Apologetic subterfuge

Published earlier here in this publication.

February 21st, 2010: a three car convoy of Afghans were traveling to the market and then to a hospital for medical treatment. U.$. forces saw Afghans traveling together and launched an air to ground attack. Women jumped out waving their scarves to communicate they were civilians. The U.$. helicopter continued firing. 21 killed. 13 wounded.


December 26th, 2009: U.$. forces raided a home, pulled eight young men ages 11 - 18 out of their beds and gunned them down execution style. U.$. forces and distraught villagers later learned all were innocent of any wrongdoing. An apology was issued by the U.$. military.


Apologetic subterfuge?!

You can love me if you want
Feel free to hate me if you need
Just keep away from me your ignorance
Your racism and patriotic greed
Believe in your jesus
Your superiority and programmed ways
If it helps you sleep at night
Keep preaching your 'end of days'
Seven comes eleven its a crying shame
When the last time you did a pushup
you fucking lames!
Our bodies were built for sweat and love
minds wired for compassion not drugs
Turn off your fucking TV zombie
unplug that phone and those radios
Now listen, you hear it? 'crunch crunch'
That's those red white and blue imperialist goblins
eating Afghani wives and children for lunch
and the ticking sound that's increasing slowly
it's that capitalist system you love
slowly imploding
I'll shed no more tears for you Amerikkka
I'll never forgive you for what you've done
chewing on pregnant mothers and sons
killing unarmed little girls for fun
I'm an anti-imperialist communist poet
and we're winning motherfuckers
Fox 13's just not letting you know it.

February 12th 2010: U.$. forces raided a home and killed five people, including two pregnant mothers and a girl engaged to be married. The New York Times even uncovered Amerikkkan troops engaging in a deliberate cover up in an April 5th 2010 article.

According to a March 3rd 2010 report "The U.$. ignored the deaths of more than 850 Afghan children from treatable/preventable diseases as they focus warring on the second poorest country in the world"

Fuck you Amerikkka!
Straight up.
no apologies.
and no more hiding.
we're watching,
waiting....
tick tick tick!

"Home Sweet Home"

From: Solitarywatch:

October 16, 2010

by Jean Casella and James Ridgeway

Brandon Green is imprisoned in Uinta 1, a supermax unit at the Utah State Prison in Draper. His writings appear on a blog created for him by Utah Prison Watch. In this piece, he challenges readers to imagine what is like to live in solitary confinement, as he vividly describes the physical and psychological deterioration that take place in an isolation cell.

Go to your bathroom door and kick a hole in it. Now lock yourself in tight. Throw all your hygiene items, except a tooth brush and toothpaste tube, out the hole. Everything. Now go to your tub and flip it over. This is where you’ll sleep. Now sit. The light switch disappears and the shower spigot. A little speaker replaces them. It listens and sometimes speaks to you. Laughs at you. Taunts you. Tells you your suffering is entertaining. You can’t shut off the light with no switch and you’ll have to shower using the sink.

As you sit, you hear ten or so voices outside the door. That’s funny. Sounds like that guy who robbed my mother’s house last year and put her in a wheelchair after brutally beating and raping her. It can’t be! Is that the judge that let the man run free too? And his twisted attorney? Why are they here!?!

The worst enemies you could imagine, or put a face to, have just moved into your house. As you sit in the bathroom. These people only wish you harm of the utmost. And your death would be nothing but joy for them. All your food, and any mail you might be expecting, will have to come from these “squatter enemies.” Good luck!

To make matters worse, these enemies of yours control all your heating, air conditioning, water from your sink and to your toilet. And to top it off, if they see you sleeping they’ll kick the door and yell at you. They laugh.

You can hear these men day and night right outside your door. You smell them barbecuing  and smoking. You’re hungry. You can hear these men torturing people. Sometimes other people in similar bathrooms next to yours are pulled out and placed in body bags. To the  amusement of these squatters.

 A day passes this way.

“My god,” you say, “what have I done to deserve this?”

A week passes.
 You cry.

A month.
You attempt suicide but your vein closes up before death.

A year.
You are now talking to yourself and running around naked. You are convinced the food you seldom receive, that’s halfway edible, is poisoned. As you eat the rotten “meat” your beard and mustache get in the way of the teeth chewing. You couldn’t cry if your life depended on it. And it used to. But you’ve forgotten why.

Two years.
You can’t remember. You’ve forgotten. Forgotten what? You don’t know. The “squatter enemies” come around and you look at them. They look at you. They laugh. You start to laugh too. You forgot why. But you do.

Three years.
You sleep 20 hours a day. You can’t help it. But your floor is clean. You keep it spotless. You don’t know why. But you do. You’re skinny. You’ve lost an easy 60 lbs. Your skin is turning yellow and your legs cramp up and atrophy. You don’t want to die anymore. Why bother? You’d rather sleep and dream. The dreams are so vivid. More real than these walls.

Five years.
You go home, you leave your bathroom, this year.
They tell you that. But why? Where do I go? I don’t want to leave now. I like my tub and sink…

Dear Comrades (One Love)

Cats and dogs raining down my window

Dust bunnies roaming around my floor

Learned worms crawling around my stomach

Telling me I was taught to want more

These measly maggots at war with science

And what´s before us as real and true

I pump my blood until the skin stretches

Sweat drips onto the concrete like Chinese tea

Searching each repetition the puddle´s reflection

for truth.

The same as I do each U.S.W. study lesson

For a MC´s guidance into deeper realms

Blood starts to puddle and pool with my sweat

I question from where but continue to pace

Letting the itch of it linger on my face

Three cold meals and denials at mail call

Four cold walls and a solitary cot

One man alone with only one thought

Your punk denials will breed lawsuits

And my stomach turns cold to hot

We, Comrades, are part of something larger

More human than “Jesus” dying on a cross

Steering the people through minefields of hate

Aware it´s a privilege we even ate

A species on the sad cusp of extinction

One Vanguard, one chance, one reason

As planet Earth spins out the seasons

Survival of the fittest as Amerikkka weakens

Our species.

One Love Comrades