Zoals gewoonlijk kiest men de kant van de misbruiker........

Een gedicht van Caitlin Johnstone, waarbij verder commentaar overbodig is:

You Sided Withe The Abuser Like A Fucking Cliché

by Caitlin Johnstone

You sided with the abuser like a fucking cliché.

You told your son he shouldn't displease his mother when he showed you the bite marks and bruises.

You chugged Nyquil while your husband raped your daughters and pretended to faint whenever they tried to tell you.

You invited the priest for dinner every Thursday and called your son an evil liar when he said what happens during prayer time.

You sided with the abuser like a fucking cliché.

You shrieked "rioting" and "looting" when people expressed their anger about cops murdering them with impunity.

You shrieked "terrorism" and "antisemitism" when Palestinians rose up against genocide and apartheid.

You called child rape in the Church a conspiracy theory and piously held out your tongue for your cracker.

You babbled about bad hygiene and Vladimir Putin when they arrested the journalist for exposing war crimes.

You babbled about humanitarian intervention when your government was arming ISIS and Al Qaeda.

You babbled about free and fair elections when your government was starving people to death for their oil.

You sided with the abuser like a fucking cliché.

You sided with rapacious multinational megacorporations over the people clearing their shelves in rightful outrage.

You sided with the globe-sprawling bloodthirsty empire over the nations struggling to retain their sovereignty.

You sided with greedy tech oligarchs over the public whose voice they're slowly throttling.

You sided with the murderers over those being murdered.

You sided with the powerful over the weak.

You sided with victimizers over those being victimized.

You sided with the abusers over the abused.

You are the abuser.

You are the rapist.

You are the murderer.

You are the empire.

You are the disease.

You sided with the abuser like a fucking cliché.

You sided with the abuser like a fucking cliché.

Thanks for reading! The best way to get around the internet censors and make sure you see the stuff I publish is to subscribe to the mailing list for my website, which will get you an email notification for everything I publish. My work is entirely reader-supported, so if you enjoyed this piece please consider sharing it around, liking me on Facebook, following my antics onTwitter, checking out my podcast on either Youtube, soundcloud, Apple podcasts or Spotify, following me on Steemit, throwing some money into my tip jar on Patreon or Paypal, purchasing some of my sweet merchandise, buying my books Rogue Nation: Psychonautical Adventures With Caitlin Johnstone and Woke: A Field Guide for Utopia Preppers. For more info on who I am, where I stand, and what I’m trying to do with this platform, click here. Everyone, racist platforms excluded, has my permission to republish, use or translate any part of this work (or anything else I’ve written) in any way they like free of charge.

Bitcoin donations:1Ac7PCQXoQoLA9Sh8fhAgiU3PHA2EX5Zm2

Caitlin Johnstone | May 29, 2020 at 1:54 am | Tags: caitlin johnstone, poem, poetry | Categories: Poetry | URL: https://wp.me/p9tj6M-2ai