River of Red and white flags. River of tyrants. River of sorrow. Don't swallow this time.
The streets are closed to cars and open to people. The Polisce are there. They are watching. And there are many cameras. And you have tickets as a gift. And you have to not bring your baby son because it is too boring for him. And you are to allot yourself 7 hours because the security pre-screen line up is so long that you will need to get there 3 hours early. And you just heard that the security has been breeched twice in two days in the newspaper. And you wonder why it isn't all burned down because now the Southern dirt social housing is just that, fences surrounding dirt. Don't go in there.
And the photos are good and the videos are good and they are all well presented online. The police are seen brutalising. The Olympic lies are all laid out. The rumours are aired. The analysis is convincing. The reality of the movement isn't hidden. The myth is busted. The images are painted in relief. There is a community online that is supportive.
----
and it is raindrops into a dark bucket. Into the abyss and a deep well. No light escapes the video is shown again and again to the already converted and the truth stays with only those who already knew it. Might as well be alone on those streets. Might as well do it alone in the middle of the night in a ghost town. Might as well empty your pockets and break the glass in the recycle bin. Might as well tell your boss you want to be arrested for drawing cartoons of treason. Might as well get into the meat locker and think of all the Hollywood movies about heros that you know to be heroic and true to the story that is told to every little bedchild at nightengale for the rest of our dying year. I am left to pick up the little hints the little symbols of your devotion.
And I feel your fist, and I know it's out of love. Burning holes straight through my eyes heart attacked - the memories of your devotion. I collect upon my body the memories of your devotion. Give'n me a little fistful of love.
And I have an Olympic Movement in my special little room after eating so many beans. The stink reaches the ears of the deaf commisars of your buying habits and empties out the coffers. We can build a new nuclear age to remember the armegeddon for the rest of our natural livelihood good G*d save the economy. Bless you.
he was the mother of america. bigfatheart in your man. grow up to be a woman. Because the baby controlling business is the way to mention the rapture. I torn to walk the pain.
