The Few saw The People rise to this flame of hope. They threw fire engines, metaphoric tear gas, lies and bullshit, all they had at their disposal. To allow this flower to blossom and flourish would have been the signing of their death warrant. Propaganda of the worst kind, energised on steroids, was brought to bear.
The Many rallied to a voice echoing their deepest feelings, their greatest dreams of a new tomorrow where empathy, honesty, truth, loving kindness and all the best human values would be respected and more importantly, rewarded.
The Beast of the Hard Right, the Establishment, those hidden hands running the machine were having none of it. They saw red. Every manipulation, connivance and trick in the Machiavellian book was brought to bear. Normally the scales of sway from left to right are handled, controlled and served up as choice, while all the time under their guiding hand. However what faced them was a spark so incendiary as to ignite a powder keg of change so radical, giving the people the loudest voice.
An idiot buffoon paraded, parodied and planted full front stage. Strutting his buffoonery, lies and mendacity he and his cohorts laughed at what became a greater, more gullible public. Most people never drift far from the market square stocks and public hanging mentality. The media, through television and press followed strict instructions to vilify like there was no tomorrow. The idiot savant was proclaimed a saviour. The enemy from within, the Marxist, communist, terrorist loving traitor portrayed and blasted through every orifice, from every portal of controlled broadcast. So loud the programming, the still small voice of sanity and hope was forcible drowned out and made the evil of the hour.
Such separation from sanity, freedom and the return of ownership by the people for the people needed force feeding as solution. It came in the form of a crafted stitch up – a referendum offering leave or stay in a system of unelected, disparately divisive globalist neo-liberalist governance. Like ravenous wolves the public did what it does best when called on, through Pavlovian platitudes – it danced the well rehearsed frenetic tango of divisive hatred, vilification and blame of others. It drank the vacuous rewards offered as absolute. Damn it, the people had danced that dance, fed the steps for centuries. Little England, nationalism of a United kingdom, the rights of all against a hegemony so un-British. Churchill’s ghost raised from the dead, dangled as once again winning the day, the war and the freedom it so predictably had offered previously. Yet its chimera merely became the soulless solution painted as reality by the psychopathic power hungry.
The chords of nationalism strummed a tireless anthem of Them against Us. Of course it worked, history taught by the victors always worked. It never has been the game of truth.
Brilliant manipulation that would have made Herr Goebbels swell with pride took front and centre behind the curtain. Media controlled and fed each daily script, belched out conditioning turning ill prepared into performing monkeys at the ballot box.
Like so many parts of the Western hegemonic world, truth was slaughtered in plain sight in every market square. A public, whose weariness of reality drove them deeper into the virtual world, where augmented reality showered them with holographic meadows of fruitfulness and heavenly uplands. Gagging for more toys, as truth was forcibly ejected from the pram, lies and deception were accepted and drunk down as the toxic elixir it was. The deceived, unwitting to their self deception, Twitted out, retweeting bile that led to the public crucifixion of truth. Insanity, becomes an insidious fungus, pervasive and well established into the very fabric of the people.
Anti Sanitism raged like Nature’s bushfires around the world, starving humans of the life giving oxygen of critical thought and the breath of freedom. The mighty fist, unseen by so deaf and deluded, prepared itself to be brought down with a vengeance on the unsuspecting many.
A festive Christian-based season is birthing an anti Christ that even the Church supports through its impious collusion. The poor, far from being able to inherit the earth are being buried in it, dying of starvation, deprivation and disregard. The sick, falling from trolleys too overloaded to take the strain find even less comfort on the floors and passageways of a broken, about to be auctioned National Health Service. The meek and benefited are silenced as unfit for purpose. The season of joy parodied within the halls of the millionaires and billionaires is decked with such extravagance only Fortnums and Harrods can supply. Real world suffering another world away, too toxic to engage with.
The pound shops are broke, food banks burst with deposits from those caring enough to assuage their generosity yet not aware enough to vote them into history. Streets littered with the homeless soon filled with snow and ice, culling yet more thousands of the uncared for. Press and television news will portray this as unfortunate, yet promote far better times ahead we are extricated from the talons of the EU.
A bloated Parliament of self interest, professing care and unity for all, will milk a system so loaded in their favour, to make sure their tables are filled to plenty. Platitudes, like Christmas cracker jokes, will be offered as encouragement, even though teeth grindingly vacuous in the season of so called goodwill to all.
The small, much reduced voice of sanity, truth and reason continues to be vilified, with its remnants roasted on the spits of hollow harvest. Its charred remains scattered over a New Year in public view, by those barely recognising the dawn of 2020 they so vociferously voted in.
The British love their long festive holiday season, even though bought at the expense of even larger, more extended credit. Avaricious bailiffs, zombie debt collectors and Banksters all wait in the wings, for a fruitful terrorism to transpire into plunder.
The Establishment and self obsessed, quaffing gallons of bubbly, will raise their glasses to another campaign in the ever winning war on the enslaved and mentally putrid. Next stop is serious culling of the unwashed and unwanted, while kidding them to believe the illusion their captors are their saviours and it’s all the fault of climate change
Truth’s spark, never able to be snuffed out, flickers like a far off beacon awaiting, as always, the bellows of desire to rekindle its place as gatekeeper of exposure, revelation and obliteration of deceit.
Jonathan L Trapman is an author, creative writer and photojournalist who has spent the better part of his 45 odd years in public life, learning from his personal experiences, sharing them, listening to others, whose lives have allowed him to open his own mind to a beauty, even within horror, that is transforming and empowering. His written work endeavors to convey, through true tales and fiction, impressions thus garnered. Dreams and Realities can be purchased (signed by the author if wanted) here.