Nothing political to say on Allhollows Ween? The one day that cures the Grimms fairy tale of life with the Republican touch? Read on for the curse to revile itself. A holloween Tale? Maybe! The Risk of Silence A Nation Under Siege It was to late when the true entrepreneur had come. The deeds was accomplished by unwilling servants that waned in the vistas of hierarchical impasse that shredded a nation. The risk of silence was looming just ahead of the present moment. The time that was allotted for the intentional object of value of one man to have a say. He was blank. The Republican man came that never demonetize his being, nor seen himself in the mirror. The artist sets now erupting suddenly, silently, with no more to say, no more to give, the expertise of his sight gone. Pictures and sound that will go steaming off like some train whistle that has no way to stop its forward momentum into the unknown distance. The artist lay embarked just off shore in harbors that shrink of waters that grow cloudy. The mark of his missing gratification had no exception in higher breaths for even faint praise now would make little difference. What was missing or said delayed till past his last utterance had no further sound of insightful influence. He was only man, missing the grandeur of his Fathers house. After such time, no voice could be heard that caught tone of favor that the world needed most. There will not be any further embellishment of a mans existence, all the grandiose manners are lost! The man at living life had gone unnoticed, trampled for the most part under submissions of unwarranted nobodies, that seized some power through former decoration of greed. The politicians positioned their partnership with utter discern, in order to destroy progress. The vote for his undoings was mischievousness in its nature. Finding that if controlling a thing is to destroy a thing. For he is for no other reason, voted the editor of mankind. The strangulation had made no difference in the now reluctant man that sits silenced by his own will. Then as now, no difference had been made in any knowledge hidden in his mind. The cleaver man was able to overcome any diminishable risk in the hardened appearance of open sanguine red eyes that failed to sponsor his oppression opinion. The hand shake came with unbroken stares that spoke of loudly imbedded cleverness. All was hidden within limpid pools of perishable personal strides. So it came to pass! The Republican left remarkable aesthetic prints of color and sound in the trash. Both he and the disclaimer of life joined together and dismissed the artistic brilliance and poetic writings of man, of no value. It all went unrewarded. One mans diluted mind pointing out the deceptions while the other edited mans forward motion! An over average appearance of truth that wore oversized but well-fitted dignities no longer had any voice. The lessor man yielded yesterdays shoes of brilliance that no-one could have know was possible. The shell of mankind remains the disputed wanderer in the fog of despair. All his steps replaced the grandeur with hot dog inventions in a lobster world. The old world shown in galleries without ever being recognized. Mans monument now was- that he said nothing, and is guilty for it. Alas! Now it may cast some earthly value on the hushed silent man, be it alive or no, the little struggle has been pardoned from its suckling wealth of diminished inspiration. It now lays within the inspirational slavery of crooked darkness’s that must be fault for once again, emphasizing some worth from a glaring constant memory of hard unyielding yesterdays. Writing down all he new from well hidden past needs, as some part of the very meaning of a life gone missing, unheard, screaming silently. What was this risk of silence? Some obvious exhaustion of past sweat now evaporating into the overbearing threshold of tolerance! Comfort could mirror a life to speak well of some harsh failure. If man so desired eschewing the mob herd movement of tyrants. For some it would be to bring back the dream or quality that once sang of youth in calmer days. The vote being persuaded with serious demands of confidence that swayed away from the time onerous and somewhat thrusting shades of trembling shadows before violence breaks truth from its sarcastic web woven into time. Cautious and undeniably unsane was the past, but- bearably hardhearted. Republicans cringe in corners thinking he opens into the spender of life while seeking darker diagnoses for us all. This is-the very instrument of Pandora’s Box. The earth lands or colorless, and man lives to create a silence of healthy abandonment, undisturbed. Then came the imposing humans, and so the poisonous virtuoso that breaks the back of judgment and forms the annihilation of yesterdays poetic world. The Republican editor then starves the worlds best made man of the creators choice with yielding constitutions and half compromises. One man be of milk, the other man relentless in his condemnation, and through this editors words came the destruction of what was true to the little Democrat. And the other man, the little man, silenced himself. Damn be the editors and Republicans alike! For the meek standing just off shore opens his eyes. He will inherit a plane of silents in a burning black and white world. His mouth full of ears. Written By-Dale Hicks, Professor of Heretical Forecasting
Posted on: Thu, 31 Oct 2013 18:22:50 +0000
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