Gone fishing

It´s not me who stinks – it´s this place.

Not me who´s crying – it´s my face.

I sleep here but I don´t live here

Even though I don´t ever leave – I don´t stay here.

I watched one of my friends be buried February second

My Mama´s cousin died – and I delivered her a Valentine´s present

I held the hand of my Baby nephew Gage

As we caught fish in the North Creek river

By hand.

We picked “picture rocks” out of the gritty fish smelling sand.

My father paroles any time soon.

Our tent and fishing poles are just waiting

You wanna come – there´s room

I visited my brother Jesse in the Beaver County Jail

Him and I still can´t get along – oh well

But when I left I still miss him

I´ll still hug him the next time I see him.

My baby sister has got two babies

Gavin´s three months and I swear he´s crazy

He spits and kicks and giggles too much

He ruined my work shirt and poked in my lunch.

Everyone thinks of me as gone – not returning.

My captors think I´ve lost it – afraid to serve me

My fellows are mad without their medication

Trying to prove themselves in every situation

Games and fronts and insecure rantings

Solitary supermax – but in reality I´m camping

Firewood, campfire smoke – my family laughing

Woodchucks, pheasants - my family still laughing

(you see?)

(February 2011)

Bouncing Around (RIP Roger)

 

 

Bouncing Around (RIP Roger)

Another one of my old friends just killed himself last week and I want to share my views on why this keeps happening here in small town Amerikkka.

Roger Thomas, Steve Ruesch, Kenny Ruesch, Jackie Erwig, Paul Bradshaw, Troy Bradshaw, and “Mick.” My friends who grew up with me up North Creek. Poor whites. The lower class in a state that lacks, literally, any Blacks to sate the white settler lynch mob “criminal” hysteria. (our state is so racist we won´t even allow non-whites to move here). These men lynched themselves in some of the most violent horrible fashions in my home town in front of their families. And I want to explain why, scientifically, this happens.

One hung himself as his girlfriend went to the store to grab some bread. She found him upon return.

One shot himself in the heart with his girlfriend´s pistol. In her bedroom on her bed as his girl went out for a cigarette. She found him.

Another unloaded a .22 caliber pistol into his head in front of his mother. And the other two hanged themselves.

One in the back country with a power extension cord from a pine tree. The other on work release at the Beaver County correctional facility. He used the radio wire from the radio he was installing in sheriff Yardley´s police truck.

I don´t explain in detail to sicken you. I provide detail so it can seem more real to you. And so that you can see what this capitalist/imperialist patriarchal society is doing to its poor. And the lengths these men go to avoid becoming a bogeyman prisoner or pig.

If you still believe these U$ gulags are filled to the brim with law breakers or degenerates you´re blind. These cells hold the poor and unemployed. And my hometown´s graveyard holds those who refuse to be chained or badged; those who have remained politically unconscient, but who knew subconsciously something´s majorly fucked up with imperialist Amerikkkan society. These are the men who turn fascist minutemen, Aryan brother, pig, prisoner or commit a violent suicide. It´s simple, it´s sick, but it´s reality.

And I find in writing my Gran it´s easier to explain. So like “Owls eyes” I´ll copy a piece of the letter in response to the news Roger killed himself. It´s less bitter. Less cynical this way. More Amerikkkan. More tailored to the average reader. The ones the anti-imperialist, anti-patriarchal, anti-militarist struggle needs to wake up. My Dear Reader:

“I know the pain that Steve and Kenny felt. And Roger felt. I believe this pain is centered in patriarchy and the greed-driven capitalist “dog-eat-dog” “devil-take-the-hindmast” need for success. We men are taught to feel shame if we are ´unsuccessful.´ This even ties into the fact that so many women are single mothers. We believe a man´s superior and should be the breadwinner. And the woman is the caretaker and should be sheltered. And when the man can´t provide, it kills him. It ruins him and the relationship, because he feels guilty and unmanly. They separate. She takes the kids because it´s her “job.”

            Then she feels bad, because she´s alone and she thinks it´s her fault. He feels bad because he thinks it´s his fault. She continues on because she must raise her kids. She has that. He bounces around searching for forgiveness in a cruel world. At least cruel to the unsuccessful man who can´t provide. Loser!

This is why Amerikkka has 7.4 million men and women in prison or on parole. This is why so many kill themselves.

In order for the military to expand, in order for these prisons to expand, people like Roger or Mick need to be bouncing around in society. A percentage will pick up the military gun, put on the fascist badge or succumb to the poor man´s chains. (you can just leave the old military draft in the closet if you just take jobs away).

And the reason why some choose neither, and kill themselves, is because the military doesn´t accept ´felons.´ (just like the nazi party didn´t accept Jews. Jews – felons. Same difference). And because most human beings with self-respect and a social conscience see a minuteman, Aryan brother, police officer and prison guard for what their profession is. A fascist parasite.  Á la´ Amerikkkan neo-nazi. And most men can´t surrender themselves to such a low profession. Or one of these bogey bourgeois, middle-class hated modern day koncentration kamps. They´d rather die than be a social outcast or pig. They´d rather die than become the thing that the media propagandizes into hating and feeling superior over.

It goes without saying that the men who ran the old Germany´s concentration kamps were tried for their crimes and executed once the world woke up. And history repeats.

To be poor is a crime nowadays. Classism. To be an unsuccessful man is a crime too. Patriarchy. To join the bloodthirsty military is patriotic and applauded. Chauvinism. But to be in prison for a gram of dope for ten years straight is justice. Fascism!

Hitler did the very same stuff Amerikkka does now. Prisons and the military are the number one growth industries for decades running. Still growing. It´s just instead of Jews we use poor whites or “coloreds.” The ones unable to defend themselves with attorneys.

Amerikkka creates Rogers, Micks, Steves, Kennys, Troys, Pauls, Jackies by design. The prisons need jobless Rogers and Jackies. The prison guard unions need jobless Micks and Pauls. And the military and police force needs jobless Steves, Kennys and Troys. No need for another war or crime. Just take their jobs.

The only problem is, Amerikkka isn´t Germany – one of the weakest nations in the world per 1914-1940. The problem is, no greater nation is strong enough to come in and stop the U$ $$ neo-nazi system.

So just like Germany in its heyday it continues. With the support of the middle class. The same middle class who sat by as millions of Jews were marched off to gas chambers. We look at the past German middle class with awe and disbelief. “How could they not do something.”

Right? It´s because they profited off of not doing anything. Just like Amerikkka profits off of Rogers, Micks, Steves, Kennys, Troys, Pauls Jackies. (in fact, the bourgeois were the $$ and koncentration kamp guards! And all fascism is, is basically unemployed people finding employ in killing off a certain people among them. A la Arizona´s SB1070 law and the crack cocaine/powder cocaine sentencing disparities).

Just like Germany profited off Jews and Jehovah Witnesses.

The poor are expendable says Fuhrer Obama.

The Jews are inferior, says President Hitler.

But try and tell that to our “free” nation. They´ll not give you parole – or drive you to suicide.

In strength (I know you feel me) and struggle,

B.

Feb 13th 2011

Swindle Hearse

Pull the fucking pistol out of your mouth

And pick up a book

Turn off that damn bourgeois television

And take a look.

Shit´s getting hectic, Brother, sure

But a bullet in the brain, Amigo, isn´t the cure.

It´s too late for you, man, but what about your son?

What about his generation who´s been taught to run

To stomp and tantrum and tattle tale

Suck the plastic flea market and dodge bourgeois hell

Imperialist sons medicated for depression

A hybrid oppressor slash enemy nation

I´ll sell you this for a gallon of that

Then starve the world and die of heart attack fat

It isn´t the way it´s meant.

All these senseless suicides ain´t some static event

The reason exists .- the why´s right here

Your casket costs thousands – payment plan three years

Sucking the fucking juice out of life - capitalism

Then profiting off of your death – straight sadism

Rent the church to grieve you in

Buy the hole to bury you in

Pay the – poor -  priest to say some words

Then scribble on some grey marble how much it hurts

Picking the pocket of the family that weeps

Dying´s expensive while living is cheap.

Business in death and death in business

What´s the price, father, the price to miss us?

Owls eyes

Comrades. D.H. Lawrence wrote once that a sign of insanity in a man isn´t all the crazy shit that he knows. But all the normal stuff he doesn´t know makes him insane. The stuff he misses. Like, the stuff everyone else sees but he himself misses – makes him insane.

I´ve been told lately that I´m awful bitter and cynical. Or I come across that way in my essays. A person can deny it only so many times, and from so many people, before he, if he´s smart, hears some grains of truth in the words.

So, I´ll get personal here for a second. Even though you guys probably don´t want to hear me pooh poohing, I´ll share some words I wrote to my grandma. The context is how I´ve done ten years thus far for non-violent drug charges. And I got four or five more years to go before parole because Utah considers me a “threat to the community.”

            Keep in mind, here in Backwards Reactionary Utah, not paying your tithing is a capital offense. So they frown on stoned atheists threatening their bourgeois polygamist community´s mellow degeneracy.

Pardon the bitter cynicism. Couldn´t help it.

I remember as a boy my Navajo Indian friend ´Mickey´ told me that owls are a sign of death in the family. If you see or hear an owl it´s bad luck. After grandmother Norma died of cancer I shot this owl with my 22 caliber rifle. I shot it several times before it fell to the ground out of the cottonwood tree it was porched in. I was out behind grandma´s house beside the main ´North Creek´ river.

I came upon this owl, still alive, looking at me with its big yellow and black eyes. I felt so bad. I was angry shooting it, thinking I was “getting-even” with it for making my Grandma Norma die. That´s what I felt – at first. But then I came upon it laying on the creek-bed. Looking at me like: “Why, what did I do to you?” I felt real bad. But it was dying. And I had to finish it off. So I did.

But I´ll never forget that owl´s eyes, Gran, asking: “Why, why?”

I don´t know if I´m maybe insane – but when I look into the mirror into my own eyes – my eyes question just the same way as that owl´s “why, what did I do?”

I didn´t do nothing. Neither of us did. Me. The owl. It´s just sometimes people (and systems) get angry and confused and react without thinking. They believe they are helping or “getting even,” shooting people out of their life´s trees because of some silly “belief.”

The belief that I´m a “sinner” or “criminal” and a threat to them. To something? To what? I can´t barely… - There´s nothing even left in me to hurt with. I´m just ´me´ now. A person. Alone. I´m like a ten year old!!

I´m just an owl in a tree getting shot at by some confused angry boy/system. I didn´t kill their grandma. I´m not bad luck.

But damned if I´m going to end up in the creek bed! Damned if! I got stuff to do, one day I hopefully…

So I´ll flutter from tree to tree, day to day, dodging the 22 bullets. And cross my feathers / fingers…”

2.4 million of us / 7.4 million if you count parolees and probationers – flutter from tree to tree dodging society´s hate of us. So yes, I am bitter and cynical. But it´s because I can be. Thus far I don´t have to worry about censors. Or if what I write will mess up my death row appeals. I´m not in the creek-bed. I ´may´ go home one day.

But I´m damned aware of all these that won´t.

I´m sickly aware of my nation rounding up thousands of Mexicans and “detaining” them. Deporting them. Gunning them down like dogs. All in an effort to protect their jobs. (Jobs they´re losing because of capitalism´s unstable nature, not a brown people´s hated persevering human nature).

I´m intelligent enough to make the mental leap that if my fellow countrymen act this way towards innocent outsiders, not a fucking thing´s stopping them acting that way toward hated native-born felons.

I know I´m not here to be corrected. I understand the percentages – 79% recidivism rate, 6 out of 7 junkies return to the junk – if there´s not room for a handful of Mexicans in our society where do we 7.4 million Amerikkkans go? How long until you just throw on the old grand dragon sheets and start picking off parolees like you do Mexicans? Like you do Palestinians and Afghans?

Put yourself in our shoes for a minute. It is one of the world´s greatest “mind-fucks= which we sit in the very center of. The majority of Amerikkkans are so mind-washed sitting in front of their television believing all the bourgeois bullshit propaganda that they don´t realize (or they actually do and applaud it) it´s their very own taxes, their own 22 rifles, picking us off. – my countrymen.

D.H. Lawrence. His definition of insanity perfectly, almost frighteningly, explains the U$ of A. to a tee.

The world looks on, as uncle $am slobbers on himself, rocking back and forth in the gutter. The man has lost it, grabbing and snatching everything in sight. And twisting it. Shoving it. “Correcting” and “rehabilitating” it. Sanctioning and globalizing it. Bending it into something whiter; something cheaper; something less bitter; less cynical.

“Who” does he think he is?

“Why” doesn´t someone stop him? --------

I just wish I was still a boy up North Creek. And I´d of paid that damn Mormon tithing on time. --------

In strength (“who who” – “why why”) and struggle,

B.

27^th of January 2011

Damn me?!

There’s this confusing aspect I’ve never quite been able to understand about Christian morality. You see, I’ve sat alone for three years in a solitary supermax control unit sensory deprivation dungeon. Where every emotion is sharpened a hundred fold but every avenue to share or express this feeling is cruelly taken away. Except mail. And my pen.

So it irks into me to receive these fancy guilded colourful Christmas cards from total strangers where they´ll tell me they love me but damn me to the depths of hell in the same breath. Because I´m a sinner, my soul is in limbo and it´s time for me to repent and prostrate myself to the all-mighty glorious One. Or burn!

But I love you, brother, take care. Is this what a motherf#$ker needs? Maybe if you all got together out there and started chanting and holding hands, these walls that hold amerikka´s 2.4 million political prisoners would crumble and we could join you for a psalm.

Well?

Were waiting…

Of course, maybe because we are top notch “sinners” in your books, the last thing you want is for us to be released. Does that thought frighten you? Is it a whole hell of a lot easier to pray for someone´s soul than it is to minister to their torturous mind f%$cked life? Because, in reality, Christians and “criminals” are both mind-washed masses. I´d be surprised if one could exist without the other. The former needs the latter to lord over and condemn. And preach to from afar. (the further, the better, no?) And what would a “criminal” do without the piles and piles of guilt, shame, sense of inferiority and hurt his brother christian bestows? In shiny Christmas cards.

The time has come to turn the tables. Your religion and these U$ koncentration kamps; your steeples and the judges´ pulpit; the church and the court house are one and the same. Tools of oppression. Both are filled with bigotry, racism and egotism. The priest and the judge. The gangster, the killer and the dope dealer. Who are the real sinners here? Who´s the bad guy? The true gang?

I heard once that to interact with true insanity in a person one has to be aware of the fact that craziness likes to jump ship. Meaning: a crazy person has the ability to make you feel like you´re the one that´s nuts. And I´d say the same applies to unjust systems I power. They have a way of mind-washing you into a nazi or a “crazed-fascist-mexican-border-minuteman.”

So father-elder-sister-brother our struggle is a fight to survive. Day to day. Minute to minute as human beings. Your creed and country are killing us as you pass around the collection plate and mail “form-letters” to us to ease your consciences. Our struggle attempts to raise our fellows´ ´self-esteem´ and heal -  not ´guilt-trip´ and destroy as your church does. The living, right here and now, interests us. Not some idealist bourgeois bullshit afterlife and prostrate and ask for mercy. And not from the all-mighty or some winged man. But from your fellow man you´ll kneel in supplication. And I´m going to ´go-there´, I must.

Why are we the ones hated? The prisoners. Who sit and study and starve to death. And why are they the ones supported? The soldiers. The ones who drop bombs on innocent people for a paycheck. Maybe because all we do is keep beds full and a handful of your employed, we´re inferior? At least compared to those that keep your gas tanks full and new amerikkan colonies occupied we are. No?

But I disgress.

Brother Christian, I´ll wish you a merry christmas also. And I send my love. But please note I´m not parting with some ´beefed-up-scare-tactic- ultimatum´ that might leave you in tears tonight, fingering your pistol. I understand that your kind, who keep medical science in a moral chokehold and evolution out of the elementary schools, are escapist and weak. I know a person who´s a citizen of earth´s most ´murderous-racist-atomic-imperialist-hypocritic´ nation feels a need to bury the old. Head in the sand. I feel you. I used to hide beneath the needle myself.

I just ask you keep your demons to yourself. Please. Never once did I try to push my dope on you. So give me the same respect.

And as you stand bent over with your head in a stale hole, know the rest of us have woken up and changed the cd. That bass beat you hear as you lose consciousness from lack of oxygen isn´t the ´Stars and stripes.´

We´re rocking the anthem of international socialism round these parts. The Internationale.

Let no one build walls to divide us,

Walls of hatred nor walls of stone.

Come greet the dawn and stand beside us,

We´ll live together or we´ll die alone.

In our world poisoned by exploitation,

Those who have taken, now they must give!

And end the Vanity of nations…

We want no condescending saviors

To rule us from their judgement hall…

And comrad Christian… comrade!!!

In strength (nighty night) and struggle

B.

@Comrade Christian@

(Blue Light Special)

Show me where it hurts

And I´ll stick a knife in it

Tell me all about it

But – you know – I´ve only got a minute

My flock sits perspiring

Fat, useless but pretty

Dressed to the nines

With pockets full of $10s and $20s.

I walkabout like a loudmouth cock

Strutting and condemning

My paycheck is paid on guilt

My new suit from J.C:Penny´s

A half off sale on common sense

Scare tactics and twisted history

Buy two get one free

Trading evolution for hypocrisy

Sell your soul to the denomination

Hurry before it´s too late!

Cast them muslims into damnation

We preach love not hate (right??!)

Fundamentalist islam, fundamentalist christian

Fundamentalist amerikkan in support of

A fundamentally racist system

I send strength to all Georgia comrades

And the other fifty states

I send strength to all comrades worldwide

Let´s do this damn thing mates!

Lumpen (Pigs and pills)

I want to say a few things about our ´class´ at this time in Amerikkka so those unfamiliar with us can be better prepared to struggle with us.

99% of us in those Koncentration Kamps, at least from what I´ve seen personally, are so mind-fucked and jaded as to think we deserve being caged and abused. Most of us have basically already given up and expect nothing less of the society and family that raised us. This type of “head-trip” is intensified by the psychiatric medications pushed on us as a sort of “you-need-this-and we´ll- give –it –to you” – bullshit guise, when it´s widely known in medical, “correction” and society circles that Seroquel, Effexor just cause diabetes; Celexa, Wellbutrin, Paxil, etc. just cause impotence among other problems.

So you have men and women (though I´ve not seen a women´s camp, I´ll wager it´s alike), believing they are rejects and deserve prison. Add to that pent up sexual frustrations, because of the medications you depend upon, and look forward to like a monkey sniffing ass, and hoard or sell to catch the only half “human-type-emotional” buzz you’ll ever experience, causes you to be unable to be sexual in any way. Totally uncool if your whole hood or set or gang supports “manly-men” and schwarzeneggerizm.

But then you overcompensate. You are weakened by the Antitriptaline / Elavel because the poison numbs your stomach and body. So you can’t work out even or exercise. But you can’t also stop now as you rely on the shit to sleep. You rely on The Very Thing that’s killing you to get you through. It becomes: either hang yourself or keep taking the pills to the neck.

So you have these two demons.

You have these pills that have to be replaced by something, anything, if and when you parole. And the system makes it a whole hell of a lot easier to get heroin or crystal meth than Serequel on the streets. Coincidence? Fuck no! The pigs know what the medication does to you and what it turns you into and eventually “ass-tight-as-a-drum” “heart-beating-wickedly-in-your-numb-constipated-chest” makes you do. These substances are the Lumpen’s big-bourgeoise enemy. When they put you in the “mental illness” zone you are basically fucked. You’ll basically, 9 times out of 10, kill yourself or shoot up the mall or university dormhouse.

And can you blame those motherfuckers who explode?

Ever since the age of Neanderthals we humans let our bodies tell us what’s what. But just recently we’ve been pumping our youth full of chemicals to “one-up-we-know-better-than-evolution”-correct their false criminal behaviors.

And that brings us to the second demon. We think we are “evil” criminals. We’ve been taught it. Treated like it. Said mercy to it. And that includes the places they place us in. We are institutionalized. We feel out of place in society (and Amerikkkan society, these days maybe we Lumpen are the more progressive). So if our “replacing-of-the-pills”-behavior doesn’t get us thrown back in the kennel then our “apeing-to-the-mindwashed-citizenry” will.

We must play the part. We lack strength, knowledge, even natural sexual urges, to guide us. So we look to the movies. We look to our “homies” or CD players to show us. But they’re in the same “hurt-beyond-words-so-we-act-hard-to-compensate”-soiled shoes. We look but we don’t find. We are a new breed. We are brain-dead but a force. If we become activated progressively we will become a bulldozer to this system of injustice.  

But the state of mental anguish we are chemically depped in prevents much sight beyond the day to day.

To break into the Lumpen mindset is going tot take a new breed of progressive. Because we are a new breed of man. We are the Zombies; the Mike Myers  and Jason Vorhees  on the revolutionary screen stutter-stepping to the screams of the Bourgeoisie. We trail strips of chemical wrapped cotton. We wear masks of institutionalization. We moan the sounds of pent up Humanity.

We are not peasants or mill workers.

We do not care about wages.

We look for, we seek, basically, the next crime. The next drive by. The next stabbing. Not because we need the money (we eat free in our cells) but because that is the only way we can barely feel anything close to humanity. We want to be normal again. But each day we worsen and harden and rot. We have trackmarks and stabwounds. Our brains and livers are hollow and swollen. We are used to taking and breaking.

But we cry at night because it’s all an act. We try and exercise, but can’t. We try and learn, but can’t. We attempt to fuck each other but can’t. The pills won’t allow us.

So we get mad. We turn on each other. We don’t turn on the “master” because he’s too strong. The motherfucker’s invincible. Just look at him. Plus he’s our “friend.” He feeds us and gives us candy pills. Let´s drag each other down. Let´s start from the bottom and climb to the top until there´s nothing left of us. Then we won´t be seen as low or lame or weak. At least not by one of “ us.”

The pigs already see us as lames. So does society. And that´s because we are. We´ve allowed them to make us weak. We begged for it. We faked suicide attempts and hearing voices. We´ve server mental health a bucket of bullshit so they´ll give us a “head-change.”

So now what are we to do, Lumpen? Comrades?

We can stop. We can look up at the men holding the batons. We can sniff the air and smell their fear and see their sweat drip off their brows.

They fear us.

That´s why they mind-wash and institutionalize us. They fear us because they know they are wrong. They start out like the rest of society believing “criminals” are “evil.” But once they live around us in our units, they see we aren´t bad people. They compare themselves to us and come up lacking defense. Because they´ve done worse. They do worse. And then the realization hits them that something´s wrong with the system. They see it first-hand in our faces. In their own guilty faces each morning.

Then the pig questions: why?

Why me? And why them?

It could have been me!

The system´s a bunch of shit and I´m just a pawn in that system. That makes me worse than being just a victim. Because I comply. Each day I do what I´m told, even though I know what I do is incorrect.

Ten years of this.

And twenty.

The pig´s a shell now. He´s been eaten inside and out by his country´s corrupt “corrections.” But he´ll die before he´ll admit it. Can you imagine if the world knew! If everyone saw the reality I´d be considered no better than a slave owner or a nazi in charge of Auschwitz. We can´t have that. And in order to keep that from happening he starts in on them. The offensive begins. Instead of being an observer he dips his limp wick in the mix of “criminals.” He incites. He belittles and tortures. He sleep-deprives and mind-fucks. Until he begins to feel powerful. He carries it home to his wife and kids. He treats other kids the way he treated the “criminals.”

He must create more.

He chooses who.

He becomes many. He becomes the society that picks several out of each class to cage. From day one, like sharks surrounded by chum, they sniff out the headstrong. The “colored” or unclean. These are set aside for the men who wear the badge. They must perpetuate it. They must or they´d have to admit 2.4 million human beings rot in cages just because of their fear.

Just because of what my father was taught by his father. And we can´t have that. Because that would mean we were sick. And it´s them who are sick. Those. Not me. Not us. I do not carpool and deep cleanse because I´m sick. I do not take Valium and Viagra because I´m sick. I do not attend church then hurry home to catch the Simpsons; I do not watch a war on television I don´t know the reason for or even understand the geography of; I do not drink wine to sleep and sip coffee to function; I do not take Tylenol and Gobble Tums… because I´m sick.

It´s them.

These “coloreds.” Those poor folk who don´t attend church services because they work. Heathens! Sinners! Damn you to the depths of hell! Or solitary.

That´ll teach you to be different. To voice dissent or question our war over in Afghanistan. Where´s Afghanistan? Why are we at war? Shucks uhhhh…  was it because of Mr Burns?! And that power plant thingy?

You. Amerikkkan. I let you take me into the depths of your hell. I took your pills once upon a time and it took me a stroke and two years to crawl out of that pit. I have track marks and hepatitis that betray the shame I used to feel because your society considered me a “bad seed.”

But now I see the whole sad situation and I´m sickened beyond words. You attempted to destroy me. You are attempting to destroy my family because you need to fill the status quo of “criminals.” My comrades sit being brain-washed (and starved to death), and they are so far gone nothing I do raises even subtle awareness.

The tables will be turned if not in my lifetime than the next, because such blatant disregard for life and humanity as this imperialistic, militaristic system shows is bound to fall hard!

The sad part is you don´t see that the very people you think are beneath you will be the very same who rise the fuck up and take it from you.

So here´s to Mr Burns everyone.

And that war in …AAA… Russia?

In strength (Keep ´em distracted Homer) and struggle

B.

FDR 25 or… fascism?

FDR 25 or… fascism? (Xs)

10/21/2010

At the Utah State Koncentration Kamp they have a policy (FDR 25) which is “top secret” as the Division Director, a.k.a. overseer, will tell you here:

“The policy you are requesting is FDR 25, intensive management / suicide prevention / strip cell. FDR 25 is classified as protected under the provisions of Grama Paragraph 63G-2-305 (12). That chapter deals with how staff is to handle and interact with criminals in the system. In fact, we do not let that chapter out to anyone not in law enforcement. Your request for a copy is, therefore, denied.”

A snippet of this policy states:

“Inmates shall not be permitted to receive newspapers, magazines, pamphlets, brochures, etc. Including religious texts, newspapers or pamphlets.”

Fascism: extreme totalitarian right-wing philosophy.

Right-wing: conservative or reactionary.

Reactionary: tending to oppose (esp. political) change.

So basically the “corrective facility” in which I am caged in has policies in which they break down how to treat and interact with Jews (I mean criminals). This policy includes restrictions on allowing captives religious texts and newspapers, etc. and I´m supposed to be corrected in some “out-of-the-blue” fashion, I guess, as I sit all alone with nothing in a solitary cell.

Hypocrisy: False claim to virtue; pretense.

The cherry on top of this Hitler-esque Hill is the symbol the Utah Department of Corrections uses on its letterhead and on their website. Which states they provide Honor, Integrity, and Accountability.

Honorable Departments with nothing to hide wouldn´t have top secret policies aimed at reactionary ends. And no policy supported by that department, could have a single ounce of integrity if it keeps men from practicing their religion and free speech. Last I checked this was still Amerikkka with a constitution that was written by revolutionaries in an attempt to stop that sort of injustice. And accountability. Who´s responsible for caging men for decades alone without magazines, religious texts, pictures, newspapers, and then releasing them? Is this their “accountability” they tout from one of the peeks in Southern Utah´s Red Rock on their letterhead symbol? Are they to be held accountable for men who don´t even know who the Amerikan president is because they´ve not read a newspaper in decades? How do you expect a person like that to get a job let alone be reintroduced back into society?

I just don´t get it. Unless the whole point (goal) is institutionalization. And then you have thousands of men in their youth, or prime, kept away from any and all pictures of the opposite sex in magazines, photos, etc. for decades. For punishment? I´m not even wanting to get the ramifications of that one. Or should I? For propriety´s sake I better skirt it. Yet… it is a reality. It is true. Wouldn´t any grown adult who was kept away from the opposite sex, even in photos, for decades become a management problem? I´d like to see one of you out there attempt it and let´s see if your loved ones don´t treat you with a little “ intensive management.”

And then you´re going to let these men out. The next time you guys see a high speed chase, ask yourself this: Is it possible this man was paroled thinking Bill Clinton was still president and the Twin Towers still stood?

Just imagine it. Is he running from the cops or from a world that suddenly fast forwarded twenty years and grew an internet. Is he scared of the handcuffs or more afraid of being kept without pictures of Britney Spears, Hayden Panitierre or Megan Fox for decades? Maybe this man is a devout Muslim or Christian on parole and as he “high speeds”, he´s attempting to memorize the Bible´s Second Letter to the Corinthians before they cage him and keep him without his holy texts for another decade.

Do you ever think of this society? Or are you too busy hating?

The next time a man at your local 7-11 seems shifty-eyed or suspicious, please don´t call the cops, maybe he just never knew Doritos had thirty-one flavors now and Michael Jackson´s not still the King of Neverland (King of Pop though he´ll forever stand). Maybe the cover of the latest “Maxim” magazine just took him some time to digest and he´s still catching his bearings.

Mayhap actually attending a church service, after two decades without has him overcome with the “Holy Spirit.” Maybe he needs a hug or a conversation and not a phone call to the cops and more solitary.

And know, reader, I´ve personally been at both ends of this field. I grew up being told, shown and believing people in prison are there for a just reason and deserve it, because they are bad people or lacking in some degree. I was taught this by my own family even though my own father was in prison. I was taught to hate him. And I did.

And then I came to prison. And I became the one hated. I paroled and was “that man” at the gas station (mouth full of the new cool ranch Doritos. Hands gripping several Maxims). Four times I received the “phone call” instead of the hug or conversation. And I again sit without religion, photos or newspapers. As society and my family hates me. Yet know, I sit with the utmost respect of my father now and extreme love. I now know why he was shifty-eyed and suspicious. But sadly. I don´t think I´ll ever understand why I was taught to hate him… - (Bourgeoise propaganda?) –

So at the start of this essay I showed you how “corrections” can oppose change. (if that is possible? I question it, even though I live it, is the sad part). I spoke about three words, or six, and how fascism, right-wing and reactionary can hide behind honor, integrity and accountability.

You know, I´m actually afraid that if I was to learn the whole FDR25 policy I´d discover it states how to drive a man mad real slow and convince him he´s mentally ill so they can push mind-numbing and body weakening psychotropics on him to stop his humanity and turn him into a good middle-class sleep. I´m scared it would be the revision of the German code used in the 1930s. The one that had all those past upstanding middle-class citizens driving their children to soccer and piano practice as they crinkled their noses trying to ignore those smells and ashes hitting their windshields. To ignore their Kamps.

I mean. History does repeat.

And FDR 25, at least the part not “top secret,” doesn´t bid well for things to come. Take it from me. I sit inside one of new Germany´s modern Koncentration Kamps. My face is up against the glass as I watch my comrades one by one being marched off to the firing squad chambers.

The precise titles and tags do change. But what they mean doesn´t.

How we smell doesn´t change either, nor what they do to us and the end result. The basics remain true. And foul.

Our ashes are just disguised as “corrections” and “rehabilitation.” Our punishment for dissent disguised as intensive management and control units. Our pleas for help batted down by the $$ Government´s Prison Litigation Reform Act.

Our humanity denied by policies like FDA25.

In strength (don´t you smell us?) and struggle,

B.

Silent Accusation II (Spencer Hooper RIP)

Give us rest, give us time
To sort out why our country doesn't realize
Torture laws and racism exist
And there's more to life than
Those Seinfield reruns you missed
As long as you have a Mazda Miata
With a full tank and a pack of smokes
You couldn't care less about 500,000 dead Iraqi children
Less names to intrude on your child's
Santa Claus naughty or nice list!?! folks?
A dead man hangs from an air vent
As a bunch of cowards laugh at him
But this man's dying breath
Pleaded for me to seek justice for him
And the justice will multiply a thousand fold
Because my strength is endless
I've chosen to pick up a revolutionary cause
And the world's vendettas
Against my supposed country
I'll carry the progressive red flag
And your overweight greedy amerikkkans
Will finally understand the meaning of sad
It's a true emotion that bubbles from within
Totally opposite than your sugar come down
And more human than your bullshit "sin"
Ring around the rosey and pop goes the weasel
Is that spittle on your lip Mr Vegetate?
Dialectics is jet fuel to your racist diesel
Give us rest, give us time
To sort out this mess we've made of our lives
Give us a chance to pay for our crimes
You have our bodies, some of our minds
What more do you want?
More pain and some fines!
Take his rigid body and cut it down
Call him worthless, call him clown
I called him friend, his mother's son
Look at his face, look what you've done.  (Published here)