Kiss the depilatated butt of your System; pampered and perfumed with velvet toilet paper cut from huge swathes of third world forests with scents so sweet as to be scraped from the scrotum of humanity with the sterile scalpels of science and technology.
Kiss your System square on its puckered anus, so scarred by the stress of its rosy success in ridding the world of all morality save the morality of firepower and allowing the blind justification to drive the vehicles of our demise.
From the treetops I look down with brother moon at my shoulder and we see our mother Earth so ravaged and debauched, exposed to the cosmic elements. Kiss her goodbye at midnight tomorrow.
Kiss her goodbye in the sound knowledge that you too are responsible for what is happening around you. You animal lovers and charity givers; you accountants and lawyers who bend the rules so far; you philosophical drinkers; you salesmen in dry dreams of empty material gain; you who wouldn’t hurt a fly; you money spinners, pension providers and insurance conmen; you art critics; oil guzzlers and book reviewers, humourists and whores; you with your religion of forgiveness and tolerance, you are responsible for the actions of the empty shells that you elected to power. Do not attempt to claim the moral high ground against the enemies that you are complicit in creating in order to feed the System whose butt you must now kiss.
The Pavilion of the Red Clown by Robert Williams
1 comment:
o to climb a tree again to be able to run free with not a care to eat what i would from the ground with no care to how it was found .To know that earth would allways be here for me and all my friends but for the man who cut down my tree and killed my friends i ran and ran now its just me i can find no food on the ground thats free.When will thay come for me to test and prod on so i can become a dead monkey too
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