Somewhere On The Record
As so many of us usually are...
I'm somewhere in the area of I have nothing to say and shut the hell up, I really don't want to hear it. I certainly don't want to say it, the world has enough parrots already in its synchronized squawking. I'm somewhere on the record admitting that I can't stand the thought of it. The constant noisiness lying for trafficking, blabbing and droning with their own vocalized vomit that shouldn't be said in the first place let alone repeated. Unless of course its from their originator of the racket. Let the responsibility be theirs alone. Let the consequence belong only to them. Not the unsuspecting public by which it uses. Polluting society with a barrage of needless circumstance, erasing carbon, cleaning the air then why all the noise, why such pollution, what safety is there if not in the silence?
Where are the voices of the individual and their decisions? Their choices, their opportunities, their rewards for their efforts, the answers swallowed up by negligent abuse, cyber or otherwise and mistreatment overthrowing reality as it plays in loops endlessly, punctuation gunshots, fake warnings, fraud, injustice, the bombings of innocence in the day to day fundamental establishments of society never really disclosed, never truthfully discussed, never acknowledged as accurate, blamed on psychosis or an impairment of an individual, depression not oppression, because of course its entertaining to those in control perpetrating young minds with despots and tyrants in undisclosed locations. Oh the criminality so beautifully buried in the bureaucracy of freedom's allure.
Are our voices real, what sound do they make, is this free speech, to say what we want, to question and inquire, to explore and expound,or the hand of domination held across our mouth, encouraging us to sing along to the sirens songs which were once a foreboding for those adventurous souls adrift in waters of carefully charted courses minding their own desires and business until, as one might imagine, were led astray by something alluring while others were simply torn from their path. Capsized and left on the shallow shoals of what was once their best efforts. Now sitting, chronicling their own warnings of the nuisance of noises and voices so out of alignment with their own, the unseen hand clasped tightly over their mouth while disembodied voices that never listen or care for the havoc they've invoked, carry saturation on the unseen waves of the atmosphere known by few, unacknowledged for private use, admittedly so in the ruling bodies of the world for the gods and goddesses to survive their own humanity so as to only insist, only connive their integration among society leading the choirs, hosting events, preordaining lives for their profits and pronunciation of headlines for future occurrences, disposing of freedom, disposing of opportunity, disposing of genuine intelligence for the already status quo held in power by those who are only willing to deceive in order to shun their own humanity. Blaming the will of the people for their need to control.
And if someone were to bite this hand so held over the voices of the people, what then? The world may never know.
