Internecine Monster Mash

“It’s dangerous to be right, when those in power are wrong”. Voltaire.

I am not left wing, I am hard-line reality, but should you feel that silly niggling need at the back of your mind after reading this, to place me under the hubris of a left wing banner, know that I won’t mind in the slightest. Content marks the man lest we forget not his handle.

The bed is made around the toss, all I can do is turn in it. Facts are facts. Do the math yourself. Join the dots. The shit is already splattered on the fan, dry. The stains are on my sheets. Dots joined to dots joined to dots, joined to dots, every picture clearly does tell a million, million, thousand stories.

The truth as they say in plain old black and shiny white, is really just a treasure throve of stepping-stones that each and every one of us, you included, yes that’s right, you my friend, can walk upon in our heads. So hocus-pocus, here we go, here we go, here we go again, as the crowd say, where will the bottle take us this time I wonder, on the spin?

Does it matter, I mean does it really matter to you or to anyone else out there on leaky bucket Planet Earth, that the sanctions placed on the Iraqi’ in our garden, since the early 90’s by our fascist elite ‘Masters’ have now killed over a million innocent people? Dose it matter to you or to anyone else enough I wonder that we do something about it?

Posterity holds the ball always, remember, meaning we too can hold court. Babies starving to death right this second in their mother’s arms, right this very second at the time of reading, because somebody somewhere had the power to stop their apple flow. Mothers starving to death, right this very second in their husband’s arms, right this second at the time of writing, because somebody somewhere had the power to stop their water flow. Laissez Fair economicide in a nut shell. Do the math yourself. Join the dots.

Not all of us suck on tabloid tit you know. Some of do actually read the writing on the wall. Read all about it! Some of us do actually, praise be to ‘God’ almighty, read the philosophers. We all can, few do, what can I do? Thoreau lost to Ozzy snot and on and on and on, you get the picture. Where was I?

How can we ponder this, what we are seeing with our own minds, as anything less than genocide? The woods for the trees tell me all we need to know. There are no grey areas. Black and plain old, shiny white staring right back at us. Reality itself in all its splendour is in the eye of the beholder so why not genocide, may I not ask, in all its ugliness?

I repeat, how can we ponder this, what we are seeing with our own minds, as anything less than genocide? In the face of everything we hold to be true and beautiful, how can we ignore something of such magnitude, and more importantly, why haven’t the Bush/Blair/Clinton/Thatcher monsters responsible been caged up yet? Are we not the people? Are we not the law, makers?

Like the great philosopher Kant said ‘We are all our own legislator’s.’ I mean the constitution itself is written around the universal bell of humanity that rings eternal in our heads. Is it not? As soon as our sub-conscious reality is made manifest, we will be free men, and dare I say, off the longest mile at last. What is revolution after all if not evolutions correct motion realised subjectively?

Yesterday is an easy page to read if one can read the page they’re on today. Tomorrow after all, today becomes yesterday thus we are all historians. For example we can all look back tomorrow again on today’s pain and still feel the whole spill at the crux. It is not enough to say, that the milk may have spilt but what does it really matter once we’re still left holding the jug, long after the madness has subsided in the tea-cup?

Yesterday just like the high-rise lives we live today, cannot be simply buried under some universal carpet and wash away. Neither can the carpet bombs. To forget yesterday is to not know your place today as a subject of the way things really are. The way things really are. Monkey or philosopher I say, pick your spanner and throw it into one pool or the other. The hour is almost upon us.

At the end of the day who among the clones cares too much if one can’t spell Machiavillian properly? What matters at the end of the day is that we know the flop, not the colours on the backs of the cards. Names, times and dates tell us nothing about the box we’ve all been systematically divided and conquered in. The truth if one cares enough to look into history’s mirror, lays in our essence.

If you understand high-rise life as unfair, you understand economics. If you can understand Black history as exploitation, you understand economics. If you understand revolution as a necessity, you understand the rules. Don’t let the fat cats from the upper echelons fool you anymore, even the accountants they’re turning out these days are sub-standard in the face of what will come to pass after P Daddy. None of their accounts anywhere, in any land, add up basically. How else do you want it? Do the math yourself.

I say this because if we are to truly understand the world we live in today one has to be able to discern their place among the ‘stars’. Are you the arse, or are you the arse the arse-lickers, lick? It’s a simple question. It’s that simple. Are you at the high-rise concrete end of the magic kingdom, or do you reside on palace diamond-street just around the corner?

I mean where tomorrow will you place yourself in the big picture, considering today’s history is transpiring right this very second before your eyes? Will you look back tomorrow I wonder and tell your grandchildren that you loved them enough to clean up their air? Will you look back down along the annals of antiquity with honour in your heart, knowing that you were man enough to change things, or will the mirror crack every time you hear the word apathy?

Procrastination is the rope that hangs most of us. Should of, could have, would have, if only I had a second chance, etc. That’s the way the music we must face plays. The cross you’re carrying is nothing but a phantom in your head, an illusion created with one goal in mind, domination by the few over the many, by any means necessary. Black and white still fighting over the crumbs at picnic table, its pathetic. Wake up and smell the fucking roses.

I’ve read a thousand books. I’ve read Utopia in the text a million, million, thousand times and yet here we are again today, man and woman the measure of all things, still firing guns and bombs off in all directions, without any hint whatsoever at who the enemy really is. That’s the saddest truth and greatest irony I suppose, of all.

The plain truth of the matter is this, as you all very well know if you search your hearts, is that we are now and always have been our own worst enemy. Brothers killing brothers, sisters exploiting sisters, war, rape, war, rape, war, rape, the list is endless. Tiny little Nelsons firing bombs into Mammy Natures belly. One can only sit in awe at our folly and ask the obvious question that springs eternal, why?

Believe it or not the root of the problem is one of a psychological nature. It’s another story, and one I won’t go into it here, suffice as to say though that our psychological progress to date has been hindered I’m not afraid to state, by men of small mind. High priests and high kings who have stirred the pot for their own lot into internecine monster mash. Personally I like to think of them as small box visionaries.

Let’s face it, for centuries now, we the majority of the worlds inhabitants, have been on the receiving end of a ‘one law for the rich, tough shit to the poor’ policy. And until this is recognised for its true weight, we are doomed from this day forward to suffer on as ’god’s’ little children, until the last day of reckoning.

So what’s my point you may well ask? My point is this. We are history. We are the only hope that we have. We are the people. We are the poetry. We are family. We are everyone in together equally, or we are nothing more than less than forever. Revolution now, revolution now, revolution now! What say ye, you, him, her, them, us, the people?

Peace. Yap.