illustration by Lynd Ward, 1957
The Moloch I speak of is not the lizard known to dwell in central Australia, the Thorny Dragon, the Thorny Devil, or Moloch Horridus. The Moloch I speak of is one not dissimilar to the one referred to in Ginsberg’s Howl, or that great beast of a god favoured and worshiped by the Phoenicians and the Canaanites. That same one that requires a great sacrifice to keep it at bay, to appease it.
I speak of Moloch, the bearer of solitude. The carrier of filth, depravity, ugliness, and ignorance. The one forcing us, and them to chase, succumb to and crumble before unobtainable dollars. The Same Moloch as in Howl, that leaves children screaming under the stairways and boys sobbing in armies. The one that relegates old men to weeping in the parks. This Moloch. This is the Moloch I speak of.
The torment of generations stolen and robbed of their identities, given formal apologies by the highest seated government officials for all to see and hear. Nightmare of Moloch! The death of whom was celebrated far and wide. Shoulders were patted, much congratulations were given. The time of the great consuming beast was behind us. We were rid of him simply because they said he was gone. Moloch.
Yet all the while Moloch was just having his face done. He is not immediately recognizable to those who know him as an acquaintance. Those who sleep restlessly at night in their small, perilous, and much forgotten homes, the ones who have seen, heard, and felt the wrath of Moloch knew and know he never left. Moloch as Murdoch! He has but dressed himself in a thin pale veneer of gutless rhetoric, populism, newspaper sales, and promised seats at a table of a supposed united global order. Mental Moloch!
He slimed, oozed, crawled and swaggered out of the mass media and into our willing, ready, prepared and moulded minds. The majority not recognising the full ramifications of his movements and his welcoming into our homes hearts and land. Moloch the loveless!
If and when we ever wake from our deeply depraved and worshiping slumber, we shall see him in his entirety. Our craven, churlish, heinous and hateful supply of children once and still ripped and torn from original families will be but a piece of what makes him. Moloch the heavy judger of men!
It is happening. You are aware. You know. You have the choice to remain ignorant chosen for you. Moloch in mining! Moloch in education! Moloch in our thoughts deeds and duties! Moloch until the end of history has wrought itself upon us and we must begin anew. Until then, Moloch, Moloch, Moloch!
Paradigm Stretch 