Nickel head Ted Turner owns land
Equal to Delaware and
Rhode Island.
Man,
How can they say size doesn’t matter, when such a smattering
Gives us all such a battering
Taking
In this finite world?
Yes, he made space for the bison
But he burgers them out for my son
Buggering yours.
Child pornography, abortion and deja vu.
Sure, those involved in child pornography should be caught, and made to suffer the legal consequences (along with a bit of therapy). No-brainer.
Abortion, well … here you’ve got heated debate. But, for the sake of moving on (leaving much aside), let’s say that LIFE begins with conception. For conversation’s sake. That being the case, we’re talkin’ abortion = murder. A whole different ball of wax than pictures of buggering.
There’s a whole lot of fuss — understandably — made out of the child pornography busts, but little about the buggering alluded to above … in the Ted Turner poem. Which refers to the screwing of all children, not just one kid. As in the bombed out babies in the video by Doner. War’s so often a cover for coveted land and underhanded game plans. Skewering humanity.
Those who can rationalize the napalming of so-called gooks or so-called towel heads need not read on. Others, I’d say, must read on and get with me.
[Pause.]
No more mamas crying, please.
[Pause.]
When I read the lines from Gibran
Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
it strikes me that that’s where the presumption starts. The misguided, terribly destructive idea that parents have the obligation/right to treat their children as if they are their children. From there it’s a small leap … nay, a tiny step into the realm where one can tweak, mangle and mutilate the souls of their offspring. “Hurry up with cleaning your room, we’ve got to get to soccer practice!” [Or any of the infinite # of “first cousins” of that dynamic.] Tell me again, if you will, why it’s okay to yell at children. Maybe I’ll get it.
Once parents go down that slippery slope of traditional parenthood, their kids are goners. They can too easily be made immiserated souls. They can effortlessly be encouraged to go off to war when they meet up with another authoritarian figure, especially if mom and/or pop are prone to singing America the Beautiful in the shower. Bowers begone!
And then, I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to tolerate your kids killing other kids. The combo of politicians, media and the Destruction of Schooling guarantees it … just in case you’re not fully with The Program.
Neither the so-called Taliban or Al-Queda are the threat they’ve been portrayed as being by beings making money and more off our wars. No more true than claiming the U.S. is about authentic democracy at home or abroad. Obviously. [Definitive documentation upon request.]
[Pause.]
I can’t take it no more. You can’t take it no more. And you will help me to end all abominations against children For we are all Life’s longing for itself.
Babies are born abroad with two heads because of our widely distributed, horrific depleted uranium. And our “babies” come home permanently damaged by that horror too. Slouching beasts goosestepping obliquely toward their own kin, souls akimbo.
Anything that’s not aligned with Life’s longing for itself we can kiss goodbye.
For the vast majority of people on this earth that would include child pornography. For a great many people that clearly embraces abortion. But for ALL citizens of the world it must include war.
And any definition of human nature which rationalizes war, unquestionably is not acknowledging Life’s longing for itself. [Pause.] Listen. [Pause.] Hear One Love’s children crying.
Contact me and I can explain how NAFTA and CAFTA and the like are wars against children too). I Say Tomato, I Say Potato. There are lots of ways to send them off. Don’t do any of them, please. Please get with me. There’s time. It’s called your heartbeats. [Pause.] But not much, for as we go through the day… our hearts and shoes (or feet) wear out… leaving a trail of death. I say Life’s Longing for Itself! What do you say?