Another Liam Neeson Shit-Flick
Dude has a ferocious Jones, a diabolical
need only mountains of cash can assuage.
Must have cause he keeps making those
hideous, vile vengeance kill fests that
celebrate the still breathing American
cowboy delusion that he, the individual
god riding roughshod upon this hard,
broken ground is the instrument of his
own justice, all powerful and merciless
towards evil, so all the frat boys and
red necks crammed into the mini-plexes
can get hard imagining themselves acting
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out the fantasy of being Liam, of standing
tall as a real man in a society that demands
their total surrender and abject humiliation
on almost any scale you can imagine.
40 years of him and all the rest of those
white skinned hucksters drowning us
in their fucking blood dramas of hate
and madness, their mythologies of artistic
inspiration, all so they could build grand
mansions in the Hamptons, buy castles
in LA and bloviate upon the creative
process while getting blowjobs from
the hopeful as the suckers filed out
into the night somewhere in Montana
or New Jersey, momentarily juiced,
momentarily oblivious to the truth
they all know but will never admit to.
Paul Lojeski
