Playing with Fire, or, Gambling in Exquisite Perfection
by Sub-commandante X

She never looked more beautiful than when she told me was with child again. Her second. No, still hasn’t anything to do with me. And, that’s damn lucky for all concerned.

But, the one who’s closest and the one who’s furthest are one and the same. La Divina is an ‘agent of transition’. She draws the cycles of the moon on her wall, and I can’t get close to her at all.

She makes it real clear, as the winter solstice fades it’s time to move on. Shit, you’re not gonna leave me here, just because I play the part of not demanding that you stay, so well.

That don’t mean nothing y’know. We both seen the movie and read the book. No point in doing that again.

So, why does it hurt to see you walk out the door? Funny, how getting close just draws you apart. But, if you can learn to ‘click like a mouse’, no physical presence is required at all – just communication. Give and take, sending and receiving thru space and time.

Maybe that way, we need never be over, and never be out.

Don’t panic just yet, but get ready. Grab a fiddle, ‘cause Rome’s burning. Even the make-believe restraints are gone. The foxes are in charge of the hen house.

It’s a new age all right, but it’s a new age of environmental degradation for fun and profit. No stops in sight.

Mining in National Forests – hello – is this really the human race energetically killing itself, or does it just seem that way?

But hold on, don’t lose it now. Stay cool. We been thru this before. It’s really getting close to action this time.

We gotta learn, eventually. So, I’d suggest you know where your back door is at all times. And, definitely, get your passport in order.

I understand short attention spans, but how can you just pretend that elections really don’t matter anymore. Welcome to the daylight, they never did.

This is Amerika, after all. Republican administrations come, and they go. This ain’t nothing to get upset about. You knew it was coming, well here it is…

The oil wars and the stock market crashes, the self-mutilations (otherwise known as cosmetic, optional surgery) will mysteriously, inevitably, manifest themselves on our consciousness.

The CIA front man, who took a step down to be president, got his idiot male offspring to pull off the prettiest heist of the corporate CEO office of USA, inc.

Republic my ass. Republic of fascists, maybe. The military with their industrial lap dogs are ready to make some real money now. Star wars isn’t a joke. So, don’t laugh. (And, don’t forget it.)

A nominated Labor Secretary who had hired illegal aliens to clean her house and watch her kids was stopped. But that was just the tip.

An Attorney General, who I wouldn’t let baby-sit my kids, is in. A nazi and a Neanderthal with (what’d they call it?) integrity.

I’m sure Stalin and Hitler had integrity, too. They said they’d come for you and they did.

Retired cops are on talk shows now, passing out what goes for conventional wisdom,

“Admit it. The liberals lost. Forget the radicals and fags for now. We’ll get them next. Just try on the new brown shirts. It becomes you. Don’t fight it. They’ll feed you.

”No worries. Get in line. Get in step. Now we got it. We can march from here to there, and back. Ain’t that fascinating?”

You happy yet?

Sub-X is a survivor of the radical '60s. These days he's attempting to get beyond the 'Them' and 'Us' duality of Conflict Consciousness. Trying to eliminate conflict from one's reality is a lot like dealing with alcohol. It's an on-going process. Currently, Sub-X seeks solutions and asks, "Why not more beauty, love, and joy?" We know we can do so much better. OK, so why not?