Poem #229 - This poem is a reflection on the US propaganda and reality of Syria.
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Joshua Brown
As the night rages on into the anarchy of will
Remember, these tales they tell and words
They use
To command your attention, that they might
Wrap your soul into a neat little ball to deliver
Unto the tormentors
For they speak so plainly as if to say of course
But in reality, the human condition is raging
Against the kings and principalities
Who speak through channels
To tell us, by decree, "they are they and we, we
And this and such is how it worked
Because, watch this flag:
Now its gone! The magic is broken!"
All while gently leading, nudging, enchanting
Our minds and hearts to resonate with "he
Or her or they," because of course, "such is life
There is no alternative, clearly we see"
Look here among the drawn curtains where
Among the dainty men and women
Scott Adams himself warned us
That we would be hunted
But now, why would they hunt
When for us, we already died
Our weapons laid down
As if programmed by our own code
Which we wrote and committed
Into that repository of time called history
Where that king said thus and that prince not
For still among the raging villains of self
We find our identity cast out
Cast to the dung heap of history
Where memories go to die
Because we would rather grieve some shallow
Vapid brothel
So that in the ashes of this movie set
We may fashion again chains
To drag our selves and our sons into slavery
#poem #poetry #syria #palestine #civilwar #conflict #propaganda #military #fear #learnedhelplessness #rhetoric #framing #ideas #selferasure #freedom #freeassociation #autonomy
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📅 Written December 7, 2024
📍 Written at Joshua's home along the West Toll Gate Creek
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We have moved into a new world where, we, are the useful paradigm setters. Where, if someone can get through to us and feed us information, we can pass that on and instill in others a sense of fear or "this is the way it is, get used to it." We can use this power to reinforce what the violent and greedy wish, so that we may eat from the scraps that they may possibly leave for us in the wake of their destruction, OR we can reject their assumptions, flip the script on them and instead refuse to use their words to trap us into the paradigm they want us to live in.
There are no rebels, there was no army, the flag getting torn down was staged.
What really matters is who we are and what we command of the world, what matters is that we steadfastly demand the world reform to us and we do not give in to the self erasure, that well, there was a nation, and now there isn't. Because that wasn't what happened and we know that, but it is for us to find out what actually happened, because we know for sure that the vile cartel, slinging their dick around (as if winning a war that never happened is triumph) will never tell us what happened, only what they want us to think happened.
a Joshua Brown poem #229 "Hepat Crying For Her Lion"
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