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Tag Archives: power

we want, demand new government
but then we will want, demand again
and again we will demand to be free
free from the choices we previously made
and the circumstance that followed
we, the ungovernable
wanting to be governed
by a government who are themselves endemically ungovernable
demanding that they themselves are to remain unaccountable
to govern in freedom without external controls
uncontrolled by those who demand to be governed anew
to be governed by those who will listen to them
and do their bidding
so we vote again
and again


we all have an achilles heel
those of us who work out diligently in the gym
have more visible ones

in the land of the trees
the bark is of far greater value
than the bite

if there are no orders

someone will make them

natural order simply is

it poses no demand for obedience

true obedience is nothing but submission

submission is nothing but surrender to selflessness

selflessness seeks no control

selflessness neither desires nor resists


the criminally insane

casting ballots

at the annual inmates general election

a mock formality

while the guards look on

smirking as the folly unfolds before their eyes

a form of mockery

the masses queue up

fighting, jostling

to elect one fool

over the other fools

one fool to be king

for a while

just for a space in time

only  a space in the minds …of those who play the game


to be king

the king of fools

a fool of a king

the new ruler of the bent and corrupt

vying for the worthy title of “THE FOOL OVER ALL FOOLS”


so we all raise our hands

arms outstretched

with elbows locked as if in mortal combat

fingers arching outwards, then clawing in and slamming shut

like the desperate tentacles of dying sea anemone

desperately clinging

to some precariously endangered coral reef

grasping at the loose sands

the frail winds of empty promises

arms then return to our sides

filled only with the imaginary substance

of that which we hope will sustain us


and we all strive

with all our imaginary might

to make our mark in the air

random sparklers in a fantasy sky

vanity, chasing the wind

like the fools of the fool

believing we have caught it

that we have indeed captured the wind…


and so we tell ourselves that we’re happy

until the next time…

but indeed

we, the mindless

fossils with no fuel

we are faithful to the task



once upon a time greed went to war with greed
after a long and devastating battle, greed eventually won

there is an ancient African proverb that says,

“when two bull elephants fight,
it’s the grass that suffers”


the politicians hypocritic oath:

the dodgefull art of inequantity

when all that is to be gained

is what is in front of me




we only have ourselves to serve
and others are the means
we sell ourselves as humble souls
at least that’s how it’s seen

the world looks on as we sing our song
and in chorus even chant along

but in the end,
as from the beginning too
it’s all about me,
not much about you

the pursuit of money is the quest for power… the unbridled quest for power is a primal drive to cover our own insecurity and weakness … truth, ethics, morality, sophistication… these are secondary trivialities in this desperate, universal equation


there is no such thing as universal subjectivity
subjectivity is … subjective
when subjectivity gains a social conformity it is always at a cost
this cost is primarily to the individual
it demands a compromise that subjugates reason and sensibility and elevates primal insecurity in all individuals
it needs no policing because if any individual thinks, speaks or acts independently they are censured, marginalized and if necessary expelled
it is also at great cost to the whole group as it lowers the honesty, integrity, intelligence, morality, ethics, functionality, productivity, etc. … to the lowest common denominator
one of the most deceptive forms of social conformity is democracy
democracy is manipulative and coercive at its root and masquerades brazenly as individual and corporate freedom and power to and for the people, but in effect only emasculates a group or even a nation and reduces its value and effectiveness to the level of the scum at the very bottom of the collective gene pool
religion and capitalism are the identical murderous twins of democracy
it is difficult to say which came first, but they are all equally diabolical
socialism and communism are merely democracy at an even more mindless, vulgar and violent level

to be or not to be 1

as one legendary man dies in a cloud of controversy and deception, another brazenly ploughs the seeds of discontent watered by that same cloud …

all little boys desire to be king,

but if they mature they soon realize it is all vanity and that they are mere mortals,…

… but some don’t

cry the beloved country…


Hamlet offers an eerie ring to our present context…

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s Contumely,
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Be all my sins remembered.[2]