Skip to main content

NOW... THE PUPPET STRINGS




Donald Trump is a puppet. Money and might are the strings. Listen closely to the media's "curiosity", notice "their questions" leading, quite literally, to "his answers". Heed his overly prideful bluster, sense his anxiousness, his narcissistic fervor for war and the building of walls.

Now, forget "who" "Trump is and focus on the virulent intentions of the strings that hold him up, that bend his limbs and vibrate his thoughts into their bidding.

Now, do this for each and every candidate, any and all of them, for they are to be no different than "Trump" according to the strings that dangle them before us in an awkward dance meant to entertain us, numb us to the "truth".

Now, find the "strings" and snip their tether, then watch as the marionette's collapse into an indistinguishable heap of talking heads. Take notice then which two brands the freshly snipped strings attempt to lift up as "hero" , then snip the strings again, leaving just enough so that the puppet masters are forced to reveal themselves. If none are found, or none are revealed, then the enslaved puppets AND the unwitting puppet masters are one in the same.

If it is the latter, change. If it is the former, change.

No more strings, then our great change will be actual freedom... Now.

Love and Peace 💚✌️


© 2015 Mark Richard Prime

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman