Democracy’s twerking corridors of power (2)…

[NOTE: Please click "Like" only AFTER reading!]

image

As I was writing this essay, “We the people…” came to my searching mind. Looking it up where available, I understood history’s tireless farce in producing written proofs of power’s insatiable appetite for justifying its own mischievous ends, when at the end of the above, after a peacock’s tail of grand tales, a handful of “representative of the people’s” people signed, turning the afore mentioned into the mockery document of a mockery democracy. You see true democracies shouldn’t need declarations and constitutions if they wouldn’t plan to harvest beyond their own orchards’ boundaries. No one outside pathological taxonomies needs fear of their own selves…
I have a personal history of turning my friends into my enemy’s friends by daring to become a critic of what’s unjust, regardless of family relationships, religion, gender, political and/or sexual orientation.
But you see, truth does hurt, both forth and backwards, with bestowed isolation as a never requested side dish.
I started my unplanned career in Ceausescu’s “scientific, dialectic and historic socialism” where Orwell’s “1984” seem to have been the catehetical blueprint of a system boasting socio-economic achievements equaled only by, and in an utopia yet to be built by the Carpathian “genius” himself, thus being told to leave a political school for believing aloud that their Marxist-Leninist system is good, just “we the people” aren’t good enough to carrying it out…
My best friends turned to be my worst betrayers before West’s coveted freedom proved to be less of what I have hoped of liberty…
Just another wandering Jew I discovered myself to be, turned back from the doorsteps of my Land of Tikva by kin asking for proof of my origins the old Nazis burnt together with my past as they were leaving Northern Transylvania…
And wandering I’ve been sent by kin holier than the young Hungarian Rabbi who ushered us back into the hope harder to kill than the sense of unwantedness becoming more and more of an eerie companion…
Wanderer seeking a place I can call “my own”, where I don’t have to smell the stinking boots of anyone’s “freedom” stamping on my face.
I’ve been to room 101, and I know the source of “democracy’s” never fading light. There were no rats in cages over my face, just drawers of “anonymous”  reports from my “friends”, gnawing at my bleeding hart and pissed trousers…

I dread of the day when “We the people…” shall turn into “Weep thee people…”, with no one to bring anymore stones upon our graves, for all the stones have been thrown at the collective stoning of our own souls…
Some time ago, democracy issued a statement of intent, announcing its borderlessness, turning the world into its soon-to-become the political-correctness conform, though empty playground, where only the unplanned children’s ghosts of the -numerically- great People’s Democracy shall remain to play the sordid games of these new, shapeshifting Nazis…

Oh, Democracy, you twerking bitch rubbing your black holes against anything in between full pockets…

Beware ye all erecting your reachings against her so much desired end; should your interests miss the incubation vaults, instead of toys and dolls, you’ll be crying for toilet rolls…

11 responses to “Democracy’s twerking corridors of power (2)…

  1. Hmm…. Democracy itself isn’t the problem. People are. When reading both parts of the essay, one of the thoughts that came to mind was the main reason laws are made is because people don’t follow the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Just laws are made for those who can’t seem to rule themselves by caring for others and community property. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that unjust laws are made by tyrants, who also care more about themselves and their own selfish desires, than about the people they are supposed to serve. Democracy isn’t the problem, and although I myself prefer a democratic republic over socialism or communism, they aren’t the problem either. People are.

    P.S. I miss your face.

    • I did write a lengthy reply to your first comment, which unfortunately got lost from my app the moment I touched a wrong area of my screen:-(, but the second part sums it up fairly… I agree with your part about people, BUT, please tell, if all of us would mind our business within our own backyards, on our own lands, not amassed like dying herrings in crime ridden towns and cities, would we need big bullies to keep away the petty bullies, or everyone would exercise their fundamental right to defend their own selves as it’s always been until people conferred their individual rights for a grater good which became an even bigger good, which ultimately became the big good brother called “state”, slowly losing the “good”, leaving us with a “big…” only… Individuals did live happy individual, family lives, in connection to other individuals according to taste and choice, until states forced them into tax churning slaves… I lived as a child in Northern Transylvania, and visited magnificent mountain villages where your closest neighbour was on the other hill top, where people sat on their own porches, drank the milk of their own cows and goats, ate the bacon of their own pigs, the fruit of their own orchards, rubbing corn from their own fields, pickling veggies from their own gardens, smoking their own tobacco watching the rain… They didn’t need fancy roads, they still walked and each had a small horse wagon, they didn’t need schools, they taught their children enough to count their belongings, and tell stories about life in long winters at the fire… You know, they have built many of their wells half in, half out of their properties, and kept a clean cup on the rim, for anyone thirsty… We call that bucolic, they just called it life, true life… Then theocracies came, and monarchies, and dictatorships and democracies all asking for tithes and taxes to “protect” us… Of themselves if don’t obey… Italians got a word for that: mafia… I am so sorry I can’t write of anything better. I’ve seen, felt and suffered too much to remain silent… Writing it’s what they haven’t taken away, yet… Unfortunately I can’t play guitar as well anymore, as zealous policemen decided to beat my palms black simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time in my early twenties, with muscle scars which never healed properly… As I said I know room 101 from the inside… Thank you for taking time to read my stories…, even though I wish they would be stories, only…

  2. This sounded like a polemic against the war cries I am hearing about Syria.

  3. Interesting that you should mention villages where people raised and grew their own food and taught their own children. A movement to go back to those things is growing here in the U.S. because of big government and big businesses who care more about themselves than their neighbors. I myself have a small garden and homeschooled our children. I’m sure even though the neighbors in those villages lived far apart and subsisted on their own properties, if anyone came to be in need, neighbors pitched in to help each other, which is as it should be.

    I don’t mind paying taxes to help pay for things that benefit the community like having equipment for our volunteer fire department, but I do not like the way our tax system is set up, mishandled and abused. I don’t mind giving tithes and offerings for the benefit of helping those in need, but I don’t like when they are mismanaged and more is spent on paying salaries and building maintenance than on contributing to the needs of the poor and those facing a crisis.

    It all comes back down to us— the people— what we do to each other and what we allow. I am so sorry for the abuses you’ve not only witnessed, but for those you have endured as well. :'(

    • I’m afraid it might be too late to go back anywhere…
      The ones drunk of power won’t let the free goodies go.
      Not for free…
      It might be late, too late, and there’s not much one could do.
      Thank you again for your kind words:-D

  4. The ones drunk with power… they are the problem with democracy, hence we are the problem because we put them there.

    AV

  5. Yes it is too late to turn back. So we stumble along in our imperfect world toward a future of…
    I am dreamer enough to hold a kernel of optimism deep enough so the shepherd and his dogs cannot shear it.
    I am realist enough to know the difference between a dream of possibilities and the nightmare of likelihoods.
    I live with this contradiction – so I write poetry, sing songs of protest and drink plenty of wine with my friends…Skoal!

    • Wine, my friend you’ve lost me here… I come from a land of quality wines, Transylvania, yet can’t say am fond of any… But whiskey and soda on ice, my heavens…;-) Oh and my pipe… Still have to decide what am I writing…

Please Leave a Reply 👣

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s