In reliving a dream I had a few years ago, I wrote this to put it into an esoteric prose. It isn’t hard to imagine that the next attack will be as the new president organizes his government. Look at your hand, and see the truth. It is as easy as a CEO, floating down on his golden parachute. In my dream, I know where, and when, I don’t know how. Tis the ides of March, dear people. Woe unto Miami.

The Saints came hard to the evening of insanity. There was engulfing smoke from the harbor view. Toys of the palace heirs were swept from their moorings, thought too blessed to fall. Swarming smoldering vapors that vilified breathing, sent the postulates to the canals. Water became fire, and fire became the air. The air had a travesty of fumes, burnt into its soul. The slots of canal water boiled over into the streets of people. Smells of burning flesh stained the airs of humanity. Beaches, from the multitudes of wealth, became bond fires, sending refuge to the shelters of beckoning tribunals. The unthinkable strains to all of the Gods, lit incendiary moats, entrapped, by the gangs of heartless vengeance. A farther search for the father imagines a desert of reason from the heart of hell.

That is when I saw the boats.

From all compasses they came, loaded to violence, rushed the holocaust and planted the seeds of an ending. The American lower land exploded! The senseless bile of living was no more a sage than the winner of American Idol, as small consequence became the a guest to the great. Trivial pursuits had become the Mastodon in the kitchen of the American dream. The biggest sense of the people really was the infliction of corporate and its mentors. Preoccupied with celebrity, the people don’t see what is happening to them.
The old ones, vesting in the great American scam, are about to lose it all because they cannot afford to lose it! The kings got them into the party; now, they’ll let them sink!
Don’t you know by now, why they love you? Swords to the Bull’s brain are not felt by subsidiaries of the rich, while they devastate the minimals, a mere hiccup in the train of corporate sluggishness.
Meanwhile, the long-laid plans for a retribution are in place. As the new king sleeps to fill his cabinet with minds, the plotters are motivated to strike. Confusion talks from many sides, hearing only the mandates, seeing just the sunshine, knowing but the good. This is the time when evil waits to bend the March of violence upon the unsuspecting hordes.

That is when I saw the boats.