“The war I never asked for”:
There is a war raging around me, one I did not ask for. It is real. It is war. It is threatening my life. There’s no way to hide from it, no way to reason with it and there is no way out. My government is trying to kill me. Me, specifically, because I have a disease. It is an awful disease that requires me to be sliced open and a dead piece of me to be removed and transplanted with a foreign object that was donated with love, for this purpose. This sickness is pure evil and it is coming for me.
Right now, the dark horsemen are gathering in their dark private chambers sculpting a law of the land that is so rancid, so foul, and full of such vitriol and contempt towards its own citizens that I am left with my jaw agape. The cowards that call themselves Republicans are sculpting a weapon that is a kin to omnicide. (Yes, I just made that word up, it means — ”trying to kill the masses, indiscriminately.”) with its sole intent to make the rich even richer. They are about to deprive citizens of this great country with no option for healthcare because of crimes committed against us called “pre-existing conditions”. Crimes and conditions that we did not ask for, all for the sake of money. Dark dollars that are soaked in the blood of the innocent.
How much money is enough? Is there an amount? Does it have a size limit? How will they know when it is it enough? Does the mere possession of money automatically erode common decency, basic humanity and compassion? It must, or we wouldn’t be in the horrendous situation that we are in right now. My government is controlled by mass murderers who are masking their intentions with greed and lies. I refuse to take this treatment lying down. If I do, I will die. I have a voice and I am using it loudly and with as many decibels is I can muster. “CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?”
I must say, though, it is taxing… So taxing. I feel it’s sucking the life out of me. My soul feels like a forgotten, shriveling peach left under the desert sun. I am an artist. I am a creator. I make beauty out of inspiration. I take a space that has nothing and leave it with something. I am a lover, not a fighter. Yet, here I am in a situation where I must fight harder than I’ve ever fought before. I have no formal training in battle techniques. The best that I can do is stay informed and act intelligently in this #resistance. Violence is not yet upon us, but I would be naïve not to keep a vigilant eye out for it happening. Things are coming to a head quickly, and I don’t mean like a pimple… I mean a fucking volcano. It is about to erupt and the compassionate, caring people on this planet are the ones that are forced to fight like Spartan love warriors against this evil plague. The very fabric of our society and life as we know it depends on this. There is no thin veil here, pure evil is upon us. It abounds. We are surrounded peripherally and from above by our government. The newly minted “evil empire”.
I have no idea how the angry, ignorant masses were able to coalesce in such numbers as to elect an “Anti-Christ”-like menace as our sovereign “false God”, but they did…and this befuddles me. How did the stupid, ignorant and angry beings take control of the intelligent, educated and enlightened ones? Where was the chink in our armor? Which door did we leave unlocked?
Do the ignorant masses enjoy the flavor of lies? They seem to eat them up like a starving man who hasn’t seen nourishment for weeks. Do they like the taste? Do they like the false sense of power that they feel that it brings them?
Lies disgust me. I can’t stand the smell of them. Nor, could I ever, ever stand having the taste of them in my mouth. Lies smell like rotting flesh to me. Rotting flesh that’s being vomited by zombies who have no soul. All I can do to keep from throwing up, is run from them.
I eat truth, and only truth. I drink knowledge. I forage for wisdom. My quest keeps me well fed, well hydrated and full of energy… Unless…
I find myself surrounded with lies so deceptive that they are toxic… 100% fatal. Where there are lies, there is no love. Where there is no love, there is no air. Where there is no air, there is only death. Yet somehow I am surrounded by the undead. They feed on the living. Somehow, they inhale love and exhale hate. They drink money and piss entitlement. They eat peace and shit pain and misery. They are a perplexing breed, and not to be taken lightly. They are relentless. They are at my door, as we speak. I’m sorry to end so abruptly but I must stand up and fight these evil, undead, soulless pieces of shit. They’re coming for my life. If they happen to flank me and somehow get to me, they will have to take me piece by piece. I will fight them with whatever I have left. Before they eat my head, my last gesture will be to spit in their faces. I may be forgotten because I am one of the millions awaiting this same fate, but at least I will leave this place fighting tooth and nail, to the bitter end. I will use my last bloody fingernail to scratch and scrawl into the floor that, “I WAS HERE! I FOUGHT LIKE HELL AND I MATTERED!” That will be my small victory.
©Brian Kesselring 2017
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