Pensive Peyote #13
Makeshift patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself at half mast.
It's the makeshift,
the patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself for your live telecast...
The signs. The banners. The people. The anger.
It was everywhere. Thousands of people, individuals...all living in fear. Fear of a system that has grown out of control. Fear of a never-ending war. Fear of recognizing one simple fact: we were duped.
Use civilians against civilians and charge the trojan horse into our buildings.
Using commercial aviation as instruments of destruction.
And there's the news media...catching 1000 images/second on their high-tech digital cameras. Catching all of our faces to be immortalized in either fame or infamy. It's too early to tell which it will be. For months those same reporters regurgitated the same 30 second soundbites:
"Saddam has weapons of mass destruction."
"A link exists between Saddam Hussein and Al Qaeda."
"WMD's."
"Terrorism."
Bullshit. We know who attacked us a year and a half ago. We know where that group originated. It's not this. And now we are the news of the moment...we are the mostly reviled, lightly appreciated, group of millions standing up for what we know is true. This isn't right.
Who's going to make that call, to increase an unknown deathtoll?
It's the one we rally behind.
He's got a megaphone, promising to make heads roll.
We'd cheer him on, but asbestos is affecting our breath control.
The less we know, the more they fabricate,
the easier it is to sell souls.
I remember that day clearly. I remember the aftermath. I remember the anger...not just mine, but everyone's. No one would admit to it, but everything was thinking the same thing: "take those motherfuckers out." It didn't take long for our government to invade Afghanistan. Even while reeling from the shock and anger, we went about our daily lives as bombs fell in Kabul. We could prevent our own paralysis through the knowledge that the attack was being answered. The images of people falling hundreds of stories could be pushed to the back of our minds as long as something was being done. Bullets and bombs would articulate what we couldn't: "don't mess with us." As time went on, more soundbites came across:
"The USA Patriot Act, passed today, will help us find terrorists hiding here."
"The Transportation Security Administration will now conduct random security screenings of passengers. Please be patient."
"The War on Terror."
"Wiretapping."
"Terrorists."
Some of us were beginning to realize it, though no one wanted to say it out loud for fear that it might come true: something very wrong is happening. This is not what we envisioned. We're losing control, and we can't stop it.
There is a new price on freedom, so buy into it while supplies last,
changes need to be made,
no more curbside baggage,
seven pm curfew,
racial profiling will continue with less bitching.
We're unified over who to kill, so until I find more relevant scripture to quote,
remember, our god is bigger, stronger, smarter, and much wealthier.
So wave those flags with pride, especially the white part.
No more. It's time. This sign is mine to carry, and carry it I will. It's cold, but February mornings in the city generally are. Rumors have been circulating that other demonstrations in Europe have been interrupted by clashes with the police. Oh well. I'm not going to stand by and do nothing. A year and a half of that has produced exactly what we're now protesting against. It can't go on.
It's the makeshift,
the patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself.
Don't waive your rights with your flag.
**********************
Note: lyrics are from "Makeshift Patriot" by Sage Francis.
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself at half mast.
It's the makeshift,
the patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself for your live telecast...
The signs. The banners. The people. The anger.
It was everywhere. Thousands of people, individuals...all living in fear. Fear of a system that has grown out of control. Fear of a never-ending war. Fear of recognizing one simple fact: we were duped.
Use civilians against civilians and charge the trojan horse into our buildings.
Using commercial aviation as instruments of destruction.
And there's the news media...catching 1000 images/second on their high-tech digital cameras. Catching all of our faces to be immortalized in either fame or infamy. It's too early to tell which it will be. For months those same reporters regurgitated the same 30 second soundbites:
"Saddam has weapons of mass destruction."
"A link exists between Saddam Hussein and Al Qaeda."
"WMD's."
"Terrorism."
Bullshit. We know who attacked us a year and a half ago. We know where that group originated. It's not this. And now we are the news of the moment...we are the mostly reviled, lightly appreciated, group of millions standing up for what we know is true. This isn't right.
Who's going to make that call, to increase an unknown deathtoll?
It's the one we rally behind.
He's got a megaphone, promising to make heads roll.
We'd cheer him on, but asbestos is affecting our breath control.
The less we know, the more they fabricate,
the easier it is to sell souls.
I remember that day clearly. I remember the aftermath. I remember the anger...not just mine, but everyone's. No one would admit to it, but everything was thinking the same thing: "take those motherfuckers out." It didn't take long for our government to invade Afghanistan. Even while reeling from the shock and anger, we went about our daily lives as bombs fell in Kabul. We could prevent our own paralysis through the knowledge that the attack was being answered. The images of people falling hundreds of stories could be pushed to the back of our minds as long as something was being done. Bullets and bombs would articulate what we couldn't: "don't mess with us." As time went on, more soundbites came across:
"The USA Patriot Act, passed today, will help us find terrorists hiding here."
"The Transportation Security Administration will now conduct random security screenings of passengers. Please be patient."
"The War on Terror."
"Wiretapping."
"Terrorists."
Some of us were beginning to realize it, though no one wanted to say it out loud for fear that it might come true: something very wrong is happening. This is not what we envisioned. We're losing control, and we can't stop it.
There is a new price on freedom, so buy into it while supplies last,
changes need to be made,
no more curbside baggage,
seven pm curfew,
racial profiling will continue with less bitching.
We're unified over who to kill, so until I find more relevant scripture to quote,
remember, our god is bigger, stronger, smarter, and much wealthier.
So wave those flags with pride, especially the white part.
No more. It's time. This sign is mine to carry, and carry it I will. It's cold, but February mornings in the city generally are. Rumors have been circulating that other demonstrations in Europe have been interrupted by clashes with the police. Oh well. I'm not going to stand by and do nothing. A year and a half of that has produced exactly what we're now protesting against. It can't go on.
It's the makeshift,
the patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself.
Don't waive your rights with your flag.
**********************
Note: lyrics are from "Makeshift Patriot" by Sage Francis.
posted by Pensive Peyote at 2:34 PM
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