they whisper in reverent tones on the television, hushed, in awe, struck dumb by the images of fifty-nine tomahawk cruise missiles a flaccid, wanna-be-strongman just launched at Syria, a country whose refugees and babies we'd rather see washed-up on the sands of foreign lands than safely at peace in our homeland.
Brian Williams calls the spectacle, "beautiful." sociopathic pundits in ecstasy, spewing meek excuses like babbling baboons, buffoons lusting for an **** of nihilistic violence. they invoke their dead gods, beseech the "Almighty" to bless their bloodstained hands, and say this is how a demagogue acts presidential.
beat the war drums in quick succession. about face in a new direction. left, left, left, right, left. it doesn't matter who sits in the Oval Office, war makes America great again, boosting administrative approval ratings and corporate coffers, revenue soaring like sky-rocketing jet-fuel.
we cannot pummel the world into submission with munitions, but that won't stop us from trying. planting early graves like seeds in the ground, bearing fruit that spoils and keeps this whole sick joke spinning perpetually around. we **** people who **** people because killing people is wrong. what i'd give to wake to a world not torn apart by war.