An Insane Moment in an Insane World It’s an insane world that supports insane ideas. Actually -its profanity. Take a moment from this day, this day as in this morning just a few hours before I sit here to write to you.
There is a street near here in a town near here. On that street today were lots of people asking for support for the armed forces. These are the same forces that yes do good things but are also trained to kill, invade and support at times false initiatives throughout the world. Death on demand is a hot commodity right now. Interesting to see those same people asking for support to be surrounded by people opening their purses and handing over cash with a smile. In return the child is given a small British flag to wave frantically from their small buggy or small child’s hands. The parents get a badge a smile and a pat on the back or handshake to be closed with the words, “thank you for supporting your troops”. These collectors are stationed all the way up and down the long street.
Meanwhile just feet away from the war machines promoters there sits a small dark, ragged looking man. You can see his face, you can’t see her face so when I say a man I mean a human being. I can see this bundle from maybe 400 yards away as we walk towards him. Not one, not two, not three or not anyone looks at him and actually those that do stay wide from him as if he is projected some kind of bubonic virus that may attach itself to the passer-by. The closer we get I see some people look at the hunched and frozen looking man with disgust, disdain and outright rejection. One man says, “ he looks like an immigrant, bloody immigrant on our streets chasing our jobs” Dam fool you man with the mouth that spills out words of the insane and profane.
Finally, we walk past the bundle on the cold and wet street. His ahead faces the floor, his hair and face are covered by a blanket that looks like it’s really not doing its job that well. I can see his hand, his dirty filthy finger nails and skin as thin as paper as his dark blue veins run along the surface of his hands like small tubes waiting to freeze and burst like water pipes on a freezing cold night. He smells, he’s dirty, he’s lost, he’s lonely and broken to the ground like a pathetic wild dog dying for its last meal. Yet as the crowds feed the war machine they look at this filthy package with utter disgust. It appears the masses question nothing.
Why do we give to the war machine?
Do we know and see what war does to humanity?
Are we happy that our cash support kills, annihilates and devours whole communities?
Or do they not think because they don’t see it, they don’t live it they don’t feel the fear of the blood of humanity as it is bombed by unmanned drones, stealth war planes and highly trained soldiers that only question what is behind a war once they are in the war itself?
Yet what about this boy that looks like an old man who lives on the streets of Britain and has come here sometime, somehow from the bombed and carnage covered streets of Baghdad. Yes Baghdad is his place of origin. Just a few words to the boy revealed a story that most living in Britain wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care to understand. I spoke to the boy. His city has been destroyed by invading armies that were invading to save him from invaders.
I asked him who are the invaders?
“They are the invaders but they tell their own people that they are invading us to stop others from invading us. During the invasion my grandparents were blown to pieces. During the invasion my mother and then my father and then my three sisters and only brother were all killed just like most people I knew and most people I know. Dead, killed and vaporized by war.”
“How did you get into the UK then?”
“I was offered a place to live here and it felt better as I would be living with kind people that would support me until the time comes I could be successful and go back to Iraq and support the rebuild of my country. What did your family do in Iraq? I am from a family of teachers and Doctors. I also would love to be the Doctor I started to become whilst living in Iraq but I am not sure that is now possible.”
I asked him where he lives now. His reply was… I live wherever I am sitting so right now – I live here outside this shop on this street. I wanted to cry but I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I had already bought him some food and drink so gave it to him and wished him well.
He appeared to be thankful maybe more for a conversation rather than the food which clearly he needed. I walked away with a lump in my throat asking many questions.
This man was the child of a mother. He is a human being like you and me. His family is gone, dead and killed by soldiers that are not sure why they are in another country.
People on the street are happy to give cash to weaponry and support war yet they reject the very humanity that sits in sorrow beneath their feet as they walk down the street. This filthy rag and bone is a human being. Yet humanity rejects its own substance and destroys it with the support of others. The real question here is does anyone actually question anything anymore or are they simply part of something that is now so out of control they are now dumbed, blinded and silenced into response that says more about the silent controls than the mind of the people. The feeds are what they are – we are all what we feed ourselves mentally. For example the British press and media send out information daily that our nation is being invaded from every point of entry by immigrants trying to join the lines for free anything yet the reality is far from different to the feeds. Britain is a nation of immigrants.
My own parents came from Scotland and France to live in England. Their parents and parents back many generations came from Norse countries, Roman invaders and Germanic roots.
America was built on the back of immigration.
The Irish (How I love the Irish), the Italians and just about any other flavour of humanity mixed into the pot.
While in San Francisco some time ago I spent a whole day in a place that literally felt like China.
There are no countries immune from the people of other races. Yet the media feeds feed us constantly that people of other race are bad (by default). So when British see a olive skinned middle-eastern looking man with black hair begging on the street the media has fed those that question nothing to associate that image with bad and bad should be eliminated. Sad of course and of course also not accurate to say everyone is like this because they are not. It’s easy to see the bad in humanity but its good to always remember that there is a lot of good in humanity. The war and bombs and carnage – that is Zoomanity at its absolute worst.
Where is it going, what is it achieving apart from death, destruction and blood soaked soils?
It’s INSANITY to see that as acceptable isn’t it?
It’s PROFANITY to treat a human being like this isn’t it? I got back to my car and couldn’t stop thinking about the young man. It’s Insanity, it’s profanity it’s the mass mind control of Zoomanity that has removed questioning and replaced it with thoughts of nothing in particular.
Alan Forrest Smith