Tuesday, July 1, 2008

God wants me Dead

Eddie James Writing
Anarchist Literature

September 2005

God wants me dead

It is plain to see that when the gods intervene and circumstances conspire to poison an entire culture that few if any can stand against the storm without fear and prejudice that accompanies tyranny and complicity. The little ones that never see, now see a vision of confusion and manufactured ignorance on a scale so large that it defies description. Never has there been a generation of apathetic ignorant killers so prolific that it encompasses every aspect of society from the highest of the high to the lowest of the low. When social class conspires to destroy categories of K-mart shoppers what little is left is left unsaid. The poor, the ignorant, shift through molassess to find refuge in avoiding death in small tiny apartments. The working class, the support network, is infilitrated with the torture of labour and the evil smirk of genocidal scandal. The underclass, the dispossessed are fed and clothed by tainted money gathered by thieves and rogues who murder for fun. The middle class, the office worker, shift through life like sheep not knowing their sheer but jeered at by the dirty insane jabbering of the ever enclosing fist of fear who watches on TV the zoned out masses staring at the light that feeds their dim minds. The rich, the wealthy, those that feed on greed and avarice, plot the destruction of the youth in mass camps of rape and torture casually referred to as high schools and shopping malls. The actors, the fake out artists, who stand and stare at lust and fear find themselves trapped by pulleys and levers that rust their minds like a sunken ship sailing on the bottom of a rotten sea called a mass of hopeless conformity glued together by the force of violence and a willingness to harm anyone.

The insane jabbering of god almighty ringing in my ears like an insane choo choo train of hypocritical antichrist rhetoric fills my mind with fear and pain of destructive enemies always willing to break and run rampant over one more broken body while hate and hope conspire to murder love and gentle kindness witnessed by a god full of wilful blindness. What more evil stalks its prey left defenceless by the senile musing of one left apart who sits in judgment of our very souls and fills our minds with the need to pretend love or fall down dead in a ditch wasted by neglect and the unbending desire to watch idly by while millions fall plundered under the yoke of gleeful malice.

To surrender to worship to one so callous and thoughtless because circumstances conspire to rob the good of their ability to fight and to be left with the slap of pretence that one should have loved better or done worse to survive bloodshed and organized terror. To know the face of god and to see the ignorance and petty vindictiveness of the all powerful who so many have served up to the point of death and despair. The traitor, the jailbird, the laughing hyena of a bitter moon only half full of light that wanes to protect the decent in order to enjoy the bloodlust of evil joy that thinks nothing of the moment beyond the kill of one more mother, child, daughter, friend and enemy of the underground tyranny lost in ignorance and fear of powers unknown and forces unseen but rooted in the bowels of despair and the coming winds of change. What poisons the mind more than empty promises, dirty remarks and detached amusement of ancient evil or apathy that seeks to benefit those that plough others under and abandon those who fight and die for peace.

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