Monday, August 02, 2010

The Theatre of Hate

Somewhere behind the surface of the façade they could hear our voices whisper
“I don’t believe you”
At times like these a swift and solid response is required.

As the gunman places the muzzle to his chin, surrounded by blood hungry hounds who know that today they may legitimately wreak vengeance for one of their own whose bloody face the media exposed to enflame. The gunman finds himself overexposed at the end of the world.

As the demonstrators break the line of belligerent and action-hungry Kevlar; knowing it is their blood that is the commodity in a transaction of hate, the weight of the world leaves them circling Escher’s endless staircase.
Ever rising to remain, the ones who never broke the surface.


Yodood said...

Governments take orders too! From whom?

Pisces Iscariot said...

From god?

Harlequin said...

I love the starkness ( and deadly accuracy!) of this reflection and the image complements the mood; so well done.