Another Day Wastes Away
07 Sept 2008
As we approach the anniversary of the most devastating and humiliating attack against the globalist domination of our New World Order, we need to take a moment to remember and understand the reality of our demise. There is no clear end to the philosophical and political tunnel, when it comes to terrorism or radical fanaticism. In fact, now we are more vulnerable to a display of hatred than we have been, in the 232 years of our nation as a Republic. We are not more safe than we were, in these days following the 9/11 attacks, in fact, we are more open to the vulnerability of another, even more horrific, terrorist attack. In seven years since, the Disunited Estates of ShameriKKKa have accomplished more than instilling fear upon her citizens. We can pride ourselves on the notion that it was someone else; it was their problem, it is not really happening here, in the confines of our country. To this, I beg the answers of questions that have remained open, like oozing infected sores, as to our beliefs, and our direction, as the greatest and most technologically advanced excuse that we have known on the planet.
What has been accomplished in these last seven years of war and continued racist profiling? All Christians hate Muslims. All Muslims hate Christians and Jews. We got it. We still do not understand what it means to be forth giving and willing to embrace the universal tracts of Peace, Love and Harmony. We have shamed ourselves into the closet. We have lost faith in a government that will save us from the atrocities of Hate, and radical rebellion. We have given in to the terrorists. Seven years later, we refuse to be accountable for the actions that led up to the horrific hours of September Eleven, a few years ago. Refusing to look into the mirror of the screams of 3000 deaths, we impatiently wait for another attack. We are alone. We are bruised. Today, as movies roll over the screen, I am quickly reminded of the issues that paved the way to such an exhibit of hatred. We will never again negotiate with Hate.
In this, we have created a world that will not negotiate, that will not allow ourselves to be humiliated again, in the air or the ground. Meanwhile, we wreak havoc on the rest of the world, making up excuses and attempting to shift the blame of responsibility upon the Others. We fight for the right to fight, rape and pillage. We are our worse enemy. It is no accident. Today, we die on top of each other, our cindered ashes of World Trading, and the Center of the universe secured in the notion that we are still alive. Part of me, part of the world died on this day, seven years ago. The media of public awareness is shattered. Yet, we fly, we drive, we turn away from the issues at hand. We expect someone else to be accountable. We taint the rest of the world with our tallest buildings, and movie-making patriotism. We forget.
I am here to remind you that it can happen again, sooner than later. We can smell the hatred. Of the Other, and of ourselves. In an attempt to confiscate the hopes and dreams of others, we wait. We look a second time at an airplane of hope and dreams, and inside we know that we will never feel peace in our lifetimes. To this, I beg you to remember- to feel hurt, and fear. I coddle and nurture this discontent. We will never see the rainbow, the palette of nirvana, because we are alone in this, our shame. We live inside the cocoon of hate that breeds the loss of life, and the loss of honor. Why? Because we can. We have allowed ourselves to be motivated by the fanatical extremists of our time. We lay down our arms of sanctity, our love of freedom. We allow wiretapping, and we do not question the authorities of hate. We base our lives on the notion that we cannot overcome the horrific side of ourselves that we know as tomorrow. Justifying our hatred of the Other, we encompass and hug the ideals that created terrorist rebellion at its core. In simple words, we are our enemy.
In the seven years that have passed, while we shun the notion of righteousness, we refuse to look back, to look into our selves. Today, the terrorists win. Today, we forget our yesterdays. Seven years pass, and we are willing to accept and demand the loss of three thousand civilian casualties. To this, we do not beg forgiveness. Today, we all die a little inside. Do you feel more secure now, in our bunkers, in our foxholes of patriotism than we did, a few short years ago? Do we know why and what would cause such a debacle of fate? Can we not look at ourselves in the mirror, and reflect on the notion of the Other? Do we cater to the long and brutal arms of war and death? In this, we are more paranoid and expecting of another attack, another excuse to hinder the gasps of peace. We are willing to kill, now, without recourse, and without a means of explanation. It is simple, really. We are motivated by our hate.
It is acceptable to hate our neighbors. It is not justifiable discourse for us to embrace a change of mentalities. Today, more people will die of starvation, ethnic cleansing and cluster bombs, than ever before in our minute and childish understanding of reality. Today, the monster wins. We stopped paying attention, four decades ago. Powerless, the government grovels and digs for a foothold of identity. War is war, and she tastes like blood. Intentions aside, there was not a reason why the kidnapping and hostaging of four airplanes would awaken the American populous, but it did. We live and die scared of ourselves. It was the inevitable action behind many motions of foreign policy, and domestic failings. Unlike the hurricanes, fall of the stock market, and foreclosure bust, faced with a cultural significance, a sort of identity crisis, we collectively hope that there is a moment to forget. They will never ever forgive us. They will bring their children, strapped to vests of dynamite, and ask that we teach them of our weaknesses, and our failings. Actions did not dismantle the need to believe, to exist, to grow up and die, naturally. Action has precluded, abused and misplaced responsibility. Action necessitates reactions. No one has demanded that you live here, nor has anyone screamed loud enough for you to leave. We call this idea Freedom. We married this ideal with Justice and Truth. We are alone now, with our excuses heavily sedated and leaning on our lives, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he snores. Today, we will never have the chance to dictate laws of oppression. We are the products of our beliefs, and the chains of anger. We are the damnation of that we call our homes.
Bury your excuses along with the dead. Explain yourself. Keep it real. We cannot find you in the smoke and mirrors of the Walmatization of our lives. With a whimper, as opposed to scream, we are alone in the notion that it is, indeed, a matter of time. The book of characters demands that we script a death of ideals, and a suicide of emotions. History prophetically demands our demise. Because we can, we die a little bit more, today, and in the next week. We drool, and fool around with notions of immortality, while we dance around and chant upon Ground Zero death. We will not negotiate, and you will not think about our demise. Tomorrow, nothing will happen.
