I know I'm an idiot for asking this...
A Conference for Peace now. A Peace Conference now and forever, never tiring. For every time you ask for blood, blood comes back to haunt you. Retaliation is the name of the stupid murderous creep's crap game. He wants an eye for an eye, a sin for a sin, a ball for a turd, a heart for a stone. Only the wise deserve to rule. And we have always only criminal fucks. They go to kill. They've got to kill, and that's what they do, preparing for war, going to war, go to kill.
Paul Bowles: "You live in terms of time and money, and you think in terms of society and progress; then all that is left for you is to kill the other people who think the same way, along with a good many of those who do not, since that is the final manifestation of the malady."
The deadly virus of "civilization" always foisted on the other.
You wonder how is it that there are so many who enrol with "them", that they are ready to kill themselves in the "operation" of retaliation. There is a crazy criminal born every instant, in fact, there is a potential murderer born with every just a-born human. Why don't you wonder how are there so many who enrol within your camp, just the other part of the same killing machine...? You (but so do they) think that the reason is because your propaganda is the good one (and god is on your side, but they thing exactly the same). Both greedy for the same worthless shit. And one grabs it and in the meantime the dead pile over, and somebody must always retaliate.
Said Salvador Espriu: "Sempre he vist al meu voltant la injustícia i la por: I'm not a young man, and I've always seen around me injustice and fear. It's been always like that: gladly I had learned it on the heavy books of the hazy yore. The life is not good in the country I'm in, it's not a free country, it's a very tired, and cruel, and corrupted and very cowardly country. That's my lot, having to inhabit such a undignified country, and yet the rest of the world is not better. And my voice, that's all I can do, my voice against the disdain of the powerful is fragile indeed. Just a smile deserve my words from the lips of the princes, almost a smile that rises from oblivion, and then they still dictate, and for ever more, the frozen laws of strength and fright: a strong stick on the floor, benign crutches for the lame to blunder into death. How to fight only with worthless words, and what for then the shout of the dreamer...? Slowly I wake and see in silence the great fire in the far expanses. Shame and dishonor of all the peoples I see soon overcoming also us, those to burn. Perhaps someboy has understood, but it's probably too late, soon everybody'll realize that we are lost."