Whatever we can think
Whatever we can fear
It will be worse
Snorting Adderall off the body of pubescent teen
Bombing schools as distraction
The eating of children – metaphorical or literal
It seems to make no difference
Noam Chomsky, what the fuck are you doing on that plane
Geopolitics is a libertarian fantasy
Rogue nations are the ones with nuclear weapons
The ones who bomb other nations in the name of peace
The ones who ignore international law, the U.N., and their own people
When the powerless kill people we call it terrorism
When the powerful kill we call it a police action
Strangely appropriate, except to the victims
Please let it be a Mossed operation
Because otherwise
The powerful and uber rich want what they want
And therefore, they get what they get
We’d welcome the lizard people at this point
We are here to serve them…
With a uniform and a gun fighting their wars
With our water and our electricity for their A.I. Slop
With our taxes and their tax breaks paying for enshitification
With a credit card and a smile at predatory capitalism
With our lower standard of living and poverty waiting in the wings
…and to be served to them
On a private plane and on a private island
Meanwhile our political classes are summed up by nature documentaries
A penguin walks across the frozen tundra to the mountains, probably beyond its reach
An idol to the right
Exploring a new frontier
With a head of full of visions and lofty goals
A rugged individual who does not want to wait around in the shit of others
To the left
A social animal losing its mind
Wondering from the society of the group to die alone
An outcast of its own rejectionist insanity
But the penguin still dies irrespective of who is holding its hand
And so it is that I get on my knees
Supplication, like so many before me
The allied leaders, the billionaires, and the political sycophants
And I open my mouth
It’s like a mushroom – wider than it is longer
Fitting it all in my mouth
A hand on my head…
And then biting down with all my strength
The flood of the taste of iron and justice in my mouth
The tearing of flesh,
As the fat fuck bleeds out and shits his pants one last time
It’s not a guillotine,
But it will do
Who’s next?
Image: “Death Intoxicated” Percy John Delf Smith, 1919
Partly inspired by a video essay by the Feral Historian on YouTube
Word Outlet 