*Chia Sentence* 12/24/2014

Tenuous realities splattered with blood and shit
Time clocks, gas tanks and coffee mugs
Wondering to illusions if this is it

You fuckin wonder about these revolutionaries
Blowin up painted brick
You fuckin asked for it pig nation
Carryin your weight on your backs
Like an eagle obsessed
With whale meat and mammoth tooth

She monkey that digs holes
In jungle floors
As the troop kakaws from above
Handfuls of golden response
Thrown upwards like peoples
Shattered dreams

Speak spit sentences lippily
Cup ears like hollowed out emotions
Bent and moldy this
Bowl fluid

Work like its death
Live like eternal jobs
Behind toilets punching numbers
On the scum screens floating
Gloves rippling blood clots

Love me used and hate me borrowed
Back twitch as payment for
Chores worked like bank accounts
Of the starving to death
Seeking interest on ten cents

Most if not all buried regretting
All if not almost forgetting buried
Within days
Except for the payments
Or paychecks
Left

Clouds pirouette skies flashing pink
Skirts lifted heavenly skyward
Atom bombs like cocks penetrating
Hymens

Yule tide crashin upon empirific demise
Burial grounds of first nations
Embracing blood droppings and corpses
Grandchildren of genocide grandfathered
Silently

Owls hoot outside as pine smoke drifts
Wet dirt smells passing like pain
Across lips smiling at the largest
Bluest and brightest
Most lovingest and dangerous

Stoved in skulls flowerpottin fascists
Communist dreams watering ceramic futures
Pasted like Chia pets against
Weeping walls

* Spit Up * 12/09/2014

Restless riots releasing pent up rage
Pigs policing white supremacist illusions
Corporate killers corrupt beyond belief
Middle class small town, upper class Utah

Your prayers bullshit for your miniscule tragedies
Uppity jacked-up emotions facebooked for likes
Middle finger media sat on like spit up
On sperm covered couches in front of flatscreens

Prison industrial complex embraced or forgotten
Employ your daughter who cages your son
Steady paychecks beside steady delusions
Sign your name on the war on drug game

I can't fuckin breathe or gunned down
Holding BB guns, handcuffed behind backs
Pigs punching a constant in this land of genocide
Blame entirely on the innocent

Like Israel in Palastine or Europeans in Amerikka
Crimes foul like pox blankets
Rockets fired at innocents or troops boots
Dusting religious sentiment with soldiers

Clutching Maxim magazines, pork-lipped
Cowardly pink badged or camouflaged
Street soldiers and sand mercenaries
Death flags stitched on side pockets

Pictures of blonde home honeys waiting
Who hump paroled felons who feel them
For the short seconds before re-setup
A Womans character detecting incorrectness

In occupations consisting of injustice
Released from " corrections " to momentarily
Absorb compassion from the mothers of our species
Only solace for these alpha of the genus

Hands like t-bones after decade clutching
Realities unreality in chains insane
Mind open-season to those hell bent
On proving the basic points of the basically pointless

Labor aristocracy swarming poised over its grave
Unassuming fascists fluorided and bourgeois bleached
Manicured madness moisturized religious
Like lady liberty buttfucked by Jesus

* Goose Step * 11/28/2014

Tabulate strength in a spine in comparison to that of a pine tree. Measure your worth dead to that of the living. Staring up at a grey sky whos uncaring of all humanities been through. Wondering the purpose of our wasteful existences.
Its not like saving money will save the world. The do it yourself movement isn't the answer to anything. Seems like we are on a one way trip to nowhere and nobody cares beyond this minute. Purposeless we playact our nonexistent purposes.
Fuckin sittin behind a desk our whole life. Takin money for chips. Bedridden guilty consciouses scratching sick itch as we cough up the expensive habits we suffer with.
Squeezing out feelings we spend whole lives holding in. Dribbling down our shirtfronts in dark rooms nicely locked. Eyes darting for witnesses of sordid imaginings.
Sick pathetic Amerikkkkkkk.

* Mirror Givers * 11/23/2014

A year and a half free
Full year employed at the busiest truck stop
Enough work experience now for better employment
Sleep at night deeper the more i exhaust
Pain doesn't X-out enjoyment when the latters
Nonexistent

Wifts of reality wafting up from mirage footsteps
Feeling like a hamster one-way glassed
Peeping periodically past the people
Feeding looped reels like carrots
To glassy, wall-eyed rabbits who've jus witnessed
Parents death at the teeth of weasels
Pissin yourself as you digest

Every face has that which it can't confront
You're this, you're that but like reflections
Gleaming sideways unseeing we continue
With perfection in eyes bleeding of disease
Breath smelling of substances
Makeupped wanton need to be pretty
We proceed

When the jokes on you long enough
You become able to turn the tables
Audience involved unto silence
Like Kurt Cobain clapping
Sarcastically, sporadic like a shotgun
Into faces
Quieted with derision

The destruction of the comedic
Like fucking a partner so long you hate it
Hang it from a belt
Rape it like Black Amerikka
Hey, Robin and Cosby
Fuckin psuedo-society woe-seekers
Destruction of creativity a la
Finale' empiricity

My delusion I've used it
Hurt none in the process of it
I'll proceed with it as need necessitates
Avoiding unto perfection
This
Poetic tetris tic tac toe morass
Ones personal
Insurrection

Dizzy like a mouse in a tight wall
Worsening
Need for the worst stalemated
By some inconceivable net structure
Trap door made of red carpet
Scittering feet across chewed wood
Its only me...

*Answer* 11/10/2014

Fresh cut pine pops, burning in an antique 1940s stove with brand new stove pipe. Resting on the floor of the longed for addition to my fathers house i used to listen to my mother and father speak of as i sat on the carpet playing with Lincoln logs. These hands made come true thirty years later. Cracked, cramped and bleeding. I did it.
A cemented hell scrubbed and swept beyond clean hourly as an unshaven, unclean animal paces up and down lookin for dirt. The search for solace solely on the inside when placed in solitary sensory deprivation. Like the princess and the pea, searchingly you feel the discomfort of the smallest. Until you can coddle the pain into a shiny patina of pearly comfort. Either eat away or be eaten. Ten years of pain turned into a unique emotion, somewhere between philosopher and masochist.
You want what you can't get when it comes to the opposite sex and wish to jus sit surrounded by nothing but music after eighty hours a paycheck. The cutting up of venison today crawling with maggot. Yet smelling good and packaged to eat. As long as you cut around the bad parts its all good. The amount spent on meat puts a smile on the face of he who doesn't have to pay it. Another week.
Her dangerous teeth smiling at me behind braces. Tight cowgirl Wranglers supporting a thought more dangerous than crack or whiskey. Comrades forgive me my natural specie tendency to pass on genes in the vortex of a failing bourgeois society. Crimes against peoples revolution in the form of pretty haired innocence. Violent in her virginity. A face reminiscent of a past cellmate and her older sisters decline of my date request. Twenty years spent.
Words randomly splashed on a page as red bull courses through veins coated with coffee. Every fellow captive released and recaptured in tiny paragraphs each week in the local paper. From Kashas slashed wrists yesterday to Troys hanging death months ago. We repeat deaths and tragedies like favorite songs on skipped CDs.
You have to see and make peace with the ugly end before you can have a pretty beginning. And when you hold everything so deep down inside its dangerous when you rub the genie loose. Booze and crystal. Back and forth the army rides. To hell and back. The lower class song of suicide and homicide.
Rich people with fat fingers on the pause button of contradiction. Disappearing a son who holds righteous anger at a shady injustice system into a cell of destruction teaching defeatism. Returning home as an exampled time bomb. Destroying those half remembered and starring fifteen minutes of fame on the ten o clock news. Perpetuating the illusion; crime doesn't pay and pigs and white people are the solution.
Text message just received with braces and an emotion long since buried. Since she resembles my first girlfriend. Would be the worst to experience downfall from a forgotten emotion. The ambrosia of my voice tickling senses like facial expressions of Charles Manson. Its only those that fully finish a revolution that can be all forgiven. The beforehand builders buried skinless in shallow graves smelling of pig skin.
You've got this single moment to do with as you choose it. Spend it in jest if you're not afraid to lose it.
But those afraid of the big death embrace the little one. Whatever rules or laws precede it. Because, what's more, the destruction of a single entity or a species?

Part 2 "Fore-ward"

Part 2 "Fore-ward"

.... Anything you do or say or ("mental-illy" think) that challenges the present power structure is met with force. Force of the utmost. Generational force that's been built up and studied unto Sadist perfection.

An art form of the most brutal and unprogressive this.
And solitary confinement is the spearhead of it all. It is used in-border and out-border on those that can't be mindwashed. On those that put the species' future (as a whole. The majority. The 80%) before their lives.

I died in it. In that cell all alone all that time. You lose track. You DE-evolve.

Standstill. A standstill. Perpetual standstill.

It's what occurs in those sensory deprivation cells. It's what is occurring in the world. With these machines I outlined, machines developed for this sole reason. Stand. Still.
I'm dead but I move.
How bout you?

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.

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

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

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

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?

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