Thursday, December 11, 2008
Dis Poem
Mutabaruka
dis poem
shall speak of the wretched sea
that washed ships to these shores
of mothers cryin for their young
swallowed up by the sea
dis poem shall say nothin new
dis poem shall speak of time
time unlimited time undefined
dis poem shall call names
names like lumumba kenyatta nkrumah
hannibal akenaton malcolm garvey haile selassie
dis poem is vexed about apartheid rascism fascism
the klu klux klan riots
in brixton atlanta jim jones
dis poem is revoltin against 1st world 2nd world
3rd world division man made decision
dis poem is like all the rest
dis poem will not be amongst great literary works
will not be recited by poetry enthusiasts
will not be quoted by politicians nor men of religion
dis poem s knives bombs guns blood fire
blazin for freedom
yes dis poem is a drum
ashanti mau mau ibo yoruba nyahbingi warriors
uhuru uhuru
uhuru namibia
uhuru soweto
uhuru afrika
dis poem will not change things
dis poem need to be changed
dis poem is a rebirth of a peopl
arizin awaking understandin
dis poem speak is speakin have spoken
dis poem shall continue
even when poets have stopped writin'
dis poem shall survive u me it shall linger in history
in your mind
in time forever
dis poem is time only time will tell
dis poem is still not written
dis poem has no poet
dis poem is just a part of the story
his-story her-story our-story the story still untold
dis poem is now ringin talkin irritatin
makin u want to stop it
but dis poem will not stop
dis poem is long cannot be short
dis poem cannot be tamed cannot be blamed
the story is still not told about dis poem
dis poem is old new
dis poem was copied from the bible your prayer book
playboy magazine the n.y. times readers digest
the c.i.a. files the k.g.b. files
dis poem is no secret
dis poem shall be called boring stupid senseless
dis poem is watchin u tryin to make sense from dis poem
dis poem is messin up your brains
makin u want to stop listenin to dis poem
but u shall not stop listenin to dis poem
u need to know what will be said next in dis poem
dis poem shall disappoint u because
dis poem is to be continued in your mind in your mind
in your mind your mind
The World is Fucking You
Uncyclopedia
Ask yourself; what has the world ever done for you? You, a precious beautiful snowflake with a passionate love for Mother Nature, and an irrational hate for Talking Snakes have done nothing but give and give and give to this fat ugly planet, and what have you gotten in return? Not a thing. You reached into your chest and pulled out a beating heart and all of the infinite love contained therein, and The Earth laughed at you and gave you cancer.
Yes, I may have forgotten to mention that you have cancer. Boy that sucks. The AIDS-riddled orphans will miss your company and the way you made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and talked of memories past. But the world doesn't care about that. It chuckles at your misfortune. "Hehehe", the world says.
What a dick. That world has some nerve making light of such a serious situation. After all, it's not every day that a person gets cancer in their head, shoulders, knees, and toes. You my friend, are a marvel of modern science. How is it that in a time when thousands of the smartest scientists who have ever lived are working night and day to cure cancer, you still end up with this disease? The answer is quite simple; the world has it out for you.
You might as well give up now. You're fucked. Cancer-fucked.
Ask yourself; what has the world ever done for you? You, a precious beautiful snowflake with a passionate love for Mother Nature, and an irrational hate for Talking Snakes have done nothing but give and give and give to this fat ugly planet, and what have you gotten in return? Not a thing. You reached into your chest and pulled out a beating heart and all of the infinite love contained therein, and The Earth laughed at you and gave you cancer.
Yes, I may have forgotten to mention that you have cancer. Boy that sucks. The AIDS-riddled orphans will miss your company and the way you made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and talked of memories past. But the world doesn't care about that. It chuckles at your misfortune. "Hehehe", the world says.
What a dick. That world has some nerve making light of such a serious situation. After all, it's not every day that a person gets cancer in their head, shoulders, knees, and toes. You my friend, are a marvel of modern science. How is it that in a time when thousands of the smartest scientists who have ever lived are working night and day to cure cancer, you still end up with this disease? The answer is quite simple; the world has it out for you.
You might as well give up now. You're fucked. Cancer-fucked.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Balloon Trip: An Existential Journey
Sir Cucumber
The Resigned Gamer
www.resignedgamer.com
I've never believed in much, but in my youth I held a private article of faith that in the extra mode of Balloon Fight, if I just kept going a little bit longer, if I just held on, something good would happen. It had to. Or else what was the point?
A small part of me still wants to believe this, but I know better now.
The Resigned Gamer
www.resignedgamer.com
I've never believed in much, but in my youth I held a private article of faith that in the extra mode of Balloon Fight, if I just kept going a little bit longer, if I just held on, something good would happen. It had to. Or else what was the point?
A small part of me still wants to believe this, but I know better now.
Turn off your TV and live!
K.C. Schofield
Turn on the TV and what do you see? Sex, violence, drugs, money and the glorification of power, material products, wealth and physical beauty.
Look inside your heart and what do you find? Love, family, friendship, spirituality, parenthood, nurturing relationships, and the desire to help and do good for others.
Look at what our nation is teaching us. Our nation is teaching us- the cultural-socio-ideological values of physical looks, material wealth, and power- control over others and resources - are the things which we desire the most/work hardest to attain in our lives.
Do you honestly feel like sex, money, drugs, violence, and owning the latest technology should be the most important things/goals in your life?
Or do you feel that love, family, friendships, parenthood, nurturing relationships, spirituality, giving back to the community and helping others should be the most important thing in our lives?
If you are a genuinely normal, good person, you should choose the latter as the most important, meaningful aspects of life.
Now turn off the TV and what do you see? Your family, your spouse, your children, your home, your pets. Perhaps you will even look out the window or go outside and see the trees, bushes, flowers, grass, insects, animals, the blue sky, clouds, rain, sunsets, the moon and stars.
If you could pick between looking at your new convertible for the rest of your life, or looking out over a lake with a beautiful mountain view for the rest of your life, what would you choose?
Certainly not that big hunk of inanimate metal.
If you could choose between staring at a single piece of furniture for 4.5 hours a day or doing fun activities with and having meaningful supportive relationships with your loved ones, what would you pick?
Certainly not that big hunk of inanimate metal.
The fact is we already make these choices every day. The piece of furniture you stare at is called a television, and it tells you what to do. It tells you to what you should want, and it tells us that we should want physical beauty, material wealth and power over others.
It does not tell us to turn it off, hug our sister, tell our husband we love him for who he is, and take our family for a picnic in the park. It doesn’t tell you that you are beautiful, that life is beautiful. It doesn’t tell you to be sustainable and think for good of all the earth and to care about the future beyond your own short life. It doesn’t tell us how to live meaningful lives. It does not tell us right from wrong, or distinguish good from evil; instead it obscures it. All it does is tell us how to make them more money by buying their products. All television is doing to our country is leading it astray from the values and ideas which give people real lives with real meaning, purpose, and direction.
If all of our children want to grow up to be just like Paris Hilton, Snoop Dogg, and Hannah Montana, where will that lead our nation? What will a country of Parisis and Snoop Doggs look like, and what will they value? What will be the moral state of the nation then? Where will the humanity in us be, if all our children are going to care about is bitches, clothes, money, drugs, and guns?
We must ask ourselves where we are leading the youth. Where is the media leading our youth? Who is in control of the media? The government. Who is in control of the government? Corporations. What are the motivations of corporations, government, and media? To control all the wealth for themselves; not spread it around so everyone will benefit from the toil of our cut out, nine-to-five mediocre existence of subservient labor. They are the power-holding jackals of the nation who are corrupting the values of the youth from above to serve their selfish, meaningless, materialistic ends.
The values of Americans are at a crucial point.
We can either teach our children what is really valuable in life: love, family, friends, nurturing relationships, helping others, giving back to the community, and always doing the right thing, even when it hurts. We can teach our children to think for themselves, and to critically analyze the world around us instead of marching like sheep to the beat of a self-serving drum. We can teach our children that physical beauty and material possessions are temporary things which do not give us lasting happiness or health, and we can pull ourselves out of this trap of material confusion and consumption we have so tragically fallen into.
The bottom line is that the ultra-consumer life-style of Americans will eventually completely renounce or forget all values, morals, and ideas that give people real, meaningful, purposeful lives full of love and spiritual fulfillment. The choice is ours. Now let us turn off the TV and do the right thing for our future, even if it hurts.
Turn on the TV and what do you see? Sex, violence, drugs, money and the glorification of power, material products, wealth and physical beauty.
Look inside your heart and what do you find? Love, family, friendship, spirituality, parenthood, nurturing relationships, and the desire to help and do good for others.
Look at what our nation is teaching us. Our nation is teaching us- the cultural-socio-ideological values of physical looks, material wealth, and power- control over others and resources - are the things which we desire the most/work hardest to attain in our lives.
Do you honestly feel like sex, money, drugs, violence, and owning the latest technology should be the most important things/goals in your life?
Or do you feel that love, family, friendships, parenthood, nurturing relationships, spirituality, giving back to the community and helping others should be the most important thing in our lives?
If you are a genuinely normal, good person, you should choose the latter as the most important, meaningful aspects of life.
Now turn off the TV and what do you see? Your family, your spouse, your children, your home, your pets. Perhaps you will even look out the window or go outside and see the trees, bushes, flowers, grass, insects, animals, the blue sky, clouds, rain, sunsets, the moon and stars.
If you could pick between looking at your new convertible for the rest of your life, or looking out over a lake with a beautiful mountain view for the rest of your life, what would you choose?
Certainly not that big hunk of inanimate metal.
If you could choose between staring at a single piece of furniture for 4.5 hours a day or doing fun activities with and having meaningful supportive relationships with your loved ones, what would you pick?
Certainly not that big hunk of inanimate metal.
The fact is we already make these choices every day. The piece of furniture you stare at is called a television, and it tells you what to do. It tells you to what you should want, and it tells us that we should want physical beauty, material wealth and power over others.
It does not tell us to turn it off, hug our sister, tell our husband we love him for who he is, and take our family for a picnic in the park. It doesn’t tell you that you are beautiful, that life is beautiful. It doesn’t tell you to be sustainable and think for good of all the earth and to care about the future beyond your own short life. It doesn’t tell us how to live meaningful lives. It does not tell us right from wrong, or distinguish good from evil; instead it obscures it. All it does is tell us how to make them more money by buying their products. All television is doing to our country is leading it astray from the values and ideas which give people real lives with real meaning, purpose, and direction.
If all of our children want to grow up to be just like Paris Hilton, Snoop Dogg, and Hannah Montana, where will that lead our nation? What will a country of Parisis and Snoop Doggs look like, and what will they value? What will be the moral state of the nation then? Where will the humanity in us be, if all our children are going to care about is bitches, clothes, money, drugs, and guns?
We must ask ourselves where we are leading the youth. Where is the media leading our youth? Who is in control of the media? The government. Who is in control of the government? Corporations. What are the motivations of corporations, government, and media? To control all the wealth for themselves; not spread it around so everyone will benefit from the toil of our cut out, nine-to-five mediocre existence of subservient labor. They are the power-holding jackals of the nation who are corrupting the values of the youth from above to serve their selfish, meaningless, materialistic ends.
The values of Americans are at a crucial point.
We can either teach our children what is really valuable in life: love, family, friends, nurturing relationships, helping others, giving back to the community, and always doing the right thing, even when it hurts. We can teach our children to think for themselves, and to critically analyze the world around us instead of marching like sheep to the beat of a self-serving drum. We can teach our children that physical beauty and material possessions are temporary things which do not give us lasting happiness or health, and we can pull ourselves out of this trap of material confusion and consumption we have so tragically fallen into.
The bottom line is that the ultra-consumer life-style of Americans will eventually completely renounce or forget all values, morals, and ideas that give people real, meaningful, purposeful lives full of love and spiritual fulfillment. The choice is ours. Now let us turn off the TV and do the right thing for our future, even if it hurts.
The Point of No Return
Immortal Technique
Immortal Technique
Yeah... It's that real this time around
Immortal Technique... Revolutionary Vol. 2
It's on now motherfucker..
Lock and load!
This is the point of no return I could never go back
Life without parole, up state shackled and trapped
Living in the hole, lookin' at the world through a crack
But fuck that, I'd rather shoot it out and get clapped
I've gone too far, there ain't no coming back for me
Auschwitz gas chamber full of Zyklon-B
Just like the Spanish exterminating Tynos
Raping the black and Indian women, creating Latinos
Motherfuckers made me out of self-righteous hatred
And you got yourself a virus, stuck in the Matrix
A suicide bomber strapped and ready to blow
Lethal injection strapped down ready to go
Don't you understand they'll never let me live out in peace
Concrete jungle, guerrilla war out in the streets
Nat Turner with the sickle pitch fork and machete
The end of the world, motherfucker you not ready
This is the point of no return and nobody can stop it
Malcolm little when he knelt before Elijah Muhammad
The comet that killed the dinosaurs, changing the earth
They love to criticize they always say I change for the worse
Like prescription pills when you miss-using them nigga
The Templar Knights when they took Jerusalem nigga
And figured out what was buried under Soloman's Temple
Al Aksa the name is not coincidental
I know too much, the government is trying to murder me
No coming back like cutting your wrist open vertically
How could a serpent be purposely put in charge of the country
Genetic engineered sickness spread amongst me
My people are so hungry that they attack without reason
Like a fuckin' dog ripping off the hand that feeds him
Immortal Technique is treason to the patriot act
So come and get me motherfucker cause I'm not coming back
This is the point from which I could never return
And if I back down now then forever I burn
This is the point from which I could never retreat
Cause If I turn back now there can never be peace
This is the point from which I will die and succeed
Living the struggle, I know I'm alive when I bleed
From now on it can never be the same as before
Cause the place I'm from doesn't exist anymore
This is the point of no return nigga you better believe this
Mary Magdalen giving birth to the children of Jesus
The evolution of the world, bloody and dramatic
Human beings killing monkeys to conquer the planet
The kingdoms of Africa and Mesopotamia
Machine gunnin' your body with depleted uranium
This is the age of micro chips and titanium
The dark side of the moon and contact with aliens
I started out like Australians, criminal minded
Broke into hell, tore it down, and built a city behind it
South Paul, murderous, methodology nigga
Remember that I'm just a man don't follow me nigga
Cause once you past the point you can never go home
You've got to face the possibility of dying alone
So tell me motherfucker, how could you die for the throne?
When you don't even got the fuckin' heart to die for your own
It rains acid, one day the earth will cry from a stone
And you'll be lookin' at the world livin' inside of a dome
Computerized humanity living inside of a clone
This is the place where the unknown is living and real
Worm went to planet X and the seventh seal
Universal truth is not measure in mass appeal
This is the last time that I kneel and pray to the sky
Cause almost everything that I was always ever told was a lie
This is the point from which I could never return
And if I back down now then forever I burn
This is the point from which I could never retreat
Cause If I turn back now there can never be peace
This is the point from which I will die and succeed
Living the struggle, I know I'm alive when I bleed
From now on it can never be the same as before
Cause the place I'm from doesn't exist anymore
Immortal Technique... Revolutionary Vol. 2
It's on now motherfucker..
Lock and load!
This is the point of no return I could never go back
Life without parole, up state shackled and trapped
Living in the hole, lookin' at the world through a crack
But fuck that, I'd rather shoot it out and get clapped
I've gone too far, there ain't no coming back for me
Auschwitz gas chamber full of Zyklon-B
Just like the Spanish exterminating Tynos
Raping the black and Indian women, creating Latinos
Motherfuckers made me out of self-righteous hatred
And you got yourself a virus, stuck in the Matrix
A suicide bomber strapped and ready to blow
Lethal injection strapped down ready to go
Don't you understand they'll never let me live out in peace
Concrete jungle, guerrilla war out in the streets
Nat Turner with the sickle pitch fork and machete
The end of the world, motherfucker you not ready
This is the point of no return and nobody can stop it
Malcolm little when he knelt before Elijah Muhammad
The comet that killed the dinosaurs, changing the earth
They love to criticize they always say I change for the worse
Like prescription pills when you miss-using them nigga
The Templar Knights when they took Jerusalem nigga
And figured out what was buried under Soloman's Temple
Al Aksa the name is not coincidental
I know too much, the government is trying to murder me
No coming back like cutting your wrist open vertically
How could a serpent be purposely put in charge of the country
Genetic engineered sickness spread amongst me
My people are so hungry that they attack without reason
Like a fuckin' dog ripping off the hand that feeds him
Immortal Technique is treason to the patriot act
So come and get me motherfucker cause I'm not coming back
This is the point from which I could never return
And if I back down now then forever I burn
This is the point from which I could never retreat
Cause If I turn back now there can never be peace
This is the point from which I will die and succeed
Living the struggle, I know I'm alive when I bleed
From now on it can never be the same as before
Cause the place I'm from doesn't exist anymore
This is the point of no return nigga you better believe this
Mary Magdalen giving birth to the children of Jesus
The evolution of the world, bloody and dramatic
Human beings killing monkeys to conquer the planet
The kingdoms of Africa and Mesopotamia
Machine gunnin' your body with depleted uranium
This is the age of micro chips and titanium
The dark side of the moon and contact with aliens
I started out like Australians, criminal minded
Broke into hell, tore it down, and built a city behind it
South Paul, murderous, methodology nigga
Remember that I'm just a man don't follow me nigga
Cause once you past the point you can never go home
You've got to face the possibility of dying alone
So tell me motherfucker, how could you die for the throne?
When you don't even got the fuckin' heart to die for your own
It rains acid, one day the earth will cry from a stone
And you'll be lookin' at the world livin' inside of a dome
Computerized humanity living inside of a clone
This is the place where the unknown is living and real
Worm went to planet X and the seventh seal
Universal truth is not measure in mass appeal
This is the last time that I kneel and pray to the sky
Cause almost everything that I was always ever told was a lie
This is the point from which I could never return
And if I back down now then forever I burn
This is the point from which I could never retreat
Cause If I turn back now there can never be peace
This is the point from which I will die and succeed
Living the struggle, I know I'm alive when I bleed
From now on it can never be the same as before
Cause the place I'm from doesn't exist anymore
Fragments are all we have
Buffalo Danger
I have seen the underside of the bridge at Owl Creek and learned first-hand that reality is not to be trusted. I have borne lightness and consumed heaviness; now rabbit holes fall into me. These fragments and countless others I stockpile, filling shelves, knowing full well the ruins have been cleared and a brand new movie theater raised in their place. I named my goldfish Hieronymo and watched him take revenge on the plastic Victorian diver as best he could, but did not feed him.
Life moves in cycles, the cycles move in cycles, none of them are in phase with each other. Were that to happen somehow, we would all be passengers on a broken theme-park ride, forced to confront the pistons and wires protruding obscenely in fluorescent emergency lighting from the heroes and monsters we thought were real.
parallax paragnosis of the picture-perfect paradox purity produces paranoid paroxysms and paralytic paralalia of prismatic portent; though the pulsing pressure present stirs pulses like profound passions played piano, parachromatic preponderous pleasantries pour with pat platitudes on pretty patios proofed against the poets' pounding pleas.
Time heals all wounds, they say. What they miss is the fact that time is merely fattening us up so that the great junky in the sky can push off 150,000 times a day.
Eyes in their last extremity see deeper, more clearly, than eyes that still cling to what they live for.
Buddhist teachings in the wrong hands can be dangerous weapons.
I have seen the underside of the bridge at Owl Creek and learned first-hand that reality is not to be trusted. I have borne lightness and consumed heaviness; now rabbit holes fall into me. These fragments and countless others I stockpile, filling shelves, knowing full well the ruins have been cleared and a brand new movie theater raised in their place. I named my goldfish Hieronymo and watched him take revenge on the plastic Victorian diver as best he could, but did not feed him.
Life moves in cycles, the cycles move in cycles, none of them are in phase with each other. Were that to happen somehow, we would all be passengers on a broken theme-park ride, forced to confront the pistons and wires protruding obscenely in fluorescent emergency lighting from the heroes and monsters we thought were real.
parallax paragnosis of the picture-perfect paradox purity produces paranoid paroxysms and paralytic paralalia of prismatic portent; though the pulsing pressure present stirs pulses like profound passions played piano, parachromatic preponderous pleasantries pour with pat platitudes on pretty patios proofed against the poets' pounding pleas.
Time heals all wounds, they say. What they miss is the fact that time is merely fattening us up so that the great junky in the sky can push off 150,000 times a day.
Eyes in their last extremity see deeper, more clearly, than eyes that still cling to what they live for.
Buddhist teachings in the wrong hands can be dangerous weapons.
In search of happiness
"this ain't the mashed potato, no this isn't the lindy hop; the dance that goes with this is called the Keep Perfectly Still" -Buck 65, "Sunday Driver"
As we enter the digital age, the value of information plummets dramatically. In this new era, ignorance is no longer sufficient means with which to conjure bliss, and so we turn to nihilism.
I saw it coming
Buffalo Danger
I saw it coming in the rearview mirror:
Ah Pook in a honey-yellow Jeep,
Over the limit by thirty miles;
Crying and singing along to Miley Cyrus with the top down
Chain-smoking Marlboros two or three at a time
Driving with his knees, cutting his hair
With a little scythe, making gifts for the wind.
On better days
He moves in the stillness between heartbeats,
Grows in the split seconds between inhale and exhale.
He is hopelessly addicted to time itself, but exists
Only in the dark spaces our Cartesian stubbornness,
Sieve-like, cannot hold.
solution
Elephanto
i've come to a solution
out of necessity
arose a monster
graphically
and now, commitment is incessant -
the mind of a cannibalistic, obsessed narcoleptic
can't get any sleep
----- to spill
liquidly
languidly
crushed down
the frame of mind
of yours and mine
unsatisfied
unchanneled
and stewed khemikal
uneventful amazing in psychosymatic violent semi-automatic sub-atomic starbursts
the solution
untitled
Elephanto
As we enter the digital age, the value of information plummets dramatically. In this new era, ignorance is no longer sufficient means with which to conjure bliss, and so we turn to nihilism.
I saw it coming
Buffalo Danger
I saw it coming in the rearview mirror:
Ah Pook in a honey-yellow Jeep,
Over the limit by thirty miles;
Crying and singing along to Miley Cyrus with the top down
Chain-smoking Marlboros two or three at a time
Driving with his knees, cutting his hair
With a little scythe, making gifts for the wind.
On better days
He moves in the stillness between heartbeats,
Grows in the split seconds between inhale and exhale.
He is hopelessly addicted to time itself, but exists
Only in the dark spaces our Cartesian stubbornness,
Sieve-like, cannot hold.
solution
Elephanto
i've come to a solution
out of necessity
arose a monster
graphically
and now, commitment is incessant -
the mind of a cannibalistic, obsessed narcoleptic
can't get any sleep
----- to spill
liquidly
languidly
crushed down
the frame of mind
of yours and mine
unsatisfied
unchanneled
and stewed khemikal
uneventful amazing in psychosymatic violent semi-automatic sub-atomic starbursts
the solution
untitled
Elephanto
ethiopian skin mechanical
trapped in ghetto's meg-yard where mega-hard
arms swing metal palms iron skin levers
holding evil metal eagle attached to the desert
paranoid fingertips stitched with three-fifty plus seven metal shit
tucked behind the belt
ghetto style
like
delicate
street etiquette
trapped in ghetto's meg-yard where mega-hard
arms swing metal palms iron skin levers
holding evil metal eagle attached to the desert
paranoid fingertips stitched with three-fifty plus seven metal shit
tucked behind the belt
ghetto style
like
delicate
street etiquette
Fear is the New Black
Buffalo Danger
Buffalo Danger
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
One Nation Under CCTV
Banksy is Britain's most celebrated graffiti artist, but anonymity is vital to him because graffiti is illegal. The day he goes public is the day the graffiti ends.
The following is the Banksy Manifesto:
The graffiti shown here are several examples of Banksy's work. The first two pieces were painted on the security barrier separating Israel from the West bank, on the outskirts of Jerusalem.
"The segregation wall is a disgrace. The possibility I find exciting is you could turn the world's most invasive and degrading structure into the world's longest gallery of free speech and bad art." -Banksy
The following is the Banksy Manifesto:
"When I was a kid I used to pray
every night for a new bicycle.
Then I realised God doesn’t work that way,
so I stole one and prayed for forgiveness."
every night for a new bicycle.
Then I realised God doesn’t work that way,
so I stole one and prayed for forgiveness."
The graffiti shown here are several examples of Banksy's work. The first two pieces were painted on the security barrier separating Israel from the West bank, on the outskirts of Jerusalem.
"The segregation wall is a disgrace. The possibility I find exciting is you could turn the world's most invasive and degrading structure into the world's longest gallery of free speech and bad art." -Banksy
It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)
Bob Dylan
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?
And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Bob Dylan
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?
And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Babylon the Great
(Book excerpt by Calvin Heathman)
…Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to 600 Pine Street, and cried incessantly, “Risen is Babylon, risen!” As many of those, He provoked much laughter among those who were standing around just then. “Has he got lost?” asked one. “Did he lose his way like a child?” asked another. “Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? emigrated?”—Thus they yelled and laughed.
The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes.
♦
“Ignorance! Ignorance is the substratum on which the system builds its lies. A lie that is built creates stepping-stones to blindness, and to become blind is to engender and believe a false truth. A long time ago, men wanted to build a tower unto heaven, but God confused their language causing the mass dispersion of all. Thousands of years later, by way of a progressive and novel method, these men returned upon new soil, having mastered each ones language, cultures and principles. What was once confusion and indifference became a city. What was once foreign but conniving aspired again to the heavens. The obtainment of an indelible effectual truth was not their aim whilst their motive for gathering was purely selfish, entailing the destruction of “supposed” primitive societies, eliminating them before the height of their evolution—at the very start. The original inhabitants were slaughtered, raped, plundered, and then, concentrated; an unfortunate remnant remains unto this day scarred in their historical memory). These men started a slave system, built a marketplace, and established a governing body to expand further on their exploits. The denizens of this new republic considered themselves free and independent—in peace. In so short a time, the system enslaved everyone, with the exception of the select few “blessed ones” who must, as their initiation and continual ritual duty, do the devils bidding. Babylon the great was born. Men began to turn clay into bricks, extract iron, steel and many precious metals from the earth, depleting our mother of her nature. Buildings and skyscrapers were erected, the sacrilegious testament to Men’s awesome power. Every created thing was assigned a certain value, an illusory worth. Men became both consumers and commodities, and both were bought and sold. And many would die at the foot of society’s pyre. For Hundreds of years thenceforth, the citizens of Babylon have been working in ignorance, their purpose only to generate the endless stream of capital to build the largest cities and empires—all hailing the corporate sun God. Progress. Each citizen, captive of this apparatus of internal and international war, has willingly succumbed to his enslavement. Men work for worthless paper and illusory credit but not for what they have long discarded—their well-being. Babylon is but one thing in purpose and origin—total and tyrannical—for the people do not know for what purpose they truly exist. The soot of a million chimneys obscures the truth that all exist for the well-being of all those alive.”
♦
“One governing illusion that all Men have come to believe is their dependence on this system by fact. But what is this collectivity of minds and ideas focused on if not the urge to consume—subjecting oneself wholly to the collective drowning. In such a society as this, self-centeredness is magnified and Man’s ego is bolstered, as if it were on stilts, and we find an individual reaching out, and grasping and means that will prolong his supposed “well-being”—his comfort, longevity, salubriety, image, reputation and materials all subordinated to the temple of self. In this system, he is chained and numbered. Whatever he profits is given back in full to the system that feeds him. Truth in Babylon exists only in appearance to sedate the masses—for their entertainment. Babylon’s pernicious propaganda gives men the appearance that their souls have achieves their fullest possible growth, concealing its true, necrophilic nature. There is talk, provided at the economic mess halls, of a social ladder, giving all the idea of ascension. Quite disheartening is what Men will do for the illusion of peace, security, and success. One must either completely relinquish or conquer all regard for humanity to climb this epic ladder. First, he must keep it in his mind to be selfish. Second, he must determine himself to succeed in his selfish aim. Third, he must keep at heart his promise to sacrifice any and all things for this self. Fourth, and most importantly, he must deny his free nature to obtain this coveted, covetous state. Having climbed this ladder, he finds he has truly descended into a state of absolute slavery. He has amassed wealth, yet succumbed to complete control. Corporations have lost all interest in people, but insist on having them work. The must generate capital. Forever. And ever. Needless to say, the principle behind this system is intentionally senseless, and must bear only a semblance of truth. He who owns land must work to own it, he who owns a home must work to keep it. All belongs to Babylon. The wealthy few, those who control all the means of production are guilty of enslaving the masses, and must live with the burden of themselves. Fortunately, they are not too perturbed. All come into the world having nothing and leave the world having nothing; who then, is to say that there was anything in between?”
♦
“Money is the golden calf that comes to devour Babylon. Man has transfigured money into power, yet something that now wields power over him. Money will yesterday, today and likely, despite my gravest prayers, always remain the latest crave, wave, hype, craze and everything that is vain and false. Today’s clay is money and the Babylonians have returned to build and abstract tower, build on capital and credit that aspires to the heavens. The (t)ower is simply (p)ower and pride its substratum. It is so that order springs from systems, and systems spring from causes; money for the system is the chief of all causes. By pride, the devil fell, and by pride, Men climb the social ladder. So it was that Babylon was formed anew, evolved inimically and adopted a unifying commercial language. Men gathered to create this empire that profits false souls. E Pluribus Unum. From many, one order? Though in previous times, people lived in tribes and clans and raised their own banner, spoke their own language, and controlled their own territory. Now where have we come? We have been beset on all sides by the least expected forces of tyranny, like ants crawling rapidly to rebuild their colony. The greatest trick the devil has ever played was convincing Man he does not exist. There is no liberty aside from the system; there is no liberty against it. As long as Man generates capital, he becomes the system. E Pluribus Unum. The World Is ‘Ours’.”
♦
Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last, he threw his lantern on the ground, and it broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early," he said then; "my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than most distant stars—and yet they have done it themselves…
…Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to 600 Pine Street, and cried incessantly, “Risen is Babylon, risen!” As many of those, He provoked much laughter among those who were standing around just then. “Has he got lost?” asked one. “Did he lose his way like a child?” asked another. “Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? emigrated?”—Thus they yelled and laughed.
The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes.
♦
“Ignorance! Ignorance is the substratum on which the system builds its lies. A lie that is built creates stepping-stones to blindness, and to become blind is to engender and believe a false truth. A long time ago, men wanted to build a tower unto heaven, but God confused their language causing the mass dispersion of all. Thousands of years later, by way of a progressive and novel method, these men returned upon new soil, having mastered each ones language, cultures and principles. What was once confusion and indifference became a city. What was once foreign but conniving aspired again to the heavens. The obtainment of an indelible effectual truth was not their aim whilst their motive for gathering was purely selfish, entailing the destruction of “supposed” primitive societies, eliminating them before the height of their evolution—at the very start. The original inhabitants were slaughtered, raped, plundered, and then, concentrated; an unfortunate remnant remains unto this day scarred in their historical memory). These men started a slave system, built a marketplace, and established a governing body to expand further on their exploits. The denizens of this new republic considered themselves free and independent—in peace. In so short a time, the system enslaved everyone, with the exception of the select few “blessed ones” who must, as their initiation and continual ritual duty, do the devils bidding. Babylon the great was born. Men began to turn clay into bricks, extract iron, steel and many precious metals from the earth, depleting our mother of her nature. Buildings and skyscrapers were erected, the sacrilegious testament to Men’s awesome power. Every created thing was assigned a certain value, an illusory worth. Men became both consumers and commodities, and both were bought and sold. And many would die at the foot of society’s pyre. For Hundreds of years thenceforth, the citizens of Babylon have been working in ignorance, their purpose only to generate the endless stream of capital to build the largest cities and empires—all hailing the corporate sun God. Progress. Each citizen, captive of this apparatus of internal and international war, has willingly succumbed to his enslavement. Men work for worthless paper and illusory credit but not for what they have long discarded—their well-being. Babylon is but one thing in purpose and origin—total and tyrannical—for the people do not know for what purpose they truly exist. The soot of a million chimneys obscures the truth that all exist for the well-being of all those alive.”
♦
“One governing illusion that all Men have come to believe is their dependence on this system by fact. But what is this collectivity of minds and ideas focused on if not the urge to consume—subjecting oneself wholly to the collective drowning. In such a society as this, self-centeredness is magnified and Man’s ego is bolstered, as if it were on stilts, and we find an individual reaching out, and grasping and means that will prolong his supposed “well-being”—his comfort, longevity, salubriety, image, reputation and materials all subordinated to the temple of self. In this system, he is chained and numbered. Whatever he profits is given back in full to the system that feeds him. Truth in Babylon exists only in appearance to sedate the masses—for their entertainment. Babylon’s pernicious propaganda gives men the appearance that their souls have achieves their fullest possible growth, concealing its true, necrophilic nature. There is talk, provided at the economic mess halls, of a social ladder, giving all the idea of ascension. Quite disheartening is what Men will do for the illusion of peace, security, and success. One must either completely relinquish or conquer all regard for humanity to climb this epic ladder. First, he must keep it in his mind to be selfish. Second, he must determine himself to succeed in his selfish aim. Third, he must keep at heart his promise to sacrifice any and all things for this self. Fourth, and most importantly, he must deny his free nature to obtain this coveted, covetous state. Having climbed this ladder, he finds he has truly descended into a state of absolute slavery. He has amassed wealth, yet succumbed to complete control. Corporations have lost all interest in people, but insist on having them work. The must generate capital. Forever. And ever. Needless to say, the principle behind this system is intentionally senseless, and must bear only a semblance of truth. He who owns land must work to own it, he who owns a home must work to keep it. All belongs to Babylon. The wealthy few, those who control all the means of production are guilty of enslaving the masses, and must live with the burden of themselves. Fortunately, they are not too perturbed. All come into the world having nothing and leave the world having nothing; who then, is to say that there was anything in between?”
♦
“Money is the golden calf that comes to devour Babylon. Man has transfigured money into power, yet something that now wields power over him. Money will yesterday, today and likely, despite my gravest prayers, always remain the latest crave, wave, hype, craze and everything that is vain and false. Today’s clay is money and the Babylonians have returned to build and abstract tower, build on capital and credit that aspires to the heavens. The (t)ower is simply (p)ower and pride its substratum. It is so that order springs from systems, and systems spring from causes; money for the system is the chief of all causes. By pride, the devil fell, and by pride, Men climb the social ladder. So it was that Babylon was formed anew, evolved inimically and adopted a unifying commercial language. Men gathered to create this empire that profits false souls. E Pluribus Unum. From many, one order? Though in previous times, people lived in tribes and clans and raised their own banner, spoke their own language, and controlled their own territory. Now where have we come? We have been beset on all sides by the least expected forces of tyranny, like ants crawling rapidly to rebuild their colony. The greatest trick the devil has ever played was convincing Man he does not exist. There is no liberty aside from the system; there is no liberty against it. As long as Man generates capital, he becomes the system. E Pluribus Unum. The World Is ‘Ours’.”
♦
Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last, he threw his lantern on the ground, and it broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early," he said then; "my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than most distant stars—and yet they have done it themselves…
Monday, December 8, 2008
Declaration of Intent
The history of human activity swings like a pendulum between poles of normalization and revolution. All social orders, even the strongest empire, have flimsy seams of cohesion upon which they depend, and upon which subjugation of certain peoples and forms of knowledge is made necessary. Yet, the unceasing flow of history is the slow progress of dissolution at the seams.
We believe that digital media is the future of revolution; blogs and other communal spaces online, accessible throughout the world, are the only possible source of resistance in the fight against the globalized, commoditized de-individualization of human beings in society. The freedom of information the internet represents is our age’s last remaining bastion of radical democracy, even though the heavy trot of media consolidation would see this bastion razed to ruin.
We look skeptically at the trends of popular culture, which blinds us to its hypocrisy. Those who practice the expression of individuality through brand-name conformity lack a sensibility of radical receptivity and engagement. Instead of reifying our accepted notions of the “normal” and the “reasonable” into airtight and dogmatic dictums engaged with the ignominious “other”, we seek to engage “otherness”. We seek to dwell in the borderlands borne from dialogue between different sensibilities and attention towards the voices and visions that come from places not yet illuminated. As the political theorist Coles asserts, “that which emerges in receptive engagements and tensions between different ways of being is the deepening of our sense of suffering, danger and other possibilities for justice and flourishing”; the cultivation of this sensibility is the knowledge that we cannot rule out other modes of existence in advance. We are in pursuit of the ever-changing aesthetic of the un-voiced, the obscure, and the unusual.
And yet, the very medium through which we seek to foment artistic rebellion - these hallowed tubes - is at the same time one of the primary tools used to inundate the masses with conciliatory opiates as it robs us (you) of vitality and creativity. We have heard the metaphor, "you can't use the master's tools to tear down the master's house," but we propose an alternate truth: there is no house, there are no tools, and there may not even be a master.
Everything is fluid, identity itself unstable and dynamic. The "master" whose house we think we inhabit is nothing more than our own shadow, cast large on the wall by a light we've forgotten to look for. The delineation of modes and styles of expression into "tools," artificially constructed and limiting categories prevent us from seeing the whole for what it is, immense, overwhelming, and beautiful.
All this being said, we cannot deny that a coherent “we” does not exist in the formation of this blog. Furthermore, “we” are not radical revolutionaries who seek an outlet for expression; “we” are Creative writing students fulfilling a course requirement. But so what? The Man takes himself seriously so we defy him by refusing to take ourselves seriously - but also refusing to seriously adhere to the act of mocking protest by, on occasion, taking it seriously.
The resultant disagreement on content that will inevitably occur in our “we” is, on the final account, preferable to unanimous agreement. Homogeneity is a tool of the Man, while argument and strife are what fuel creativity—so let the fires burn, and always keep in mind
… We can't stop here. This is bat country!
We believe that digital media is the future of revolution; blogs and other communal spaces online, accessible throughout the world, are the only possible source of resistance in the fight against the globalized, commoditized de-individualization of human beings in society. The freedom of information the internet represents is our age’s last remaining bastion of radical democracy, even though the heavy trot of media consolidation would see this bastion razed to ruin.
We look skeptically at the trends of popular culture, which blinds us to its hypocrisy. Those who practice the expression of individuality through brand-name conformity lack a sensibility of radical receptivity and engagement. Instead of reifying our accepted notions of the “normal” and the “reasonable” into airtight and dogmatic dictums engaged with the ignominious “other”, we seek to engage “otherness”. We seek to dwell in the borderlands borne from dialogue between different sensibilities and attention towards the voices and visions that come from places not yet illuminated. As the political theorist Coles asserts, “that which emerges in receptive engagements and tensions between different ways of being is the deepening of our sense of suffering, danger and other possibilities for justice and flourishing”; the cultivation of this sensibility is the knowledge that we cannot rule out other modes of existence in advance. We are in pursuit of the ever-changing aesthetic of the un-voiced, the obscure, and the unusual.
And yet, the very medium through which we seek to foment artistic rebellion - these hallowed tubes - is at the same time one of the primary tools used to inundate the masses with conciliatory opiates as it robs us (you) of vitality and creativity. We have heard the metaphor, "you can't use the master's tools to tear down the master's house," but we propose an alternate truth: there is no house, there are no tools, and there may not even be a master.
Everything is fluid, identity itself unstable and dynamic. The "master" whose house we think we inhabit is nothing more than our own shadow, cast large on the wall by a light we've forgotten to look for. The delineation of modes and styles of expression into "tools," artificially constructed and limiting categories prevent us from seeing the whole for what it is, immense, overwhelming, and beautiful.
All this being said, we cannot deny that a coherent “we” does not exist in the formation of this blog. Furthermore, “we” are not radical revolutionaries who seek an outlet for expression; “we” are Creative writing students fulfilling a course requirement. But so what? The Man takes himself seriously so we defy him by refusing to take ourselves seriously - but also refusing to seriously adhere to the act of mocking protest by, on occasion, taking it seriously.
The resultant disagreement on content that will inevitably occur in our “we” is, on the final account, preferable to unanimous agreement. Homogeneity is a tool of the Man, while argument and strife are what fuel creativity—so let the fires burn, and always keep in mind
… We can't stop here. This is bat country!
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