When the Night Comes Falling
I saw thousands who could have overcome the darkness. For the love of a lousy buck, I watched them die. –Bob Dylan
I’ve seen thousands of politicians in my time, I’ve seen them sell their souls for power, I’ve had to listen to their lies ever since the Gulf of Tonkin and I don’t want to hear any more, I don’t want to see them at a podium or on TV or anywhere else, I don’t want to have to look into their cold, dead eyes anymore.
I can’t provide for you no easy answers. All I know is I’m done asking how many times Democrats are going to bring a butter knife to a gun fight. I’m done asking how many times they’re going to “compromise” with pathological liars like Boehnor and McConnell and Cruz and Cantor. I’m done asking how many times we’re supposed to endure those humiliating contortions they call “working with the Republicans.” I’m done asking how much longer they’re going to let this rampage of the One-Percent go on.
I’m done with them all because the state of the union is catastrophic. THIS keeps destroying the middle class and THIS keeps being ignored by our “elected representatives” and THESE GUYS keep being shoved in our faces by the “liberal media” every fricking day of the week and the Banksters keep laughing at us and we’re all locked in the back seat of the WallStreetMobile hurtling down the Highway to Serfdom with Greed’s Greatest Hits blaring from the radio and the windshield splattered with blood.
Last night the politicians got all dressed up for that nationally televised hypocrisy contest known as the State of the Union Address. President Prettywords put on quite a show, the platitudes were all spoken, the empty promises were all made, and then everyone clapped for the troops.
William Rivers Pitt . . .
He stood that soldier up at the end, the man with the blasted head and the ruined life, with the visible dent in his skull, who will never ever be even remotely close to the same again because of the ten deployments we sent him off to so someone he’ll never meet can make a lot of money, and gave that man his reward: a standing ovation from the worst roomful of people on the skin of the Earth.
I can’t provide for you no easy answers. But I know there’s more Light the higher up you go.
Paulo Coelho . . .
If I must fall, may it be from a high place.
If we can’t turn this around, if progressives must fall, may it be from a high place. From a high place where idealism still matters, a high place where everything we have always believed in will be proclaimed and honored and defended, a high place where the truth will be told until the very end . . .
Photo by Nomadic Lass released under a Creative Commons Share Alike license.