Are We All just Dreaming?
Soldiers are dreamers, Siegfried Sassoon once said.
Those are his dreams too.
But he is not a soldier, just a citizen,
a Sovereign citizen to be precise.
A middle aged man who used to live
on a small bushland block
in a small Australian town
now hiding in a muddy hole
shivering in a bitter cold
clutching to his chest
his beloved machine guns.
The sharp metal ends
make the skin on his chest bleeds,
where his shirt is torn
from the thorny bush
he crawled through
to reach his cave
just a narrow opening
among the boulders really
on the side of a hill.
It is well stocked with tinned food, water and ammunitions of course.
Australian winters are mild, mind you.
It is not Siberia or Alaska,
He was on a cruise there once,
with his little boy and his wife.
Made a friend with a local in Juno
nicknamed gunslinger who owned pack of dogs
and even more guns
His fabricated cottage full of posters of Trump
and his biceps bursting out of his skin
fed by Testosterone pills were a point of talk,
among old ladies he trained in a local gym.
Gunslinger offered him a free bed so he decided to stay
working on his muscles and practising shooting.
He was not sad to see his wife with his little boy to leave
not really, they went back to a boring life in Australia
as was their duty to do really.
Her wages kept them afloat and the boy was clever
under her watchful eyes doing his chores
and homework every night.
He did not mind to be a father,
but he was born to do bigger things,
to be a hero.
Opening another tin of pressed chicken breasts
The cave was just big enough for his gym.
Well, the improvised gym equipment it was.
Never doubt Aussie ingenuity
to keep him warm and ready
to kill more policemen if they venture his way.
He gunned down too already who dare to knock
on the door of his farm, just because he did not
pay his speeding tickets and lost his licence
five years ago so what?
If he kill someone driving like a madman
well that looser should not be on that road
in the first place right?
The gunslinger taught him a lesson or two
before he returned back to his Aussie bush farm.
The law does not apply to everyone.
They are a special breed of macho men with big muscles
and big guns who can do as they like.
It is his farm and his truck and he needs to drive
to get around and about
speeding as much as he likes
so he will sue everyone
who said otherwise.
His life was good after he returned from Juno,
pocketing his unemployment he made pocket
money breeding the dogs while practising
shooting and his gym in his shed was top notch.
Even managed to get his testosterone fix on the Medicare too
helped with his depression he told the young female doctor
and laugh now on her naivety.
He was becoming famous by using the Sovereign Citizen's
online legal advice full of bollocks they said
but wrapped up in the right legal lingo
so it takes years for lawyers to realise it.
"That is how Trump is doing it."
We just need to copy him.
He heard Gunslinger's voice in his head,
use bullshit to cover our crimes
we can't pay lawyers like him to cover our asses
so we have to make it up ourselves
and spread it online so Sovereign Citizens around the world
bring all the governments to their knees
and we will rule the world
and kill everyone we do not like
or disagree with us.
"You are a new age hero,"
An old bushman waves from the escarpment below.
He stopped his exercise and peeped out of his hole.
"There is a million dollar reward on your head,
maybe I should pocket it."
He heard his cackling laugh.
Soon he appeared next to him and knocked him off his feet.
He put his muddy hiking boot of the newest design
on the old sack man used as his overcoat
feeling the fragile body squirming under it like a worm.
"You were homeless for too long living on scraps here way too long,
what for you need money?"
He took his expensive boot off wiping the mud with the corner of an old man's coat.
The old man put his muddy hat back on while coughing his lungs out.
"What else is new?" He watched him impatiently.
"Demonstrations in your honour in every city, they say Neo Nazi do it,
they are bashing Aboriginals," the old man pushed his thin fist into the air.
He smiled to himself proudly: "So I am starting a revolution,
maybe I can be the next leader of Australia."
"A leader my ass maybe of us," an old man laughed but feeling his boot
kicking his stomach he ended up coughing again.
"Something else?" He put the end of the gun under the old man's chin.
The old man spitted out the last of his tooth and shrugged:
"Some Chick in the government was assaulted by some of your
citizens, dunno, I like her."
"They are vermin, all of them, why do you like her?"
He growled at the old man
ready to leave.
The old man whispered to himself scrambling to his feet again
happy to see the back of him:
"She was in the park I meet my nurse in the mobile clinic,
she promised me the room in some nursery home
and I got it but I prefer it here, in my bush.
He looked carefully around if he is gone
then whispered fearfully:
"I don't want you here,
go back to your hole where you come from,
this is my bush."
