A Lament Of The Tragedy Of Our Times

By Lasantha Pethiyagoda –

The unelected presidency of an always defeated politician is a story of rumbling empty bellies and starving hearts. The propaganda machine in full flow with a feast of misinformation and a famine of truth. The media, always aligned to one sponsor or another hardly reveals the truth but become conveyor belts churning out processed garbage, conformity-enforcing mouthpieces and demonstrate a power-serving culture. There is barely enough food to stay alive but not enough sustenance to live a naturally healthy life with basic nutrition.

The parasitic political class keeps us alive but they don’t let us live. They give us enough controversy and drama to turn the gears of political expediency, and they keep us too busy, poor, propagandized, confused and crazy to actually drink from the waters of life. To actually experience the beauty of this wonderful paradise we will always call home. To let the crackling potentiality of advanced terrestrial life blossom to fruition within us in a land blessed with year-round sunshine, adequate rainfall, pleasant weather and a bountiful soil.

This modern autocratic tyranny rules us by filling our markets with basic food items that are infinitely too expensive to exchange for the meagre worthless paper that is still called our currency. The future of our children and their children is doomed and our schools are closed by a catastrophic shortage of transport fuel.

We merely exist another day by filling our bellies with whatever is available as food, with no regard for balance, diet or health and starving our souls of the freedom from oppression we desire so desperately. By churning out mountains of useless landfill garbage without ever producing anything of real value. By making more empty promises and stating the obvious while providing less and never delivering on anything.

The parasites enable food production and facilitate barely available medicine just enough to lengthen our lifespans, only so that they have more life to drain us of for their own perverse sustenance. They let us populate the land with more humans only to drain us of our humanity in the process.

We’re not people to these blood-sucking vermin. We are like battery chicken, kept alive for later slaughter. We are the fuel for their engines of rapacious pillaging.

This land can no longer boast of a proud civilization. It’s a slaughterhouse, where the ailing are allowed to die, the children are allowed to starve and are deprived of an education. A fake plastic performance staged to funnel human life into the gears of an insatiable machine of a ruling class greed that knows no bounds. A fake plastic culture designed to keep us on the conveyor belt so that our life force can be converted into fuel for a soulless fiefdom of our own making. A fake plastic society built to keep us marching into the crematorium in a steady stream.

There are so very many more of us than there are of them. We could crush them like an insect the moment we decided to. But the brainwashing is so very, very effective, and the matrix hallucination seems so very, very real. Our propaganda-induced coma keeps us like a horde of Wildebeest in a southern African savannah fleeing from the marauding carnivores, dressed in pure white, fat bellies bulging and wide smirks of contempt.

Not until we awaken ourselves from the coma will our adventure of prosperity in this land really begin. Not until we can unplug our minds from the ruthless tyrants’ life-siphoning control mechanisms can we begin to really live.

We’ll either wake each other up, as our desperate and intelligent youth urged us to, or we’ll remain trapped in the slaughterhouse, waiting for the inevitable in a landscape of despair, yet so alluring in its natural beauty that is not surpassed elsewhere, the tropical paradise of our folklore and legends, a thrice blessed land like no other.

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