Wednesday, 7 March 2012


Why do you think we reduced all the workers housing to ashes?

Like beggars at a theft we stuffed our pockets and cared not for truth or justice. Definitely not truth, only staged propped in blood.

This is us. Stare in the mirror. We cannot shed our skinless whim. We are fake and construed.

Why did UKplc troopers not get a keek at the flakturms of Berlin? Why only the rabid savages of the Red Army which Patton clearly recognised as DNA dregs given life by USofA corp. tax payers and tillers of the soil? Why did no one ever care for their children? They who were borne orphaned. Why?

Why is everything small so huge and why are the massive so miniscule?


Why is the lab rat call centre measured as GDP and the gazillions pumped into the imaginings of banksters no where to be found? Why?

If 2 quadrillions of imaginings can lead to nothing, imagine what 2 thousand dollars each could do. Or better; divine 2 quadrillions by 6 billions, got it?

How can any one of the Phukk D’Wittz that talk econobollox on the fools’ mirror not do the maths is of course an occulted mystery.

Why did Hamburg burn, why did Berlin burn?

If Tommy had seen just how well the square heads were housed he’d have been even more pissed off than he was when he clocked the indoors bogs of the Dutch. That’s why.

And then he got fed the holography of well fed stripy pajama’d Kapos to really phukk him up.

So do not expect anything real from the witches’ subtle brew blown on Flanders fields.

“In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.