WHEN WILL THE DROUGHT END TEZCATLIPOCA?

This government is a beast of smoke and mirrors perched upon a blood dripping altar that sits on top of a ziggurat that was built from bones of meta-media-psycho- physical phantasmagoria integrity. The top soil has blown away to an alien god’s domain. There upon the pinnacle of our temple stands our God Emperor making sacrifices to an alien God from an alien land. Look at the jaguar claw dagger in his hand that once symbolized the power over light and darkness. A knife blade balanced between life and death where the God Emperor consecrated the sacrifice with one thrust into the body of a sanctified virgin upon the day proceeding the night of the thirteenth full moon at the cycles end. These days the sacrifice occurs after every full moon and the sacrifice is always political scapegoat; a virgin upon the steps of political manipulation.
This God Emperor and his government have embraced the sorcery of propaganda twisted with dogma concealed behind the illusion of control. The jaguar claw dagger held within the hands of his priests and advisers has been plunged into the flesh of this nation in an exhibition of short term gain that lead to universal entropy. The victims of this God Emperor’s regime have woken to find their internal organs have been removed while priests of economics have proclaimed that this is the will of the Gods and the rains shall come to pass.
Where is the holiest of hollies, our favourite God, Democracy? It was lost within a jungle where deadly sound bites and superstitious photo ops devoured and butchered Democracy. Democracy was burnt down to its bones then sold and finally leased back. New temples rose up upon the bones of Democracy with the God Emperor’s priests proclaiming the rebirth of Democracy. The people of the empire were not allowed to participate for the priests had read the signs inside these new temples where they birthed diseased entrails that the priests entwined into the fabric of the land, which thus spread a growing blindness within the hearts of the people. The people's minds were twisted into believing the priest's revelations that this land is a paradise. Every non-victim living in the empire received three parrot feathers that were promised by the God Emperor to keep away fear and starvation.
The people wept to the God Emperor and his Government to end drought. The God Emperor sent forth his priests of words who cast spells upon the people that made them believe that water levels were higher than ever before, although, one could see the skulls at the bottom wells. All the while the people's blood was dripping and running to the Gods that did not answer. All the while the blood of the priests and the royal elite's were exempt from sacrifice.
The skies were clear like a grave newly dug where the earth could only crumble and crack. It's been so long since rain fell down upon the land. In this same time the rain of blood has become heavier and heavier. The drought has not ended, but the God Emperor proclaimed that waters were flowing everywhere.
One only needed to look at the colour of what flowed through the veins of this land to understand the truth. A truth so red it screams the name; the beast of smoke and mirrors.

POLITE STUPIDITY

Someone remarked to me about the weather, “It’s a fine day for the weather,” which made me think. I mean isn’t every day a day for the weather. When one gets right down to it it would be understandable for someone living on the moon to make that sort of remark, but it seems completely stupid to make that remark hear on earth. It would be a real problem if tomorrow there was no weather. I don’t think anyone one would be asking about the weather, but they might be choking for air.

pieces

THE VIEW

Everyone has windows
And no one is looking outside

LINKS

We are all links in a chain that are strangling our very freedoms

LIVING

When we deny death
We enslave life

NOT EVEN OBSCURE

I am a writer of no note
But still I must sing
Always out of key to the rest
Seeking questions from answers
Feeling depressed because I can’t conform
I am a writer of no note
( the greatest deceit is self-importance)

NORMAL?

The smallest minority within the human species is normal people
So, where does that leave the rest of us?
Trying to pretend to be like them.

WHAT WE ARE

When we deny being an animal
We deny being human

CREATION

With one thought
The universe is transformed

GLOBAL WARMING

I'll have a salad with that.

BELIEF IN SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T EXIST

I thrusted my hands forth
They became covered in blood
Thus I was granted true faith

I placed my head upon the block
I felt the blade’s eternal shock
And thus I became the holiest of ideologues

I was reborn in concrete truth
I had no need for any thoughts
I hunted down those unsound parts

I caught and chained my creativity
Condemned it to the dungeons beyond the light
Now all I have is my God.

WHEN THE SUN SETS

Dreams wash up on a shoreline. Flotsam and jetsam thoughts that only ever awaken hopes lost at sea. I am shipwrecked and so constantly alone on island in an ocean of fear. The island is sinking. The salted water has begun to lap against my feet. Dread, but I cannot step back, return to higher ground. Eyes search for signs amongst the broken vessels upon my arms. Sea birds cry accusingly, ”hu-man, you brought this upon thy self, ha, ha, ha, ha.” My longing has brought into my possession treasure chests filled with out of date mobiles, empty jerricans and record companies’ CD albums and free to air TV networks. My fresh water is found within the island’s heart bypass. I knew deep beneath my downloads and virtual realities that something had to give. So, here I stand at the island’s edge watching my world set. Tanned in cancer, overweight with regrets and filled with memories of things called snow and glaciers: It all melted away and turned seas into oceans and oceans into vast deserts that washed away the sands of Arabian Nights. I am the only one left. I am a Sinbad with no one to tell my tales