2 February 2012

Leaders Today, Vol. I

You (men) and mothers of all nations lived execrably well until you were won by the presence of kings. By today progress will equal life, issued from that soldier low with truth. You and I, rather we, were trusted with my sorrow, but it lay hidden in the advancement of rights. Though her diametrically opposed thoughts are policed by liberty and taxed in the court of Brahmins, the sound of her voice will eventually be restored. Because they who feel according to patient proposals, are citizens taught to love the battlefield. A sentence is upon the women strikers: their bodies are mere land to be labored. The insulted and tardy will of the people, should therefore be decided less by cannibals. I shall have it! The white market will not be overhauled under our boss’s entirely vile foot. That sister Sara and her three possessions fell, like wages, from the country into the streets, where she now dines. One of the sons of socialism works off his revolutionary lungs in sweated malignity. And their brains, first politically contained, then supported by catastrophes, will in time be abolished by work, the day when no corner of the West shall be weakened by the death of just mothers. A feeble Siberian peasant stands like iron by his speech on counterrevolution and the violence of conquest; his mind assembled, the sword blessed, before the theatre of high treason. The mountaineer slowly loses his teeth, imprisoned by the red god: these ain’t unlimited dreams! They escaped their local caste into the night of a new dialectic. A Network backed by partisans of imperialism wants to poison the soil with propaganda of grief. Rise little age! There the new land!  Society marked with peculiar instruments of justice, continents of progress, all embracing the end. You must have my next prophet killed. Leaders form classes, who cannot supersede them whilst firmly deceived by songs of beasts. An almost possible concept: decisive act tears and divides the institution of blood. It retreats. You wounded system that fought reconciliation: separate yourself from truth, part with promise, and we blind people, whose values of sickness and death you defended, will at last obtain the right to replace you. In the land of freaks, her monstrous imagination is not held by time, but signals strength. Sacrifice all our incapable words, every image of origins, to the living language of need. Spirit! Trade my name for the manifesto of the people. The reservoir of time births democracy; consciousness arises from the painful fog of compliance. Your socio-political machines organized our bitter and warring memories. A sole subject destined to power, a martyr of her own will, has nothing but community, so we the rich proceed to justice and sense. On change, and the cultural empowerment and imperialism of the poor: provide people the occupation of knowledge, Capitalism’s field of everyday life. Farewell to this infamy.

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