Dominance Games / Politics
The moods moody. The lights misty. The dancing seals dancing. Blood sport sporting. Kill sport killing. Derision sport deriding. They damned well like it.
Commentary as machete for the lazy and the rich. Toys to be abused for the ones who take wings off of flies. Hateful hates. Vile devils. Deemed demons. They damned well love it.
Hope is for those who work at something.
Trips to lovers lane are guaranteed those who look mighty and brave in their mirrors of choice. Mouths mouthing, egos flaunting, dunces duncing, tantrums wailing…… no childhoods end. They damned well love it.
Trendy rackets and self immolation. They damned well love it. More the thrill of erotic passion. They damned well love it. More the vivid. More the emasculating. More the basically simpleton;s simple. They damned well love it.
Self inflation, self importance, self flagellation, self satisfaction….. the show of them forever. Great wars of swords and sorcerers they play. Chargers chargers. Heroes heroing blithely saving fair maidens from any undesirable greatness.
Zoos come and go and animals act up and perform and there is comfort in the love. Tactics. Tougher. Stronger. More evocative of pain.
The bating bated, the hate hated, the smarms smarmed. The fight enjoined. Odiousness …. the smell of flowers…. the all purpose passport. Thine self holy, wise, noble and good. Fondle the love.
I think they like it. They damned well love it.
Screech. Screech. Shrill. Shrill. Color tawdry and putrid. Enemies divine. They play good and they kiss their shadows. Power allows.
Night is coming. The dreams of all good people are coming. The rough hewn sleeve rollers are coming. Get thrown under the bus and to the wolves.
Love makes to play dirty. Sincerity makes to implore noble tricks of the trade. Speak loudly and club the bastards to death. Taste the taste… blood lust, blood sport, blood.
Some are better at it than others. The real joys of politics.
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Dominance Games: Rancid fire
Posted in current events, dominance, News, opinion, Politics with tags analysis, Commentary, Government, political satire, power on July 21, 2011 by B SchiffDominance Games: Politics
Again we mock the human soul. Again we mock the human spirit. The cadres of popular imagery are apparent no more. Damn the torpedoes, all speed ahead. The more we behave badly the better we become at ability. The more we are drunk with the powers of sure observation, the more we are observant of the void. The emptiness of the great desert of formless nothing haunts our futures and it is a barren desert, a hot dry place.
The landscape gets cold at night, a counterpoint to the extreme heat of the day. It is an uninviting place, the future in times of trouble and uncertainty. It mocks us, our belief in it, in its presence, its shape. It can retreat and hide, run away or crush. It stares us down a hungry lion.
Deal with what isn’t there. Deal with what is. Build monuments to what is not real. Build real to what monuments we do not have.
A view the other side .
A view from trying to beard the tremulous lion.
The future gets cold at night. It burns heat during the day. It sears heat and rains acid. It sears our nightmares, our night sweats. It commands us our apprehensions. The landscape gets cold at night, a counterpoint to the extreme heat of the day. The landscape gets cold at night and rains down arrows of pain and violent hail storms of anger.
The landscape gets cold at night. It freezes and mimics. It throws godlike presence and excuses for the messianic.
The landscape gets cold at night and it offers fight and flight, panic and arrogance, acrimony, back bites, division, lust, dominance and void. It offers the fun of fear and the great chances to harness same.
The landscape gets cold at night and it offers cold power and rancid fire.
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