Let’s march on the graveyard of ideas and summon a great being that I can parade on my shoulder. I shall wave and make you feel important for having been graced by my presence with a monarchistic wink and a sigh that you fortunately cannot think. But at least we now agree we each deserve a life and that part where we enslaved different people, well let’s just pretend that wasn’t totally vile. We’ll distance ourselves from those who suffered at the hands of our indecisions. No obviously that doesn’t have any ramifications that will still be felt tomorrow. I do adore the principle that if it wasn’t for us in our palaces we’d all be left to feast upon each other. Thank you for lapping up our manners.
I squirm and send my condolences that I didn’t ingest the subliminal memo. But then who owns the right to parade about better, it’s all based on symbolism, dears. And sure a few galleons full of money to dump at the feet of those they can’t kill or convince comes in useful. At least my right to life is tacitly acknowledged. Don’t ask about those people from forgotten lands with an ulterior vision that were slaughtered in their millions. I don’t feel particularly comfortable with human beings so easily discarded in distant lands and I won’t mention when we stole the food from our neighbours’ table. It mustn’t be acknowledged. Power is a mere abstraction, not to be talked about, that’s for the devious and envious, the callous, unwashed, unprincipled slackers.
Whisper it if you have to, we can’t keep track of everything that happens. The problem with conspiracy theories is that they’re often seeded in the manure of the dubious but questions of disaster become cobwebbed by their promise of a photo that nobody bothered to ask who was taking.
You get me? This cluster fuck we’re engaged in angers the demons which wrangle with why they have been misunderstood for willing us to throw off our own complicity. What the gods shackled us with when they were tendering us to “just do better”. Nobody cares for the intricacies of that inner life you’re living.
Unless you quickly, quietly unmask yourself from that niggling feeling that tells you to envision how you’re implicating someone else’s feelings. No, this isn’t an invitation to act like a dick, just consider that maybe playing to the crowd is a recipe for disaster. The tyranny of the majority plastering over the cracking bricks as we realise our disdain for the difficult is actually the roots which suffocate new ideas. Why can’t it just be easy? Believing for something better.
Just because a lot of people have reckoned something doesn’t make it real. Just because you’ve believed something means it’s real for that instant. Bollocks isn’t it, festering in such logical absurdities. You are the only one who can make a land for your senses. Just don’t go believing in them. It might upset the crowd. Got to start somewhere though if you want to melt down the crown.