"Anyone fancy a spot of quail hunting?"
With a heart full of headless horsemen and a head full of hate
He heads down the corridor to where the victims await
Trained as they are in columns of four and rows of eight
Their heads full of hollow and meaningless debate
You are what you eat what the system dictates
Cybernetic sons and daughters of the United States
He ratchets dumdum revenge cinematic reload
There’s no turning back from this far down the road
The coin’s flipped at random; the fat cop’s approaching
M16 in hand the future’s encroaching
Blood-stained newsprint graphic detailed inhumanity
Weeping for cameras in televisual profanity
Call me callous call me cold I don’t buy your reality
When the tears that you cry don’t see the brutality
Inflicted in the name of Halliburton and Colt
And casting blame on the victims of your callous assault
For the dead that you mourn in numbers so small
Shot with the same guns that caused buildings to fall
Guns that spill blood in the name of democracy
Cold dead hands that define your hypocrisy
So don’t ask me to mourn don’t expect me to cry
When the blood that you spill casts a pall on the sky
When you expect us to buy your shallow world view
When the morality you spew gets stuck on my shoe
Don’t count me as ally or sympathetic ear
When the crusade that you wage continues another year
And the knights grow ever colder, ever closer to callous
And the truth you profess reeks of greed and of malice
With a heart full of headless horsemen and a head full of hate
He heads down the corridor to where the victims await
Trained as they are in columns of four and rows of eight
Their heads full of hollow and meaningless debate
You are what you eat what the system dictates
Cybernetic sons and daughters of the United States
He ratchets dumdum revenge cinematic reload
There’s no turning back from this far down the road
The coin’s flipped at random; the fat cop’s approaching
M16 in hand the future’s encroaching
Blood-stained newsprint graphic detailed inhumanity
Weeping for cameras in televisual profanity
Call me callous call me cold I don’t buy your reality
When the tears that you cry don’t see the brutality
Inflicted in the name of Halliburton and Colt
And casting blame on the victims of your callous assault
For the dead that you mourn in numbers so small
Shot with the same guns that caused buildings to fall
Guns that spill blood in the name of democracy
Cold dead hands that define your hypocrisy
So don’t ask me to mourn don’t expect me to cry
When the blood that you spill casts a pall on the sky
When you expect us to buy your shallow world view
When the morality you spew gets stuck on my shoe
Don’t count me as ally or sympathetic ear
When the crusade that you wage continues another year
And the knights grow ever colder, ever closer to callous
And the truth you profess reeks of greed and of malice
10 comments:
Good post, Pisces Iscariot. Bravo.
We've taken similar slices of this neocon farce. Another year of Bush in Iraq equals 25,000 more killings, give or take a few mistakes.
As I listen to Eno & Byrne, which makes me think of Pisces, I of course drifted over, procrastinating, to see what you have thrown onto the blog....
Must I say again: the political machine and the individual's politics and suffering are two separate entities? We are no longer a land in which 1 vote, 1 person can make a difference (as seen in the last election). Instead, big business, big money rule and we are now a country divided into electoral 'colleges.'
Suffering is suffering ... no matter the reason, and therefore, each victim deserves compassion...despite his/her government's political agendas and policies...
good to see the acerbic side of Pisces roar again.
Good stuff.
N
Yes, you are correct rdg: each victim deserves compassion.
This includes each victim in Iraq; Sudan; Congo; Lebanon…
The problem lies not with our compassion but with where we are directed to give compassion.
As alluded to by Gregrandgar above, in events like the Virginia Tech murders we are given a parade of public mourning (in my view, willingly staged by those media savvy authorities involved) and are encouraged to ask ourselves ‘Why?’. Yet the western media, in the daily events in The Middle East and Africa, asks us rather to gaze on in horror at the actions of our Muslim ‘enemies’ and not to question our own involvement in these atrocities.
It’s a question of weight, propaganda and political control of (and by) the media, and like Brighton Rock, it goes all the way through our western society.
I don’t mean to suggest that we should not feel compassion, merely that we should be careful of who is directing us – our compassion should be un-weighted by that which our financial-politico-media establishments deem worthy.
OFF Topic:
It seems that I am unable to read or travel via hyperlink from my page to Red Dirt Girl's Blog.
I am sorry to pring it up here but;
I speak Russian.
but Red speaks Portuguese.
Pisces speaks both.
Good day
N
rdg seems to have closed us out (I presume inadvertantly)
Let Me Serve You, Justice
When gavels and scales go bump in the night and hackers hack through the dirt of your words, searching for clues to be woven into half truths and lies, then freedom of speech is truly a myth....and one more voice is silenced.
The mighty wheels of a divorced justice revolve slowly indeed, grinding the dirt into a fine red powder...words now are weapons to stab, wound and kill...poetry is no longer an option. And so all vanishes into thin, silent air......only its faint static is heard. Who is left to remember the red with the blues? Who is left unharmed?
with affection to you and mr. barrows,
adieu
Goodbye rdg (?)
Perfection!
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