Olive green. propaganda red. This is a confrontation. Authority, government, strength and ammunition are wrapped up in a bolted steel membrane. Its waiting waiting to ejaculate its every ounce of power upon me. Walk. Stop. See the tanks come. See the tanks roll forward like dark thunder clouds. I feel the pain in the bolted steel of the olive green monsters. I feel the pain in the rumbling asphalt. I feel the pain in the monuments and the stone white columns holding them upon their back. I feel pain in the polluted haze that hovers above this city. I feel pain in the street lamps that line the avenues that silently stand on every corner witnessing every injustice. Cotton White. Wool black. This is not America.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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