Tuesday 16 September 2014

Fore-Ward

*Fore Ward* 09/16/2014
(The possibility that the whole monthly system is set up to take away from the fact middle month is more important creatively/revolutionarily) [ Wink Wink ]

Solitary confinement is a tool the imperialist oppressor class uses to silence the oppressed classes inside and outside its borders. There is money in the prison system to be made also. Outside of its borders, this oppressor class, that constitutes 99% of the amerikkan citizenry [the first world as a whole basically. 20 % of the human species] the war machine must keep inventing enemies to wage war upon. ISIS now. Al-Qaeda before. I.E. the 80%. Each new IMAGINED threat is more vague. More all-encompassing. The term "terrorist" becoming the dollar sign for the military industry. Just like the term "gangmember" or "drugdealer" is dollar and cents for the prison industry.

You have almost fascism developed already but Noone sees it. You have a contradiction between the bourgeois rich ( and their bought off labor aristocracy ) on the one end, dueling with the oppressed nations sitting in solitary cells and the oppressed nations victims across the world living life in rubble strewn streets. Perpetual standstill.

The whole infrastructure of these rich classes depends, the maintaining of the contradiction with the oppressors on top and the oppressed on bottom, depends on the perpetually destroyed believing nothing can change. That nothing has ever changed and in the past change never happened.

So you got the entire school system and media force feeding contradiction-stalling bullshit. We are taught to believe in "mental-illness", that it exists and is the cause of "criminality", and that all sorts of mind-numbing, body-breaking, pharmaceutical-company-richening substances can cure these pseudo-illnesses. We begin to believe our sadness and anger is an internal thing and not an external thing. Not an outside-self factor, like being oppressed, being robbed by pigs over and over with fines and tickets for made-up offenses. Being bombed to death, holding your Childs hand as amerikkan missles come down your chimney, because you speak the truth about the worlds enemy. Being murdered by the robot, badged, lackeys of the rich for the simple fact you see incorrectness in the mainstreams correctness. And then seeing no charges against the pigs who murder in cold, cowardly blood. No charges, but medals and promotions, for soldiers that commit war crimes and crimes against humanity each day.

You see, deaths, and the dead, have a moral and hidden-until-now price tag.

If you kill the "mentally-ill", the "terrorist", the "criminal", "ISIS"... No problem. Doesn't matter. That's the purpose of these words. But if you kill an officer, a soldier... Problem. They will murder you in return with sensory deprivation, state execution or guided missles. Stacked-Against price tags.

If the contradiction-stalling-amerikkan-oppressor-class can't force medicate and force defeatist-dogma-hypnotize you, with its media, pharmaceutical and solitary confinement, it will NATO-ize you. It will terrorize you with bombs and bullets as it calls you the terrorist.
It's the night-time of an empire but they want you to believe roosters are crowing.

As i pound these nails into these expensive boards, which cleaning toilets at a truckstop repeatedly have bought, that constitute the second edition to a trailer house my father, who spent twenty years in a cell himself, whom, upon doing my ten years in a cell, i found starving-to-death-unto-seizures in a boarded off room in this tiny tin house... As i build, and slowly die myself, sweating my final drops onto truckers' soiled toilet seats, i consider the contradictions of times past. Of all the times a moneyed class has seized power of civilization and held on to the point of halting our species' evolution.
Because it's big. It's that huge.

Wednesday 10 September 2014

Marooned Baboons

*Marooned Baboons* 09/10/2014

Created this feeling by twisting fate
Escaped death so i could live bent
Beside the living missing the dead
Disordered i sit this night questioning

The year mark, the fear mark
Surpassed
The loves empty and the people unchanging
Like black and white silence surrounding
My cacophony of colorful sounds

We wait for deaths and news of tragedy
Making messes we count who clean up
Only the building-cleaners fear the wait
Time counted not in carcinogens breathed or alcohol drank
But in steak ate
Beside whom whos doom is understood the most
Attempting to pause the inevitable in those who
It takes a year to speak a word to

Blood. I can feel family hunger
The need for silent sleep cover
Taken away for a decade feeling nothing
Return to slowly say in final few years
I. Feel. Everything.

You can see the ape mentality when you fall
Loudly shrieking from treetops
Cheering chattering ancestors enjoyed those falling
And greeted happily the re-climbing
But the fallen were without a seconds thought
Stricken
Until bloody head breaks leaf cover again
You're forgotten

Grandiosity dueling with minisculity
How best to spend hours bent
On branches of lone tree way off in the distance
Watching the bloody history of apes
Repeat again

Crestfallen spending waking moments aware entirely
Of the below leaves forgotten
Throwing words like peanut butter to the hungry
At those of beauty in the shadows
Knowing it's always the struggling
Bloody, Dirty, Windswept visages of the species
That`ve pushed evolutions and revolutions forward

Watching from solo tree surrounding history
The up and down screaming falling tragedy
Eyes catch yours as you take a second away
From those earthbound below crawling again upwards
To plead with the stars for some speciel sanity

You looked away miniscule seconds
It's only in these snatches that we see
We recognize momentarily that we
The treed we alone questioning
Are not alone in the spectacle of waiting

It's the between of looking upwards and below
Knowing each time there's more
And they're getting ready

Soon

Soon

Monday 1 September 2014

Wait and Win

*Wait and Win* 09/01/2014

Anti-Amerikkanism equaling Anti-Terrorism
Ice challenge rich folk or rubble head challenges
Labor aristocrats supporting Anti-Bullying
Ignoring state executions
Feel good pig genociding

Hijack your dog and son
Institutionalizing, euthanizing
Charging lives
New age ransoms

I did it, you murdering copsuckers
Fuckin try to kill me and my comrades
Spencer Hoopers spider crawling like teardrop
Soon teeter-totter tips in our favor

Survived in order to expose your lies
That you correct and protect
Serving dollar signs
Rehabilitating white pocket books
Building red, brown and black brick
Solitary supermax

You'll never know it unless you experience it
And you'll never experience it if you're above it
Amerikkan

Sitting in it choking on it
Tasting pepperspray in your tears
Spit in your cheese sandwich
You've eaten repeatedly
Ten years

Twitch

Man executed made it out
As you sit
Just sit

Twitch twitch

When you kick your door
And hear the echo of your neighbor
Kicking his door
You scream
They scream

Teardrop

Coldchills

We're in it
We're against it
Together

Then you wake up after exhaustion
Expending every ounce of fluid from your body
The key here and only way to catch rest
Unloading sweat, sperm, tears
From spit sandwiches

You kick your door and SCREAM
Grin waiting
Nothing

As ringed, chubby, white, cologned fingers
Drop your saliva sandwich to cement
As you assume the kneeling
Ankle and finger lock position
Faced away
Teeth gritting

"Your friend killed himself"
Toothy grin behind plexi-glass
"What you gonna do bout it?"

Twitch

Silence

Twitch Twitch

Saturday 30 August 2014

See This

*See This* 08/30/2014

It's crazy. You know?
Like... You got all these people destroyed by this system over and over. Not because they (the destroyed) are anti-system but the opposite. They believe in this system.
Until you turn against Somethin you can't escape it.

A.A. Addicts addicted to the defeatist dogma
Spending entire McDonalds checks on gas for religious classes
Held in holes
Underground
Officiated by the most toothless and
Unsound
Senile

First time prisoners with asscheeks clenched
Begging the oppressor pigs for protection
Snitchin punks seekin homelife released
So mindwashed they tell on their mama
Substance stuck Hitchin rides to classes
Unsound senile weasels

God you got like pigpens blanket
Draggin those in carriages to alters
Copycatting weakness, bullying non-believers
Seeing your son sent missionary style
Fresh-Out-Of-High-School-Know-Nothings
To teach what was taught to as toddler
Like shitting cross country
Two failed
Potty trained juvenile
White Jesus'

Sun laughs at those who turn on family
Stagnant-Space-Stuck spewing guffaw flares
Stars against Bible books never added to
Sizes and colors infinite
Like a Fuck you to
Millionaire, military drunk
Windbag
Finale' empire presidents

I still piss in a fuckin cup beside my bed like id piss in the sink beside my head in prison.

I still am what I was that whole time. I'm against.
Against white pigs holding non-whites in cages. Passing out psychotropics. Collecting suicides.

When you are held down. When three million prisoners are caged and tortured so that three hundred million amerikkans can participate in the caging simply for economic benefit.

When you hold down. When a whole countries military is lower class poor, who join entirely for economic reasons, and are trained to fight poorer peoples in order to take their money and natural resources for those who pay the military.

The millions military oppressing billions for the benefit of the three hundred million. The three hundred million citizens of Amerikka oppressing the three million prisoners, who have nothing to lose but their chains, bills and Pig-Bullets-To-The-Back-While-Unarmed-And-Innocent.

It's seeming uncle sams blanket disintegrates
Wheelchaired senile wannabe white Jesus
Brushing hair of snarly liberty princess
With hand grenade pins

And waterboard

Witness

Saturday 16 August 2014

Blow Me Down

*Blow Me Down* 08/16/2014

I think the worst thing, the most dangerous aspect, and, at times, the only thing getting people through the hardest parts, is that when you are in the throes of insanity / torture / dying / love / lust / oppression / oppressing, you forget how it was before. You can't imagine after either. Total concentration on a single point.

IM caught up in working my job so much that my heart hurts. In solitary confinement I exercised and write so much that my heart hurt. Several girls, this past year, I've put so much of my concentration on, that I've been hurt.

I just drove by one girls house to see another mans truck in the drive. Talk about heart hurt. But I've come so far to even experience that hurt.

I drove a truck I bought, licensed and worked on. Gas in the tank I bought. A drivers license that took me over a grand to get unsuspended.

I've paid the parole people thousands. I paid the drug people thousands to drug test me and force religion on me.
Higher power, they say. Fuck you, I think.

The pigs pull me over religiously on my way to and from work. For no reason. I never do nothing wrong. Completely legal. It's just very...
What's the word?
All - encompassing.

This " doing right" all the goddamn time. And it seems the better I do the more the system presses me.

One year parole is standard and it's what was planned. They say to me now that five year parole will be more likely.

I sat in that solitary cell and changed the lives of people. Those caged beside me. I helped. Those who abused us had to stop.

But it was because I was tunnel visioned. Not because I was something great.

This past year every second has been spent helping my family. As far as I could uplift I've uplifted.

But the tunnel vision of the last year lost me everyone who helped me in solitary. This past year in the media world I've not heard a single story in the news about prison or solitary confinement. Nothin.
Noone cares out here.

I thought people were listening when I wrote about torture. A single person, not people, listened to me. A person or two.

How are we going to put a halt to sensory deprivation torture and the prison reliance we see around us? When everyone is tunnel visioned out here in society? 
Or is that even the goal here?

What happens when the prisons double instead of shrink by half?
Why is it that I am not supposed to make it out here and every possible thing the pigs can do to send me back, the hoops I jump over and over unto blatant disbelief, they do?

I mean, the pigs, the injustice system, is tunnel visioned also. The taxpayer. The prisoners. Tunnel visioned.

Three different, separate worlds in existence in this scenario. The prisoners see the pigs as pigs. Enemies. Because they are oppressed by pigs.

The taxpayer sees pigs as friend. And the prisoner as enemy.
Then, why doesn't the prisoner see taxpayer as enemy?
Something to chew on here, comrades. Don't you think?

Tuesday 12 August 2014

Clock Walk

*Clock Walk* 08/12/2014
Deviance majestic in its pearly camouflage
Every felony earned in August
But one
The single blackout I lost track of time

Hero who overworks unto exhaustion
Hid ten years from his voice
And angry siblings` overcriticisms

Fuckin stupid conversations
Over and over again
Money spent again and again
In order to spend it
Again

Begin pretendin bangin overweight
Seekin somethin odorless
Someone conscious
Enough not to base life on numb
Unconsciousness

Quit texting me
Silence uncomplicates me
You forget I've died a hundred times
As you try to live

Can one ever overcome the childishness
Bitchin about how bad it is
Never enough for those who've had
Their whole lives

Wishing want on those who'll never withstand it
Like loving women addicted to abuse
Hurting them with niceness
Slap, punch, kick her with shyness

You think I quit my politics
Motherfuckers
That I've trashed my freeworld friendships

Forced fraternization with voice
Pen silenced with speech
Practiced phrases repeated
The less vulgar are the more painless

When you want to finish
What you waited so long to start
When she does the unthinkable
To a heart you thought you forgot

Rememberin becomes less the enemy
When you attempt building futures
But seeing too far frightens
Like the serious and silent
Disconcerting the disrespectful
Shittalkers afraid to start

Life based on friendships
Common ground enjoyed around common enemies
Whom, like dolls, clothes switched
Limbs jerked with biting remarks behind backs

Miles walked verses frightened talk
Shoulder worlds or shoulder walk
Eventually grounds shift
When one watches the year hand on the clock

And he who lives with omnigeneration awareness
Leaps your second hand existence
Backbiting. Spoiled. Adult
Adolescents


Monday 11 August 2014

Hollow Words

*Hollow Words* 08/11/2014

Her grey hair, missing in patches, blows in the muggy , bathroom air as the fan rotates. Click click click Woosh, the plastic blades go. Clearly this woman is dying. Cancer maybe.

She needs to use the bathroom located in the shower; doesn't have the vitality to walk to the other end of the store to the womens room.
" yes ma'am", I say, " you can use this bathroom".
"thank you", she says, as she exits.
"have a nice day", I say.

She notices my hollow words. She thanks me again. I notice ... Her. Hollow words.

In the back of my mind, as I'm cleaning the shower she used, to relieve herself in, I think, " her death now passes to me"...
In the smell of the toilet, as I lean down to wipe it, her death, now my death, passes. Switches hosts.

You can feel it the rest of the day. Your sunburned , thirty year old face, is now grey, deathly.

The pains in your liver intensify. The mind, which I relied upon for so long for succor, has flicked the final switch. Decline. Falling by choice though. I'm done. The lady with the patchy hair, and frightened eyes, is just my excuse.

I was going to wait, hold off, until after my parole was finished, it was only going to be one year of parole, to retreat. Maybe collect disability for a while. Relax. I will not take the inferon, chemo therapy, to (possibly) defeat the hepatitis c virus in my blood.

If you YouTube peoples struggles, see one week, two... Two months, four... You will see why I made this decision.

They become nothing. Deflated. Playacting smiles. Eyes haunted. Like that lady that needed to empty her pain pill and pharmaceutical full bowels hurriedly, in a stinky old truckstop shower. Couldn't wait...
Can't. Wait....