Bowing into submission for the glory of a previous age, negating the present and future in the hollow name of pride.*
Once there was a country, “oh, what *******”, surely you must be thinking, yet, there once was a country. I will tell you about this country, though it shall remain the Unnamed Stand Alone. Like a woman you just met, she just told you her name, but while she was busy spelling out Candy, you were already hiking.
This country. The country of which, Candy was part. How else could you trail her glorious hills and conquer the mountaintop? Aside from the mountain this country offered a lot of things, it was the sole presenter of Liberty and Justice. Everything: bigger, better, stronger, sexier, bigger, better, bigger, better. It was downright incredible, the sheer greatness of this god destined country was the sheer wealth and population, given the road to finance and expend both men and material to the never-ending war, in their backyard, a cemetery of countrymen, all dying for different causes; freedom, revenge, rights, justice, money, territory, sovereignty, fear or even hope. Who knows why anybody fights anybody, did the past generation say the same, were they also innocent bystanders, not unlike ourselves, perhaps not so innocent, perhaps, neither are we, perhaps.
Where as all things were, and all things are, we have one constant; War. Ah yes, how delightful. Bombs, planes, guns and tanks. Bloodbaths and murders on women and children, from both sides of all participating spectrums, but who cares right. From pillage to plunder we came, to … to… Well to what exactly have we come? A highly developed, super organized, black budgeted mega state who controls its own, dominates the rest and yet continues to **** and ******, pillage and plunder. All a necessary evil to take charge of the wondrous and constantly elusive freedom.
Ah yes, freedom, such a nice word, it should ring bells in utopia and the city of dreams. Perhaps freedom is the country where those reside, who knows, maybe the doctor, then again, he might put you on prescription pills, what do you do? Run? Stay? Get an abortion? Good luck Candy, Yes oh yes, freedom, justice, revenge, money, whatever the cause might be, I am sure glad that there are no black clouds since the war was won, at least till the next one pops up, like a casino ad on the internet, “Never mind the old war son, the new one has begun”; ‘Aah, the soothing words of my faux grandpa – the old man on the corner named Bill, an old hippie who watched Nixon push the national guard on those hippy ****. It was only natural, not to mention in the name of.. of.. What name was it in again? I forget, so do you I guess?
Now, where were we? The Mojave dessert, this sure is some funky stuff, I just wish we had more of that snow, now we’re all wearing… Wait, wrong story there.
Aha, back on track, sometimes this machine bents me all out of shape, it’s as if I don’t recognize my own voice when I listen to the things I say, I could blame the T.V. but its my friend, I just wished it sometimes would tell me about the dumb **** I am about to ‘say, see or do’, but it doesn’t, like a real friend. Instead of going running, we hang out. Instead of eating at the table, I eat with TV, come to think of it, I see TV, Sleep TV, Think TV, Buy TV, Consume TV, heck I even Live TV, “Man TV, our relationship has really grown to become this weird ****** up thing, and I never noticed”, how about that.
So, while the wars go on, and the presidents are replaced with never, more appealing actors than their predecessors, me and the all unnamed home-grown sit and await the coming boom, the presentation of yet another, more devastating weapon than the one before. For fun I go see Candy, or TV. We wait till the fight is over, to celebrate whatever we are fighting for and our victory, blissfully ignorant of the fact that we just robbed someone else of exactly that. Bent out of shape,
With no real family, other than the strange old man, who seems to understand down on the corner.
I guess its because he’s the only one who’s been here long enough who actively remembers to forget and not forget to remember like the rest. It is for these reasons, but not those alone, that I beg of the land I have once known, to get to your senses, reclaim the power, don’t believe the man in the suit for he is not one of ours, he is not; A man of the faceless crowd