When they walls came tublin’ down

At the end of times, as we knew it, the days were numbered fifty score and nineteen. And if those days, by reasons of feeble strength, were added but one score more, the labours and sorrows would not have multiplied any greater. For any joy or hopes of a better tomorrow was soon cut off, while despair flew to and fro. And as was told of the devil who upon asked whence he came, answered the LORD in this way, “From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.”

The end happened in March of that year. Betwixt the first of the month and the ides of the month.  Legend of old tells us that up to the Ideas of March, was a time from which all reckoning must be had and all debts settled. Just as the winter  coming in this month, supposedly roaring in like a lion.  The harsh winter weather appeared particularly bitter and angry. The white walkers were not foreign entities from the frozen wasteland. But known entities derived of a soul. An Asilii specific to creatures of god. Creatures symbiotic to all created environment. Such alien as these worked beyond reason and rational. It is said that some men would rather watch the world burn, eschewing all decorum and care for things with intrinsic value. They found joy in watching the world burn, for they were angry. Psychopathically so. But the end coming was not as unexpected to those prepared or were preparing for years. They were many who foresaw the maleficence of the rulers. Their psychopathic intent hidden behind the rhetoric of national security, all those years, which included thousands if not millions of tiny paper cuts of withdrawal of rights and freedom. Citizen rights and freedom and the implementation of ever newer draconian laws.  The turbulence of the 1960s saw a new change in the format of what morality was. Of what reality was and continue to be. For the architects of isfet, or chaos, reason, rationality or even reality are but subjective to the ever-changing whims of entities most besotted with their own desire for immortality at any cost. Even a Pyrrhic one. They claim to seek the freedom to do what one wanted, when one wanted and however one wanted it. Freedom without restraints, convention or checks. It was indeed organized chaos. It ushered in the inevitable backlash as neo conservatism seeking relevance of puritanical fervor, fought recklessly and viciously against ultra socialists, bent on converting more of the nation to the anarchy of excess.

Not to say that the neo conservatives, themselves were without their own excess of immorality. Carnal immorality, greed, covetousness and gluttony. However the new school of liberal socialism was a toxic Sabot, inserted into the Papal currency of inquisitory vengefulness against the unfaithful or the indifferent. Designed and wholly determined to annex the imperialism of colonial capitalism and feudal monarchy, the leftist liberal was the antidote to the flagging health and diminishing mental capacity of the aborted fetus called capitalism’s past glory. After the second to last ruler was chosen, 44, it was to finalized the decades long work of undermining a nation, who obliviously thought as the British did, that the sun would favor them for a millennia. Forty-four was a hybrid of rampant imagination of the socialists construct and the capitalist fear mongering. He was a champion of the new age socialists, who’s war cry was “a bathroom to share, and dissolving of gender rules”. For in his eyes, god is to be mocked for not unmaking what she had made before, so the made men will undo what was done. Oh! Fickle the ways of mortals, to think themselves above the whims of the gods and the flow of life. The primordial soup from whence came the elevated beings called “gods”, existed in ebb and flow, long before the gods were but a thought in the mind’s eye of the all. This ebb and flow, up and down continues before time was counted and would continue there after. The lack of such adherence to the passage of the ebb, always descends into Entropy!

The festering entropy did not start, but escalated after the 44th ruler of this fortress called “The Empire” Of Excess”, was coronated Emperor in deed, if not in name. They envisioned a new Roman state, where the spectacular of bread and circus and Saturnalia, became convoluted and was elevated and extended indefinitely. Mothers went with sons, fathers with daughters, men with men and women with women in a way never imagined, much less seen since the days of Alexander of Macedonia. And every domesticated animal was invited into this macabre state as an ode to both Caligula and Nero at their most excessive.

Eyes wide shut, the ruler of the adjacent despotic state, called Canuck land, decreed that all citizens must embrace and call their outcasts by appendices of nouns, pronouns, antonyms and synonyms for whatever the outcasts and demented class felt necessary to appear relevant. Such appendices as she/he/they/them/ that/what/it/person and a myriad of quirks, tics and other forms of identification, introduced to further oppress, tax, fine, impoverished and imprison opposition to entropy’s encroachment. Men knew not if they were women, neither women thought of themselves other than men. The older thought themselves transformed into children and the children into reptile. Transspecies, trans aged and the question of how many genders it took to form a family, took precedence over whether killing an embryo was more intrinsic and relevant in topic to survival of the species. Or whether a bumble bee was relevant to the eco system. After the 44th ruler, set the stage for the end days and rode off into the sunset, content with not securing a future for even the sheeple, the final ruler was coronated. His coronation was as different between his processor and he, as it was between the coronation of a sea slug and the masque Baphomet. The 45th was not so much a presence, but more an event. A circus event of absurdity and apparent ineptitude, that forced the eyes to watch the carnage, similar to that of a 100 car pile up of intrigue and horror, all the while the rational brain deduce that to look away risked missing a momentous and stupendous happenstance. Our emotional brain wanted more distraction from the realization that we were all sliding down the tunnel into a hell of our making.

The last ruler wanted to encircle the wagons in order to prevent any barbaric forces from stealing employment, free money, free housing, state secrets and their “natural way”. He demanded an edifices of immense cost and was willing to destroy the sick, informed, the young and needy to do so. How else can one stick ones hands inside one’s pockets only to feel the hard on, of smooth edges, the length of a wall, running up against his leg each time he pranced about like a corpulent fairy dust making magician. ? The last ruler demanded above all else and ode to his magnificence and decided that any opposition required a repeat of the mantra he learned at the feet of his mentor of past days. “The sky is falling”. By running around and repeating this mantra, the last dictator further infected those susceptible to this fever. And while paralysis set in to the hearts and limbs of others already over fed on soma and the Pablum of the greatness of the land, the clock of time ticks onwards. Because time waits for no man. The government stopped working. The talking heads continued to prop up the naked emperor. And those not prepared after decades of warnings, watched impotently as the sky darkened. The shelves emptied and anarchy set in. The most affected, the aged, the informed, the children were sacrificed as useless eaters. But none as pathetic as those on the underbelly, those of the darker hue, who felt cheated of inclusion into the lands greatness, because that was what their singing and crying was told would net them. Inclusion into a burning building, where they too can expire alongside the image of the deity they embraced so lovingly.

Those ones were also useless eaters, discarded to the trash bins of irrelevance. Hunted by hunters for easy sport as there was little to no refuge of their own. They had neither land or nation to defend or live with in. The huddled together, in fear and despair. Cannibalizing each other, just as they did before the end of time. When instead of preparing for the fall, reasoned that yurugu will descend from behind the clouds to grant them all they prayed for. Those in the winter part of the land suffered, not so much the most, as they suffered the quickest. For paralysis and apathy coupled with winters of empty bellies does not care for arrested development. In the summer part of the land, the suffering continued and the genocide spread. It was long past the time to have secured the government from the looters. When the government is the looter. Weeping and wailing and gnashing of gums are the toothless sounds heard across the land. Those who could spread their brand of justice, via mob rule and gun, did so enthusiastically. And those without guns or rule, become food for the rest. The die was cast so many decades ago.  When that little man from the land of wood and water, argued tirelessly to seek a new world apart from Rome’s influence. He was shunned and betrayed. And while not nailed to a cross, his story was none the less as tragic as that of the greatest fable ever told.  Where a prophet came to the people of the land. The underbelly where the oppressed lived. And yet they rejected him and his teachings.

And as chaos spread across the land. Extending itself across several seas into other lands. People still could not see that the devil was a man. And his name is….well…let’s not call his name just yet. For he is legion and a host of many viruses that kills the spirit before the body. I mean how else could so many see and foresaw the walls crumbling,  yet stayed to watch it fall anyway, in a remarkable case of suicide by negligence? Yes! the crumbling wall was final straw. And now our watch begins. As the night of sorrows begins, it shall not end until the long death. No wife, not lands, no parent no kin. No titles and no glory, shall change the descent into darkness. In the brightest days or the blackest night, vengeance will be meted out with might. We are the lost of which there is no doubt. And fire of truth that once burned and shielded the innocent from the lies of the aliens, are but a distant memory. For clock is ticking. And time waits for no man.