Collective Sorrow

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I write to make a music of the sort that won't pretend what the errors of our past produce... today. All the terror raining bombs, insulted Arabs—wounded Jews... all the hate that's running rampant while faux *Christians* hold their sway.
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Still, the saucers slither in the blackness if in sight, and we cower in indifference to pretend that wrong is right. To wit? The least of us are sacrificed to pad rich feathered halls with pumped up teats of trophy wives oblivious to all...
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We tear our eyes from lights that fly. We laugh and smirk and don't ask why. We're mired in mistakes so plain, mistakes so senseless, cruel—insane.
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Make some man a public figure, think him... somehow... better, bigger! Place him on your pedestal—too soon held up for ridicule. Listen to his radio. Hit his site. He's getting bold (?)—then cast him out you fickle bitch! You whining... puling... fawning snitch!
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It all comes down to us at last. It's what we catch in nets we cast. But them! So safe (and in position), spewing Right-Wing impositions. Wrapped in their convenience—proud! ...And at the suffering? Laugh out loud!
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The truth is ravaged—used, abused! Tormented! Savaged! Depressed! Confused!
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From where would come your laughter, then? You're not a clueless JERK, my friend... Truth comes clean if it's but faced, though most will not to earn disgrace.
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Conspiracy's alive and stark! Insidious and plainly dark, it thrives too well in quick denial—is nurtured in conniving guile. It preens itself in our distraction and grows too bold in our inaction!
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...I AGREE the water's filthy, but save the baby—could we? Will we?
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We're mushrooms to the non-elected. We're in the dark, fed crap—detective! We don't have a wit or clue... clear evidence of said abuse. Faith and trust is just pretended, crass betrayal, instead, extended!
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Nothing's as it must appear if first drawn through ones lens of fear...
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You say that's false, but then stop looking... blinded to their looting—rooking! It's like we *know* and just don't care, contributing to angst still there! ...And in your bubble thought secure... you rationalize these lies—absurd!
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Hidden in this churning madness, caught up in elitist gladness are the truths that we would have if we would cop to what we've said. Hallowed *treaties* now deplored, around five hundred, *slightly* more—ripped apart by "Uncle Sam" to fill the vaults of shadow men? Fixing prices, built-in failure, planning for a short-term's nadir, building walls to hide behind for "insulation's" sake, one finds!
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Knowledge IS the power, friend, explaining schools that just *pretend*. Autonomy is what we're missing, then *teams* have power beyond dismissing, but THAT is what "the man" must fear (above all else) it so appears.
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Flying in the skies like crickets, *somewhere*, it has been admitted, are reflections of ourselves who look and wonder for themselves! But they're not here 'cause we're not there (?), our science says... but oh—contraire!
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Much better that we treat them like... ...they're watching us, just out of sight. The evidence: historical, photos, papers, anecdotal—these just tips of massive 'bergs which float serenely I have heard...
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We're not LOOKING! We don't admit it. We're lost to our indifference with it! Our focus is on learned sneering, proudly bloated profiteering. We've no thought beyond tomorrow, and THAT is our collective sorrow.



alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net