Last refuge of the scoundrel
First refuge of the fool
(So you fools are refugees-
DEPORT! EXPEL!)
Excuses everything
Is an excuse for anything
...But won't excuse your stupidity.
Patriotism is bigotry.
Always has been, always will be.
The only way to sear blind faith
Into tired, vacant, sheepish eyes
Is to define an other
To look down on
Spit down on
Kick down on
Load down on
And pin all blame on
When it all goes wrong.
There is not, and never was
Any unity. This may anger you.
And so you scream "DIVISION!"
- Of some thing that was never whole?
When were the parts ever summed, much less moored?
The numbers are neither here nor there.
The math doesn't work.
This end is up.
The pieces won't come together.
E pluribus, pluribus.
Fragility remains upended.
Feeble and febrile,
Nationalism stumbles, withers, dies
And lies
As all empty ideologies do.
Tell me please,
What IS the "eternal glory"
Of a few barely-understood artifacts
Mouldering in a museum?
The patrons surely can't see it.
Not with all that hastily-penned propaganda
To capture their watery eyes.
Surrounded by grey and beige walls,
Too high to scale, they observe only
Red - anger at every perceived fail
(Notably those that are true);
White - a dream of a sterile world,
Where only the pale and loaded matter;
And Blue - fading shadows of an age's past fall
Drawn with crumbling charcoal upon the savage Earth
The better to demarcate scraps of turf
To proclaim pissing contests over.
Always pathetic
Glorious the first time (by decree)
Laughable the next...
Until you die in a killing spree.
That makes it personal
To an immersible degree.
When the war is over (briefly)
Stride from your bomb shelter
(Courtesy of the welfare state!)
Plant your rag in the twisted wreckage
Declare the stinking leachate a sacred pool
Drop to your knees and embrace all that is cruel
Enjoining sundry to get their hands dirty-
For what's the use of boundaries,
When all the world's a junkyard?
Landfill: The great leveler.
With everything and everyone disposed of
The slate has been wiped clean...
Enough, to reflect the mountain of rubbish
That sooner or later will topple -
But at least you'll die surrounded by what you love(d)!
Standing beyond and above,
There will be a world
Where all flags are burned
As funeral shrouds,
Wrapped 'round the wasted bodies
Of goose-stepping zombies
Who assailed the globe
Like an overbaked pie, blunting further
Drawn weapons as dull
As their overstretched
Overworked, underfed minds.
Fasces to ashes
"You MUST!" to dust.
Blowing in the dry wind
Past poles standing empty
In mute testament
To pointless vainglory.