by Don Nash, Unknown News
Feb. 15, 2005
- Prelude -
“If we kill them, they will see our point.”
“Our Glorious Leader”
- Chapter I -
A bonfire of the insanities becomes the flames of freedom, therefore liberation is death. The body is liberated from the soul, the soul is liberated from the body. Democracy therefore is destruction. We are at liberty to invade, to destroy, and preemptive conquest is the divine right of illegitimate kings. Whatever is yours becomes ours by right of occupation.
All hail the conquerors, the messengers of liberty. You are at liberty to die and we bring you free elections. You are free to choose the candidate of our selection.
- Opus -
The political harmonics of genocidal mania would be composed in D sharp. You can see the discordant ripples on the surface of a pond flowing outward from the center of atrocity, a miasmic memorial to the insanity of brutal slaughter. But really, is slaughter so brutal as to preclude its being set to music? Harmonic interludes for the measure of screaming as children are incinerated with napalm. Those that are loath to look and see the murder wrought by mighty warriors. Those that do pose as the champions of freedom. The flame of liberty is death and the liberation of body from soul is cause celebre, cause extraordinaire, cause as weak rationale. Mass murder masks itself as political expedience. Fascist emancipation is nothing more than the sedition of truth.
Death becomes the great emancipator and champion for freedom. Death then is the ultimate freedom. “Our Glorious Leader” sings the virtue of destruction and “Our Glorious Leader” sings the songs of ignoble death. Death be not proud to lay down a young head for the young are but a whisper of memory. The shrieking memory of a man and a woman and they shared a dream for the future. The future is thus the sardonic laughter and harsh reminder that two souls will no longer share the joy of their union.
Freedom then is the celebration of the union of mockery and deceit. Freedom then means repression. Freedom descends from the skies wearing the uniform embroidered with the multiple names of death. Shock and awe. Righteous warriors in defense of the motherland of freedom. The homeland security is once again secure. The young spawn of dangerous threat are nothing more than spots on the sidewalk of greed. The greasy reminder of just how noble and virtuous the defenders of liberty can be. Death does the uniform dance of victorious desecration. The free were never threatened and the dead will remain, dead.
- Mephisto Intermezzo -
Is it not a symphony as bombs and missiles scream their message of destruction? The softer harmony of raining destruction down on homes, farms, hospitals, and children as they play in a street that is now obliterated. The holy fire of liberation is shrouded with a napalm flag. In a B flat crescendo that is escape across a burning bridge. Therefore escape becomes a judgment and trial by the fires of freedom’s ringing. Die, all you who would question our right to bring the flames of democracy to every shore across our vast world. Who would dare to question our divine right of occupation. Our divine right of desecration and destruction. The evil empire of tyranny must be torn away and made pure for the flame of liberty.
If one dies then ten die then hundreds of thousands die. “Our Glorious Leader” has decreed that it must be so. It must be so brutal and it must be so total. ‘They’ hate our way of democracy and ‘they’ hate our freedoms. Freedom is not cheap nor is it easy, for them that would have to be on the receiving end of shock and awe. Awesome is it not, a symphony in catastrophic major. Their deaths are not as easy as some may have the world believe. On any recurrent Friday on the second recurrent month, we pause in remembrance of those that have been sacrificed and yes, it is worth the price that they must pay for, freedom is not cheap nor is it easy.
Therefore comes the hushed brief pause as misery catches its breath. A slight intermission for the clearing of the dead. From the streets or so these streets used to be. The shock and awe from a softer raining of destruction. Democracy’s delivery seems a harsh and intolerant work yet as the flames of liberty burn a growing funeral pyre, a conductor pauses and the chorus pauses and the orchestra holds it’s baited breath.
- A Celebratory Intermission -
The defenders of democratic dogma lift the sacrificial cup filled with the blood of innocents. Transmogrification comes and a host of murderous angels proclaim the arrival of demagogue preachers. The preachers of hate attend the congregation of disbelief and before the altar erected for desecration, truth is sacrificed and it is truth that in hindsight, is wasted on the parishioners.
“Our Glorious Leader” shudders a thought that is thought if only to himself, “have I ever thought an original thought, apart from my thoughts on death?” So with no answer forthcoming and the hordes of menace waiting, the pause becomes pregnant with the tension that is pending death.
The conductor signals his distaste for the wait and commences his symphony once again. A curtain raises and a trumpet proclaims that democracy moves on from here.
- A movement becomes an act too
The defenders of dogma, the warriors of dreadful deceit, and the authors of genocidal mania grow gleefully impatient and thoughts of willful genocide and atrocity mark time to sinister music. Does not music hath charms to calm the savage beast, or is it worthwhile to pause for reflection on a process that has been beat? Elections come and elections go and results are what we make them. If murderous is as a politician does, can atrocity ever be reverential? Symphonies and reveries and stylized atrocious death becomes the political spin of democracy as it destroys it’s intended victim.
- In Delecto Finito -
The children were screaming when democracy was delivered and they all died in the very same manner. Shocked and awed and then disbelief as horror climbed on top of more horror. The medics came and were hustled away and the snipers made it a point to emphasize their demands with a well placed aim and the bullet drove home the soldiers message of “get the hell away.” Democracy is at work here and liberty is a harsh mistress with demands for death and more death and destruction and desecration. So when a curious question was posed and refused and the honorable diplomats acted confused ... genocide is never genocide until we decide.
A requiem mass would be evenly divided between criminals and simple murderers. Therefore a funeral dirge would serve to purge the actors from the audience. A nation watches in disbelief as a land of liberty is reduced to some ashes that have blown off of a shelf. Just so much mess that was cause for the rest of the world to watch in horror. Democracy becomes destruction therefore liberty becomes the flames that burn the foundations of freedom.
Therefore symphonic debates in orchestral and ornate halls of supposed justice are nothing more than an exercise in futility. Hypocrisy therefore is modus operandi and politicians are derelict in duty. Constitutional oaths performed by lying politicians are theater of the absurd. But the hundreds of thousands of dead are still dead and will ever be nothing more. Democracy, liberty, and freedom are a scathing salutation of ‘we will dominate. We will incinerate. We will not hesitate to destroy your land, your homes, your loved ones, and occupation will become your lot in life so you had better learn to enjoy it.’
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