Uncle Sam, Goddamn…

I needed to get this out.

 

Brother Ali says “This is a showtune, but the show ain’t been written for it yet”… I beg to differ.  The show’s been written, the sham-production’s been underway for centuries, and people’s fists are raised but they don’t have a clue what-for.  The people that walked out of the show or fled screaming turned to find the true landscape that’s been raped, tied-up and barricaded by caution-, duct- and ticker-tape.  Those that stood with mouths agape were caught off-guard, given a black hood, raped, and draped in stripes and stars.  They were lied-to, fed bullshit and scars, then friends they knew found they’d died too, only trapped in cubicles and cars.  We’re so wrapped-up in our docudrama that we can’t even see the panorama, left bruised and bleeding with the blue skies receding, minds self-defeating, given life-support and just enough for eating.

Why the hell are we serving this madness?  Why are we proactive in giving nothing but sadness?  We can’t even escape our own disgrace and history, colored by riots of race, bloodshed and political mystery.  This is our story, our creed, our birthright, and it’s being stolen right out from under us.  Rich bastards don’t give a shit, why should they?  They’re sailing-by in their limo while a beggar bleeding from his gums can’t walk cause he lost his leg defending that fat-f*ck’s “rights” in a war that wasn’t his own.  Or at least that’s what they told him before he shipped-off: “You’re going forth to defend freedom and defeat evil”.  What a doozy, schmoozing even the brightest of us.  They can’t see the evil that’s telling them what to do, The Overseer’s fallaciousness and self-contradiction aren’t plain-to-see.  Smoke-and-mirrors, stripes-and-stars; stolen for the cross in the name of God.  Can you feel it?  That cold shadow comin’ up behind you?  That’s The Overseer, but it’s okay; even The Overseers got raped along the way.  Well, you can’t change this pain or this shame to their soul.  Try and separate a man from his soul?  You’ll only strengthen him and lose your own.

So what’s the working-class to do?  Hell yeah, I’m talkin’ about you…  You probably can’t see the pills they’ve been dealing to you, wrapped-up in a pretty big bow taming you like the shrew.  What more do you need to see to be convinced this isn’t liberty?  This is tyranny written into law by corporations and politicians that were bought-and-paid-for.  This is more than just a “culture war” or a 101-style run of a war of class, this decides your fate and your place near The Overseer’s dinner plate.  Are you going to scramble when Massa yells “Crunch time”, crawling back for scraps?  Or are you going to give that asshole a bit of Hell and get over that crap?

It’s time for a change, it’s time to embrace the rage.  Don’t just rage, but make a change and make it yours.  Do something you know they might attack you for, stop standing-for what you’ve been standing-for.  Like politicians don’t cater to the rich and abandon the poor?  It’s not just a different brand of war, it’s a brand that’s moving to score… over your dead body.  Just remember that when they’re dragging your flag to rags and your front-lawn’s spangled with epitaphs, I won’t be laughing.  Because when the red comes flooding down the street, and you haven’t got enough to eat, it’ll only be the graveyard that The Overseers will be staffing.

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