ooze inside

Genes configure us. Culture/experience make us. Situations confound us and genetics limit our options. So the circle is; we drink because we have a hand, a glass and a thirst. If a drink is proscribed, and we are watched, despite a hand, a glass and a thirst we do not. Science must bow to the unhitched truth of social studies. Social studies must quit the illusion that it is science.

big bucks bucker boo a nation is toast

Democracies, after a while start to look like stock companies; one share one vote, not one citizen one vote. This happens because some members have a pathological desire for shekels. Little can prevent this. Ministers in high office, guardians of the peoples interest fall into toadyism and become grubs of gold. For a time damage to the democracy is checked by the folk traditions of shunning and tar and feathering. But the bloated bags of dough, the wealthy upper class, avoid this public humiliation (and the risk of losing their bags of gold)by preaching and reaching for EMPIRE. Hence, one of history's great ironies appears. The liberal democratic state transforms into a rabid international thug,a parody of itself. The good citizens of the democratic state are kept at bay(pray)by the poetry and loot of these "just" adventures into beyond border foraging. I as poet, assure all, that this under the fence grazing ends in death: the soldier citizen's death on the bloody fields of conquest, the death of innocent foreign(alien) people on the field of robbery and rape. They arise martyred, these collateral- the wretched regrets- to shame heaven and seal the destiny of demise that awaits all empires. However, the death that oozes the longest and utters the most pathetic rattle, is the death of the body politic that chose empire. It happens at a dance, a dance preformed naked, by skeletal bodies jumping up and down, flapping their arms as if wings going round and round a silent super gun, a one of a kind, monster, without ammo. It is revered as god. Perched on top this marvel, are admirals and generals dressed in peacock cock finery. They are lead in song by pinstriped suited, black shiny oh so shinny shod, good on t.v. guys and gals. The crazed citizens of the democratic EMPIRE expire unaware of their delusions, a folk who quit the great sport of shunning and tar and feathering for the worship of killing. The few citizen pathogens now exposed in victory slither over the bones singing; I've got it all,all more and still more all! The song is ended- now Hark and Mark marc; poet of empire--- All hail! HAIL liberty fish, bilibby bissh and hibbity dish, hooray!