Sunday, June 2, 2013

quick fix syria

Identity crisis, who are you, what made you, did you appear, what is your term plan, do you have insurance, can you afford a mortgage, are you a gang, certainly. Three year old, gaga for TV, regularly exposed to violence, not physically, on the screen, forced to mix in, no mind of its own, experts say so, a just formation, the organized crime clan.
Government special report, response to nationwide angst, zealots ambush legislation, common sense no chance, lobbying bribing interfering clever gang, think they won.
Details read them, claim is invalid sir, no mention of premiums, no refund either, it’s written in the details, no medication in your cover either, says the company man.
Tyrants govern natives slaughtered, UN enters the equation, refer to article 96285, need agreement of entire counsel, cuts out hope instantly, revolutionaries make plans.
No one takes responsibility, ad hoc efforts at best, good Samaritan comes along, makes a sudden impact, concerts and gala performances, Zimbabwe how we failed that test.
Mighty thinking about it, usage of language pure spin, repeating phrases, flip flop change a lot, trending at the minute, how many hits did that get, alarm bells going off.
Multi tasking dexterous fast thinking, keep it up son, going to the top, he smiles that boyish grin, races home tells new wife, thirty years busy, children hardly see him.
My looks all I got, has anyone seen my prozac, I’ll take a zanax, everyone reaches for the pocket, take mine take mine instead, when did it all go mad, pop one sane again.
There used to be a time, the vulnerable supported, women adored, children were treasured, that was over a thousand years ago, where has the love fled.
I’ve heard it all, God stamps the table hard, cracks it into a thousand pieces, free will free will, love is supposed to be, not a cancerous disease, of jealousy hate and betrayal.
Now they  tell me, imagine that scowls St.Peter, they preach everywhere, they can’t forgive a  brother, there’ll be war sooner than later, the boss has other plans.
Emergency provisions that’s all, few patriotic missiles for moral only, don’t expect them to use them, it’s in the contract, same one we signed with Mugabe our brother.

Pope Clementine wrote, no one speaks it honestly, not even the poets anymore, not even scientists, near his end of days, such was what he wrote, 800 years ago, what would he make of today. Questions we don’t want answered, find me a quick fix cause, amen.

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