The imbecile is at work in world busy about its activities Giving opinions, acting without thought, Obdurate in pursuit of gimcrack distractions and automatic as machine. The imbecile stews in soups of inactivity Natural as wind, bubbling to the surface tireless banalities The imbecile passes through unnoticed Like the quotidian affairs of your neighbor. The one you never knew. What can be said of the lunatic? It has been caged, drugged and beaten Disavowed in prayer and confession Driven into homeless oblivion Domesticated as a dog by breeding Its violent aggression now submissive Its passions forced into hiding. The lunatic is a threat Born wholly from dissatisfaction of Living between the bile and the ideal. Despondent from suffering, Raging against all, screaming fitfully against the order of things from instinct alone. The lunatic cannot reason and the imbecile doesn’t care. Give me the lunatic and I will take it as my friend For I can see that it is fully awake and all it has suffered But the imbecile is without awareness or conscience Left to work in the world it brings misery Because it notices nothing and cares only for the next Distraction Bring me the lunatics They are my brothers and sisters They are art, crying for expression.
Who can forget that Texas fraud Lyndon Baines Johnson? He was as corrupt a politician as could be found in DC, making Richard Nixon look positively virtuous. He became the worst president in American history since Roosevelt. Both of them made Utopian plans as only a politician can, smug and self-satisfied that with enough political will, money and power they could overcome material reality and human intransigence. Listen to this sound clip below and ask yourself how is this promise, fifty years ago, any different than the utopian promises of today?
Of course , this is wasted on true believers. If you point out the utter failure, the contemptible waste of resources, they will always tell you, the right people haven’t done it yet, it was a success really or it failed because of saboteurs from the opposition. It’s an endless loop that each new generation plays. Promise Utopia:Fail:Reframe:Blame:Repeat. The only thing they accomplish is loss of liberty and freedom.
No more inspirational stories I can’t take it The indomitable spirit The missing limbs Cancer's consumed child Smiling, bald and brave There under studio lights are The clicking teeth of the poignancy thieves Selling misery's might in HD pain until Nothing is felt Where are the stories of broken spirits? Destroyed by tragedy The ones that never recover That’s who I’m praying for The ones you’ll never see Honored in the nightly news For a ratings jubilee