turning
the pavement into gold.

We the poor and indebted
had wanted a home
like our parents and the
parents before them

we wanted the victory
and comforts of living
a life that only few
were able to afford.

We are tired of phone calls
with vicious voices
that speak to us
as if the enemy was us.

That we have besmirched
their name
because the interest rates
are taking up all of what we make on a job
that we are told
to be grateful for.

We, the last, were promised a heaven
and all we got was a 24-hour convenience
that now harasses us
because we can no longer pay
for the service.

Desperate voices
do desperate things.
Ingrained possibilities,
no longer devoted
to ideologies
of paradise exhausted,
creates an under class
that sees no possibilities.

The people have spoken
the wrong language.

I called the numbers that were given
to reach an operator with all the answers
only to be mitigated to mechanical voices
that pretend
to know
who you are
even when they ask you for your name
at every encounter.

I wanted to speak to someone,
I had questions
and wanted responses
that I can repeat back to make sure that my understanding of what was being signed was actually being read,
the voice had a recorded message.

The Random Interests
had decided
to cancel any option
that was available
to the public at large
who are largely in debt.

A little girl,
whose soldier dad is dead,
shouts it from the tower,
“The bees are gone,
your lives are bought,
roads are falling into the ocean
and the milk
and the honey
has turned sour!”