The transformation is almost complete. It’s way too late to wait. Taking a giant leap backward to the southern Antebellum era. The hate shall rise again. The ignorant will rule the day. Democracy doesn’t die in darkness. It’s a slow transition. To rot in broad daylight. An imperfect union breakdown of antisocial interactions. In the name of patriotism, it slowly dies, becoming the worst imaginable life for imperfect all-American values and unwholesome nightmares. A lie told to gullible fools like us.
Freedom, the name given for nothing left to lose. In nature, there’s no need for freedom. It is a natural state that occurs in its own time without clocks or calendar days. It simply exists. Moving about freely in strange ways, in a manner of peaceful harmony and orderly fashion. It doesn’t need time to move around in the world. It’s the true nature of wild beasts thrashing around in an unfeeling moment. The skin of constant change. Black, brown, red and yellow flesh. Superior superficial features have marked the white bloodline. Yet, it still remains the same. Not all monsters are hideous. Handsome devils. Some may crack a smile while shaking hands and picking pockets. The white man marks his territory.
All the spooky Halloween stuff at a short distance, wobbling over the infinite dance of energy in motion. Not around this joint. Quiet as the tomb. It's always scary around here. The frequencies modulate. Triggering tiny hard-wired brainwaves in distant bands of light and sound. Where particles travel through apparently solid matter into the universe that is us. The perfect order in a vacuum of solid air. The meat of nothingness on a skeleton of dust. There’s no color in the void. We float through the ages like ghosts in a cloud ballet dancing, poor partners promenade in cosmic rays of light and dark. The long-dead stars shine down from the distant past. The light looks real, but it’s not really there. It’s what once was, no longer there. The starlight still shines there. That’s how democracy works. Lost in a cosmological order of numbers and logic. Free entertainment for those who can see it. The eclipse of the sun and moon. There are plenty of dangers in this dance. Even the lowly fly serves a shifty purpose. Albeit for a few days of life in a shit daydream of being a fly that doesn’t know it’s a fly.
This way of life no longer matters. It never worked from the get-go. Too many variables and unknowns. Useless information that passes for facts. It’s that little piece of pork fat that makes all the difference. The currency of dolts and dullards counting pennies. Dots, dashes, zeros, and ones. The current regime auto-labels and rubber stamps disapproval of anyone who doesn’t agree with them. Last month, anyone who disagreed with the regime was labeled extreme left-wing lunatics. This morning I woke up and suddenly I’m a communist. A commie, pinko, faggot, junkie. The anti-fascists of fascism. The sick jokes they tell us are on repeat, spinning the same old timer's story in alternate versions.
It’s nothing new. At least we know who and what they are. What they represent and how they stand for it, sitting down with the false narrative equivalent to those fakers who lie about everything doing nothing under the guise of doing what’s best for all. The reality’s the opposite. They only care about enriching themselves by taking from the masses who can least afford it. The control mechanism of shady shapeshifters and puppet masters. All connected to a corrupt system of corporate governance and capitalist control in the strip mall of the fledgling American dream. Buy now. Stacking them deep and selling them cheap. Bad deals all day long. Living the good life on someone else’s dime. Life is cheap in the land of the free.
A hostile takeover of the mind. The merger of Monopoly money and cryptocurrency. Obsolete pennies are rounding up to the nearest dollar. The stock exchange of broken promises and ill-gotten gains. Paying through the nose to keep food in the mouth. The brokerage of extinct industries and abandoned factories, the death sentence for bankrupt souls on the dole’s dung heap. The cruel overlords have escaped the crumbling kingdom. Hiding in their bunkers. They rule by any means necessary to keep themselves and their sycophants out of jail. The psychosis of bad situations gone worse. The people who follow them over the cliff are just going through the motions. Knee-jerk gyrations of a country out of control. Business is brisk at the boneyard. We never close the open market of bankrupt values and even lower ideals. Just like back in the good old days.