Smartass

Conflagration across the spectrum of the equatorial regions of earth has expanded to the limits of its expansion. How long will it be before it oozes further outward? My own country's political governors seem to not be doing much toward easing this in favor of rather actively antagonizing it. And now, they've really rubbed the world's banking systems noses in some scurrilous schemes, obviously concocted to offend, hoping to exacerbate whatever it really is that they are trying to exacerbate, for whatever kind of reasoning. I often wonder to myself about how long it will be before our just deserts and karmic resolutions rebound back toward us, here, in where we are. Like that bright pink/orange A-bomb cloud in my dream, rapidly approaching me across twenty miles of Pacific Ocean in my dream. Visualizations—attempted ones—of this expanding tropical disintegration toward the inhumane, likens to that cloud from my A-bomb dream; only in stead of the high speed of the shock wave, this 'cloud' spreads more slowly—one could say almost imperceptibly. Are you familiar with the concept of irredentism? I perceive the problem as bursting at its seams, this pressure that has been a-growing—always a-growing . . . Then, of course: Come the waves-of-extermination to release the press—which then frees the way for another further expansion of the cycle to its re-run final solution. Ha! Final? My ass. I mean: The sheer idiocy of tricky business-men's warped fantasies, and so on. Who has any chance (or choice) at all against such colossal forces allayed so-counter intuitively to what is so-surely the more-desirably humane? And: How and or What—if anything—could possibly express the (long-longed-for) turning point  that might actually prove to yield one? Killing satellites is beyond my pay grade, and I am not about to go throw away my freedom protesting my insult from their actions; as well as their obvious disdain for most of mine and us peons.  I aint got no automatic weapons, tear-gas, fire-helmets, or bullet-proof vest, let alone, the amounts of discretionary income to cover the dollar-a-bullet price for the gun's ammo. Cemented-in-stone is my unwillingness to embrace the internet, or phone. So, I guess I am just up-the-crick, as 'they' say, am I not? Affirmative, comes the 'voice' of my (I suppose) conscience; prodding me to maybe just keep on considering mentally-researching and postulating options and potential alternatives . . . I don't know . . . in hopes? For what, exactly? Ah, world peace? And especially, now that I or me thinks of it: inner peace—or what sets of protocols might perhaps deliver greater amounts of it, and continue trying to avoid and otherwise attempt-to-ignore all the negative junk--seemingly forever hovering not that very far off, really,--doing its dirty work and poisoning all us peoples Earth--seemingly not even conscious of the (to me) obvious fact that they are also poisoning themselves and their children after them by what all that is toxic being dumped  all around our habitat. (Plus deforestation!) Dumb? Yes: & stupid, too. Goddammit now, I will not ever be or act that braindead—un unh. I couldn't even if I tried. It's just not in me. And I am glad as all get out that it isn't! But of course: No one likes a smartass.