Started August 25th. 1993.
THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF THE WORLD: BY BEN DUNK.
Roaming the exposed-world intertwined around the permanent-way of slow-voiced-news, we-see-hear and read the cries and screams of anguish from the imprisoned and shackled-victims in-it.
Fortuitous-rich and free who imagine in the mental-state of innuendo to tell of having fun, whilst peons lie on bloodied-stone and slither-in-vomit.
Outside and inside the mini-cell-box, the heinous-unstable-able-fiend lifts-nails-high to secure the delicate-female-arms in the contra-locking-pain-stretching-sinews to toenails-on-tiptoe, as the belly-baby goes-on-living she-stands-for-days in urine and shit.
The cigarette-burns and milli-amps of a governments’-interrogation leave dark-purple-red-scars, where the electric-heat touched and locked-on-skin and another twist of genitalia where the burns-are-worst to distort the most-strong and perfect of mind’s-whit.
The sun and moon shine-down through the grating over the six-by-six-feet-room cut-in-the-rock four-hundred-years’-ago and lucky are the few-days-of-the-years, when it rains and washes-away the gathered excrement of the grateful-confined-prisoner of this cess-pit.
What an high-spirited-young-lad does with his fast new-car is impossible to say, when he is racially-lectured-to-at-night on a lonely-dark-road and then chastised-with-clubs-all-the-way-to-the-bars, where he inexplicably and suicidally-hanged-himself on his-own-belt, with a broken-wrist and a two-handed-belt-bit.
Expendable-children sold to camel-train-racers for the minds of money-mad-men, who ignore-compassion for the families separated from each other, to fulfill the castrated and-or baby-girl-games, that deviate and generally satiate-their-bodies with chit.
In the name of Yabalosis; the twist of secret-doctrines, make examples of unfair-cruel-social-punishment for the lowly-populace of some of the world, where to understand mysterious-events, no ordinary person can begin-to-fit.
Excruciating-death for the flogged-prisoner, who, unknowingly sucked-his-mota in the wrong-nation of fundamental-notion, where the rich-petrollers, leaders and judiciary, frequently-flee to western-shores and indulge in flesh-sins of chemistry-mind and tit.
Hiding-behind the rocky-parapet, a callous-mercenary of religion points his telescopic-dum-dum-filled-rifle at the spine of the happy-child, playing hop-scotch in the civil-war-rubbled-street of home and actually-enjoys-thoughts of his paraplegic-future-sit.
Feed the concentrated-ex-fighting-fellers daily-water-pan, lying-close-together on putrefied-straw, towards the weakened and spirit-loss of hope, within the barbed-wire-high-voltage-fence they-die from malnutrition and buried by the remaining living-dead of grit.
Ten-armed-military-vicious-men penetrate beyond-the-legs and the helpless-naked-young-virgin-girl sobs-uncontrollably and prays-for-mercy in vain to-her-god, who-always-fails-to-answer-the-call for it.
An astounding-male-student of courage lives-through rough-torture of water and electric-currents to mutilate-privates by soldiers, who persistently-into-weals-his-skin and twice-drag-him-to-life across the sharp-cobblestones with multiple-gun-shot-wounds to the head and the body and he survives to commit.
Idealist-teenagers’ given the ride-of-their-lives are arrested and thrown-out of high-altitude-military-planes into a shark-infested-ocean to completely-disappear from mothers’ without their kit.
The king who was the brother-of-king, because of a divorcee-wedding, beheaded his new-son-in-law before-thousands of cheering subjects and at the same time had his beautiful young daughter publicly-executed by cranium-six-shot-hit.
Another king is slammed-for-atrocities against-children, their father executed before them and the rest of the family locked in a fetid-foul-cell for-nearly-twenty-years, with cockroaches, rats, snakes and mice, eating a diet-subsistence of rotted-fruits and vegetables and bread soaked in mice urine and feces. Finally, escaping by their-secret-three-months-tunneling to skies’-sun-lit.
The master-electrician wields-pliers and screwdrivers to extort the maddest-mendacious-statements from a hapless-trapped-chap, duct taped-disfigured and electrified, lying-now-inert on a refrigerated-slab, over and under the body-slashes and bloody-whirls depicting the fabled-extractions from the stomach-pit.
For a drunken lark sings a poor down-town-fainting-youth, who is severely-thrashed and after-revival takes-more-lashes across the bare-buttocks from a three-hundred-pound-muscle-bound-ape, swinging-wild a long-multi-piece-split and razor-sharp-kooboo-cane at full-strength, until the delicate-skin and flesh bursts-apart and blood-spurts and splatters the tormentor and the grinning-judges on-whom-we-spit.
In the ‘game’ of religious-persecution, the white-haired-octogenarian is chained-outside-day and night by swollen-blue-veined and wrinkled-wrist and emaciated-arm to a window-frame, under the white-hot-desert-sun, with bare-body-parts-scorching on grilling sand, forced-to-listen to his whimpering-sobbing-family of men-women and children and babies, expiring-certainly and slowly inside the crowded-cinder-block-cell of flies-fleas and humus with-no-exit.
What drives the dis-compassionate-uniformed-blood-pulse to bayonet-slice the pregnant-gut of a prostrate-woman and smash the dis-em-bowelled-baby against a tree, with no-cry of admonishment from the right-by-life or government-writ?
Buried by callous-contras, two-infants alongside of murdered-loving-parents, in the earthen-tomb still against the cold-corpses they faintly-breathe, until dug-out by passing-Samaritans to speechless-inhibit.
There always seems to be someone from the inhuman-race, who-will-step-forward to perpetrate and/or execute unspeakable-official-torture-crimes against fellow-humans, in the name of bad-laws, which should have long-ago been quit.
Totalitarian-rule of subjugated-human-beings too-frequently-raises the violent-heinous and extremely-barbaric-callousness of the human-mind. What rationality will foster and nourish-charity and compassion in the sensitivity of persons whose primary-role is supervision-benefit?
Called-up are they who will look-into-revelations and interpret the essenses of motivation, when the extremes-of-vision raise hopes for civilization, actually-to-become-civilized and that means people of determination and courage to infiltrate and foster-thought and provoke-eventual-transit.
The outer-edge of mutual-existence requires incalculable-production of individuals, who are unaffected by unscrupulous and brain-searing-anachronisms and/or feel-remorse for themselves and/or others. Thus, greater-intellects than mine in the field of genes and environmental-raising of the child, are hereby-charged with research and dispensation of change-by-radical-wit.
The foregoing poem is comprised of condensed interpretations of real media notices. They are contemporary with and intended to commemorate the first fifty years of The Declaration of Human Rights, that was signed by The United Nations General Assembly on December 10, 1948.
The English language in the poem is strained to stress the awful incidents recorded. Words are joined by hyphens to be read with pronounced emphasis.
Finished: June 2001.