Wednesday, 1 April 2009
Am I alone in my thoughts?
As I watched and listened to the excited, sycophantic media slathering at the festival of clowns that is a Global Summit, I wondered, am I alone in my shame. I looked at no man or woman taking part in this obscene jamboree, without an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and discomfort. The mutual dance of power crazy marionettes twist and twirl in their waltz of smugness. Each pose, handshake and photo op, a reason to smirk platitudinous steps of self aggrandisement and superiority. Yet these people hold sway over our planet and our lives. Still nothing they say or do makes life better for the poor of Africa, the destitute hordes of Asia, the disadvantaged of their failure.
I shake with rage and anger at the manner in which these prancing fools play the role of alien supremos, whilst I know of the abject inadequacy and ignorance of power that is the planet of their making.
It is not of my doing, so why am I so ashamed? Why do they speak with such fervour as to their prowess in shaping an already broken world. A world of their creation, not mine.
War, famine, false hopes, deluded dreams, sell, sell, sell. These are not the things I was born to accept. This is not the greedy corruption, selfish shit I ever believed in. A limousine to feed a small country, a banquet that could make a hundred thousand people happy. A gathering of harpies so costly my grandchildren will pick up the tab. A carbon producing forum of fantastic waste that could make a planet of it's own.
If these people could feel one ounce of my despair, one jot of my shame, the world might change. It will not because these special beings do not know I exist. I am just an object, alive to feed their egotistical, soulless needs.