(Land of the Pharaoh: the
end of the American Dynasty)
When a war
goes on as long as America’s wars do, in particular,
America with Afghanistan and Iraqi (we
can add, Vietnam too)—
It’s
a crime; it really is…!
The
greed, and lies for peace mean nothing—it’s all cheap talk: it is
amusing, we become great authors of tragedies…
We
hide the soldier’s bibles, bleach the blood out of their cloths, while
industry signs contracts for a billion
more bullets, vehicles, Missiles, and much, much more, to wet the earth with,
to scorch it
raw…!
Quietly,
Obama, makes it all look so clean, he even softens the battle
cry into romance, while fire flickers
deep inside his serpentine Eyes: inside his dark-heart, and he goes on with the
busy pleasures of
life—dancing to the tune of Europe, and
the devil’s shadow…
Making
his own personal contracts without people or congress…; the
wild-cat, coon and wood-rat, the false
prophet…doom!
There
is nothing holy anymore in America, and the angels are getting
ready to leave, leave American, and then
planet earth,
To
watch the fireworks, far-off by a nebula, I think they’ve had enough
I don’t blame them.
While
our people continue to play tricks, blast the enemy, as we sink
deeper into the pit; it doesn’t really
matter what I say, and he Knows it—he has the world by the tail, there will be
no atonement, not
for him or his kind; while annihilation
comes leaping close behind,
The
dogs of Russia, will no longer lick the dish clean: blood cries for
blood, crime for reprisal, and once the
bombs start, they will echo
Forever.
You
see, nature has stopped dreaming, as man continues his
scheming, in the ice cold winter it will
start, Yellow Dawn—and Nature unmistakable knows, the strong and wealthiest of
nations will
be crippled soon—then what? Oedipus!...
They
will all say to one another, “It is better to be silent, and not to
strike at all—but if we do, if we have to, then it is better
that we
strike Deadly and over and over again…”
We
are entering the era of disturbance: it will not fade, and we are
beyond the point of return.
This
is the time of muddy foolishness, false impressions, demagogues,
cheating shepherds: to death we march:
shuffling along the Corridors as if looking for peace, how silly can we be,
when war brings
to the conquerors (industry), more than
victory, but power and Golden eagles—we are the harlot, a great promiser—
Soon,
we will empty the world of the old, grandchildren, children,
wives, and animals…all that will be
left, will be half soldiers!
Find
your sanctuary…
#3361 (6-11 & 27-2012
