Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the guns of madness,
at His elquent request,
sat lounging in a clitoral sun
as the firework deity
with all the trimmings, trappings and testosterone flapping,
lingered a little in the lobby
and jettisoned the holliest among them
(cast out cast out, fucking pointless
catalyst for purification -
new roman empire - raus raus).

deeply iconic are the fallic illusive
the rotting gossip on Kapitol Hill

a panting jungle cat
in the heat of a mad moonlight
sat up all night
wet with fright
at the cataclysmic delight of thundering horses over desert dunes.
the iron ruins of subtle wasteland
all lying, dying,
ripped from arse hole
to other man's arse hole,
pissed on, shat on, castrated, liberated;

flag flying, gun toting, rip roaring, heavy handed,
thirst quenching, lip smacking iron branded liberation.

there was an arty farty film in the sixties called The Balconey, the best part maybe the only good part was Peter Falk's speach about "our sacred bullshit"

Our Dear Leaders speach on inaugeration day reminded me of that speach a lot, Freedom is not free. and it seems that the cost of freedom is slavery

September 11 1939

...
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
...

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
...
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.