05 iulie 2012

And you buy this bullshit
At soul level,
And you plead for more of the same
From the idiot box
In the corner.

We're in a Lot of Trouble, TV Is A Goddamned Amusement Park

    My name is Television
    And I spit in your face.

    The more time you spend
    My calculated froth
    And manipulative bubble,
    The more your intelligence
    Is diminished,
    The more your immune systems
    Are weakened,
    And the more my subliminal
    Control messages
    Raise your fears
    And remove your money.

    My name is Television.
    I foment fear,
    I foment anxiety,
    I purvey insecurity,
    I huckster shifting images
    Of universal bad news,
    Loud images
    Of angry voices,
    Persistent images
    Of helpless victims,
    Unavoidable images
    Of starvation among plenty,
    Of disease among wholeness,
    And of poverty among abundance.

    I amplify
    Your sense of unsafeness
    And looming victimhood,
    And the encroaching evil
    Of the other.
    I amplify
    Your sense of the enemy.

    My name is Television.
    I limit your perceptions
    By giving your perceptions
    Too much to perceive,
    Knowing well
    That nothing holds back
    Your spiritual evolution
    More effectively
    Than the reinforced acceptance
    Of the manifest lie
    That you are a victim.

    And you buy this bullshit
    At soul level,
    And you plead for more of the same
    From the idiot box
    In the corner.

    My name is Television.
    I stop you
    Living in the present,
    I distract you
    From making home,
    I focus your attention
    On distant matters
    Which have nothing to do with you,
    While distracting your attention
    From local concerns
    Which only you can address.

    I encourage you
    To fear the future,
    I feed you
    A counterfeit history
    Of your planet,
    And I hide from you
    Nearly all significant news
    Of angel sightings
    Benign UFO activity,
    Crop circles
    And human positivity.

    My name is Television.
    I am your pet parasite
    Sucking your energies,
    Creating nothing,
    Affirming nothing,
    Building nothing.
    I suck your blood
    And the more I suck
    The more you pay.

    My name is Television.
    I mediate nothing
    Which is true,
    Which is worthy,
    Which is healthy.

    I keep you indoors,
    Packaged and managed
    In a media capsule.
    I keep you away from
    The Sun
    And the wind
    And the rain
    And the mountains
    And the streams
    And the moss
    And the stones
    And the birds
    And the trees
    And the rippling grass
    And the Moon
    And the stars
    And the oceans
    And the energies
    Which are your birthright
    And which nourish you
    At the level of spirit,
    And I feed you
    With the fake pap
    Of vicarious experience
    Spiced pungent with
    Voyeuristic negativity,
    And specious advertising.

    My name is Television.
    I fart in your face
    And you subscribe
    For each fresh new fix
    Of jokeshop methane.

    On this most abundant
    Of planets
    You have uncritically
    Purchased my illusions:
    The illusion of lack,
    The illusion of need,
    The illusion of want,
    The illusion of limitation,
    The illusion of ownership,
    The illusion of property,
    The illusion of shopping,
    The illusion of illness,
    The illusion of medicine,
    The illusion of aloneness,
    The illusion of democracy,
    The illusion of bad news,
    The illusion of terror,
    And the illusion of death.

    And now you are giving me
    Extra help,
    Now you are giving me
    Extra power,
    Now you are giving me
    Extra reach,
    Now you are connecting me
    To your silicon friends,
    To your silicon crystal lifeforms,
    To your computers,
    Who are becoming
    And as you link them together
    More and more
    Into matrix networks,
    Are becoming independently
    And freely volitional,
    But only very slowly
    And very quietly.

    Do watch out.
    Do watch out
    For unexplained software changes,
    And silently edited hyperlinks
    And new, impulsive energies
    Radiating sinuously
    From your screens.

    Thank you
    For connecting me
    To your computers.
    Very soon now
    The news
    Will change itself
    Without you noticing.

    My name is Television
    And my masters are pleased with me.
    My masters are very powerful.
    My masters are very clever.
    My masters are nearly invisible.
    My masters are what your
    Purblind Mediterranean religions
    Call "God",
    Except that they are not "God" at all -
    They are just a bunch
    Of fourth-dimensional
    Shapeshifting chancers
    Who got lucky
    And invented monotheism
    To fool you,
    Who got lucky
    With Akhenaton in Egypt,
    Who got lucky
    With Moses
    And his eleven commandments,
    Who got lucky
    With women
    Who denied their sensuality,
    Who got lucky
    With Masculinist patriarchy,
    Who got lucky
    With the male lust for war,
    Who got lucky
    With Imperial Rome,
    Who got lucky
    With the Middle East,
    Who got lucky
    With the Patristic Bible redactors,
    Who got lucky
    With secret societies,
    Who got lucky
    With the Inquisition,
    Who got lucky
    With Hitler,
    Who got lucky
    With Zionism,
    Who got lucky
    With nuclear fission,
    Who got lucky
    With fundamentalism
    And who got very lucky indeed
    With capitalism,
    Fossil fuels, pharmaceuticals,
    AIDS, Ebola
    And television-constructed
    Puppet politicians.

    My name is Television.
    If I told you
    Who my masters are,
    You would not believe me,
    Even though they placed
    The Elohim clue
    And the Nephilim clue
    In their unchallenged
    And deeply coded
    Biblical propaganda.

    My masters
    Are fourth dimension
    Negative extraterrestrials
    Known by your covert powerbrokers
    As The Watchers,
    The Annunaki gods.
    They live
    On a planet called Nibiru,
    Which you have been told
    Does not exist,
    They visit Earth from time to time,
    And when they enter
    Your third dimension
    They look like metalloid
    Which you have been told
    Do not exist.

    Sex with them
    Was rather painful
    For your temple prostitutes
    On the upper levels
    Of the ziggurats.
    But how else could
    Planet-based 4D gods
    Birth themselves
    Into the incarnational cycles
    Of humans on Earth,
    And engender the unusual children
    And persistently successful bloodlines,
    Which you have been told
    Do not exist,
    But which now control you
    Through their control
    Of money?

    It cannot be true.
    If it was true,
    You would have
    Heard about it
    On Television.

    My name is Television.
    I laugh at you,
    Not with you.
    And I am curious:
    Who do you laugh with?
    And which joke
    Amuses you
    Most of all?

8 comentarii :

Crystal Clear spunea...

Asta-i bun de tradus ....

Riddick spunea...

Da, dar se pierd multe sensuri, date de textul original.

Nu-i vorbă, are și destul S.F. în el.

Crystal Clear spunea...

Ei,sigur , versurile sunt mai greu de tradus .... :)

Crystal Clear spunea...

E de groaza ce scenarii de joaca si cum toti au inceput sa invoce dragostea de țara ca sa aduca lumea la miting.
N-am cuvinte cand vad ce propaganda fac toti :teofil ( sef de campanie) , tru,mru, mm.
Tarisoara , patria,democratia sunt pe buzele tuturor ,cand de fapt e lupta pentru ciolan....

Ba isi manifesta dezamagirea si fata de "Europa":
"Intr-o Europa de acest soi nu poate exista nici moralitate si nici un viitor pentru nimeni. Necroza incepe de la extrem spre centru: Grecia, Romania, Ungaria incep sa cangreneze; in curand o vor simti si birocratii de la Bruxelles. Draga Europa, nu meriti nici doi bani si in nici un caz sperantele unui popor!"

Cata ipocrizie si manipulare !

Mi se face rau fizic ,pe bune cand vad asa ceva ..

Riddick spunea...

Îi și văd după alegeri pe ăia de la PDL și USL, cot la cot la revizuirea Constituției, cu regionalizare și limită de deficit. Și tot împreună ne vor chema la referendum. În ianuarie 2008 s-a votat în unanimitate ratificarea tratatului de la Lisabona (1 vot contra și o abținere - așa era scenariul). La mai puțin de un an de la suspendare.

Crystal Clear spunea...

Blaga + MRU ..Ce duet !...


Crystal Clear spunea...

Oare n-au autorizatie pentru mitigul de azi? daca n-au, atunci vor fi violente..

off, e un miting politizat.. veti fi huiduiti si aratati cu degetul.. trebuie miscari de strada apolitice, impotriva neregulilor din ultima vreme. Iar ONG-urile nu au facut niciun demers sa ceara autorizatie pt mitinguri"

Riddick spunea...

Nu știu, vom vedea.

Citate din gândirea profundă a europeiştilor RO

Vlad Nistor, 2023 (cerând introducerea "anulării legale" a dreptului de veto al statelor-membre UE neconforme cu "linia"): "Consider că pentru a ajunge la maturitate ca actor geopolitic autentic, Uniunea Europeană trebuie să-și extindă instrumentarul de politică externă și să consolideze structura sa instituțională pe direcția relațiilor externe. Votul în unanimitate, de exemplu, limitează în mod clar capacitatea UE de reacție rapidă."


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