012216 multimediated misery

January 23, 2016

012216

we are people
trapped inside stolen hearts and minds
squabbling over stolen lands on borrowed time
occupy hallowed ground, thieves
take directly from the Source, and
She always comes back around to collect, eventually
by hook, by crook and by force

we are people
baring broken hearts and souls
like smiling rows of snarling teeth
courage didn’t abandon us to grief
we abandoned her first, following
the disintegration of solidarity
expect the worst, watch it unfold

we are people
on parade with emotional implants
borrowed thoughts, tired rants
replacing the inspired action of praxis
like a retired chant relaxes
the realm of the spiritual
material collapses, leaving us alone

we are people without home
without food, without water
without air, without space
without silence, without peace
without shelter, without place
succumbing to the seduction of
trauma-induced, technology-produced
multimediated misery

a well-engineered excess of misguided “success”
transmutes our compliant screams, it seems
while we drown violently, in effect
void of life without ever dying
we are people, anymore…
…aren’t we?

A Poem for Ammon Bundy


“We Eat Mean People” — a modest proposal

July 8, 2015

“We have a firm rule here, we eat mean people.”

http://sugarmtnfarm.com/animals/sheep/comment-page-1/#comment-35232

Do the myriad sociopathic elite who structure and run civil society live low-stress lives?  In the scheme of things, their meat might prove quite good.  In the least, we know they are very well-fed…such a rule, applied more widely, might make for a fantastic form of nutritional forage and self-defense.  First, let’s distinguish between the vampiric sociopathic elite and the zombified non-sociopathic hordes who mimic them because they’ve been brainwashed into believing that

“If a man has an apartment stacked to the ceiling with newspapers we call him crazy. If a woman has a trailer house full of cats we call her nuts. But when people pathologically hoard so much cash that they impoverish the entire nation, we put them on the cover of Fortune magazine and pretend that they are role models.”

— B. Lester

The sociopathic elite sit at the top of the shit mountain we call civilization, and shit roles downhill.  Sociopaths tend not to stress out about either the harms they do to others or the harms done to others, which in this society, are myriad.  They do, however, stress out about the harms they perceive others doing to them.  Barring prevalent paranoia amongst the sociopathic elite, they might prove quite succulent and tender.    Even including the possibility of prevalent paranoia, they still suffer from only one of three potential forms of social stress.

Perhaps we should just start culling such people to the freezer.   But they mustn’t know they are being hunted.  Apart from ethical questions and sporting conduct, it might spoil the meat.

Happy hunting!


070515 A Tale of Two Fireworks

July 5, 2015

070515

Fireworks can be big, noisy, beautiful.
Full of color, an explosive dance of chemical-driven artistic energy.
Such fireworks are always forward facing.
They happen with grace and beauty…
…with warning.
They indicate an event to celebrate
or mark a loss worthy of our mourning.

Fireworks can also be gunshots, grenades, mortars, mines and bombs.
This one close, that one far away.
Fire in front, behind, from the side.
A pop and whistle bullet to graze your face,
the exit wound on the head of your friend.
Blood splatter and concussion waves, felt.
A grenade blowing off a limb.
A promise of terror, a question of when.
Conditioning adrenal glands with randomized efficiency
Fireworks can be the enemy, surrounding me, closing in.

The difference between fireworks has nothing to do with legality.
It takes a special kind of alienating sociopathy to create–
and revel in–echoes and parodies of trauma, loss and terror
to condition the next wave of children
to the sounds they hear
to the sights they will see
as they fight for the entitled right of this society’s elite–
once removed from the pillage, plunder and rape they crave
to keep the rest of the world on retainer as a fearful slave.

To everyone who participates in turning a neighborhood into a simulated warzone: FUCK YOU.
On behalf of all soldiers with PTSD whom you terrorize: FUCK YOU.
On behalf of the dogs and cats and other animals whom you terrorize: FUCK YOU.
On behalf of my own body, fatigued and hung over from nothing more than a terrifying night spiked by fight or flight: Fuck you.

I used to say, “I hate the 4th of July.”
But I no longer blame the day
because I love every day of life. However,
I hate the ways so many behave:
The drunken entitlement of narcissistic zombies
who let loose the fearful squawk of chicken hawks
from the plush comfort of their roost.
Who give toast to another imperialist war
from those who’ve never been
to those who will never leave.

Dear elite and empty minions:
Enjoy your ‘murrica day
behind bars, or in a hospital bed
with thoughts and feelings of grief and pain that come only
with imprisoning captivity, 3rd degree burns and fewer limbs.
Life, eventually, will beat empathy back into you
reaping and serving what you have sewn
straight from the pounding hearts of your unseen victims.


An intimate elbow brush with epidemic pathology

June 18, 2015

Wednesday night.  We planned to head over to the fairgrounds to pick some ripe bing cherries from volunteer trees.  We heard a man shouting outside.  I went out to get mail and investigate.  Middle-aged white dude cussing out two teenagers at the top of his lungs, and shouting at one to get in the truck.    Cussing and shouting escalated and continued.  I walked toward the truck.  He saw me, pulled back and into parkign lot across way and stopped for a minute.  Truck windows rolled up, still heard him shouting and cussing.  I started walking toward them again. Driving aggressively, he pulled out of parking lot and started heading south by my house again.  I shouted at him as he passed something like, “Please show show people more respect!” The best I could muster.

He slammed on breaks, squeaked tires at intersection.  Burned some serious rubber backing up to me.  I readied myself for confrontation and thought briefly about my safety, the safety of the woman and girl in the car with him. “Does he have a gun?”

What happened next sent surreal chills down my spine:  He immediately calmed down and rationally explained away his behavior to me, like someone flipped a switch on the back of his neck.  Then after telling me everything he thought i needed to know about the situation, he said, without a hint of irony, that it’s really “none of my business.”

“Yeah, well, when I hear you out in the street yelling at the top of your lungs and cussing at people you supposedly love from inside my house, you make it my business.”

He launched again into all the rationalizations. He “didn’t know where his daughter was,” and “was concerned for her safety” and “found her with a boy he’d never met.”  Ok, those sound like reasonable things to be upset about as a parent, and decent excuses for a man to exhibit angry, controlling behavior. Any port in a storm, and the long, slow burn of persistent patriarchy provides one hell of a 20,000 year old storm for us to weather.

“I’m allowed to get angry and fly off the handle.”

“And there’ll be consequences when you do that.  Is that really how you want to show your love?  Is that what you want the people around you to think love is?”

“You know what, fine.  Call the cops on me.  I don’t care.”

“I’m not concerned about you being angry.  I’m concerned about the reasons why.  I’m concerned that if you treat the people you say you love this way in pubilc, how do you behave in private?” (yes i know that many abusers present with perfect angelic behavior in public).

“Then call the cops on me,” he said again, and drove off.

Neighbors (one of whom is a mandatory reporter) heard him shouting, and came out to see the confrontation.  And, unknown to him, they fulfilled his request without ever hearing it.  “Yeah, that’s not love he was expressing,” they said, “when you can hear it pretty clearly from inside over an AC unit running on full blast.”  They called cops, who tracked him down (apparently lives on a street a few blocks south of me).  I have no idea what happened from there.

I went back inside and cried out my own anger and frustration and tried to calm my own fight or flight response. I wanted desparately to sleep that night. I hoped and begged my body, mind and spirit to cooperate.

And for some reason, I was reminded of my next door neighbor, who, shortly after I moved into my house several years ago, asked me to cut down “my” tree so he could get better television reception. A casual request for the destruction an entire biome — thousands of lives — for the sake of the quality of his chosen method of consumer entertainment…Do we need to talk through the insanely corrupt entitlement and value systems embodied in such requests?

I think of how I know it’s spring, not because plants leaf out again and flowers bloom, but because I pass rows of zombies mindlessly spraying poisons on land they believe they “own” in droning acts of biotic cleansing to purge the landscape of edible and medicinal plants they call “weeds” (again, without a hint of irony) as they scramble to maintain the stunted monocotic symbol of socioeconomic desperation they call “lawns.”

I think of the people who I see walk within feet of destroyers openly preying on the destroyed, only to ignore and pray it away like an errant thought.

I think of how 99% of the perpetrators of public violence seem to be men, and, how most of those men have reputations or history of giving (and sometimes receiving) abuse in their private life. I think of how often men stalk women and white people profile black people.

The term kyriarchy comes to mind. Civilization requires slavery of any and every kind. It requires domestic slavery and wage slavery and chattel slavery.

I, increasingly, see these diverse pathologies of civilization, the alienation, the abject psychopathy, narcissism, entitlement, chronic fear, as varied symptoms of the same underlying problem.  It’s not so far fetched. Consider, for instance, that three people can have celiac disease diagnostically manifesting with a non-overlapping display of a range of hundreds of various symptoms in each person.  They can eat similar diets and live simlar lives, even have similar genetics.  Yet, one will exhibit no clear or overt symptoms, or maybe occasional stiff joints and headaches.  One will exhibit primarily gastro-intestinal symptoms.  The other will feel primarily neurological symptoms of anxiety, depression and brain fog.  Some unlucky, extra-sensitive few may suffer through all these symptoms and more. The condition underneath remains the same: a destroyed gut interacting with a socially and physically and chemically toxic environment.

In the same way, civilization throws these pathologies at us like a game of whack-a-mole, and our symptoms vary massively.  In refusing to play that game, we call into question the foundations of our existence and our motivations in life.  It requires going deeper and looking, first and foremost, at our own pathologies and addictions to the processes and substances threatening to make zombies of us all, even as we continue our agonizing participation. Waking up is painful.  I meet few people who seem willing to give it up their slumber, who wish truly for the embodied spiritual ecstasy of liberation (I have caught only fleeting glimpses of it myself), who have no desire to bring any of the pathologies with them on they paths they walk with increasing mindfulness into a life worth living.  But we exist.  And we become more numerous and more bold, more desparate and courageous with each new day we learn to tell the difference between life and psychopathy.

The liberal cancer syllogism would have us believe that humans are destroying the planet:  humans are to the earth as cancer is to the body.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  The earth will survive long after civilized humans demonstrate once and for all our final incapacity to participate in and support life and love.   The war against civilization is purely a war against the spiritual devastation of humanity.  We are no grand saviors of the planet, because cancer is to the body as civilization is to humanity.  In a few thousand years — a blink in the eye of human’s existence — it has infiltrated and spread to epidemic proportions, supplanting nearly everything we know about life, replacing experience and feeling with pale parodies meant to contain and divide and distract us and keep us mired in crisis.

Leaving civilization does not mean flipping a switch.  It does not mean moving out into the woods (or else we might just bring it with us like a smokestack of trouble strapped to our backs).  It means depopulating the planet of humans and technology.  Depopulation means fighting patriarchy and supporting the empowerment of women and queers and other minorities in society. It means purging ourselves — inside and out — of the opulent minority ruling class.  It means supporting biomass as it asserts and protects itself against the expansive technomassive onslaught.  It means, increasingly, ignoring and outright-defying the institutions and laws and corporate mandates of empire and colonizing states.   It means disrupting the imperial flow of resources and other IV drips that slow civilization’s demise nad prolong its destructiveness.  It means purging the earth of the giant factories that dredge and scrape and squeeze and siphon the life from the land. It means prioritizing things like food, family, love, clean water and breathable air above money and social prestige.

It means an absolute refusal to martyr ourselves on the altar of pathology.  It means eating nourishing rather than poisonous foods, whatever that means for each person.  It means refusing to set our lives aside to come save civilization when it whimpers and calls out to us like a hurt child, and then spits in our face and stabs us in the stomach as we stoop in compassion to help.

It means any of these things, and all these things, and more.  For how pervasive civilization has become inside and outside of us, it remains extremely fragile to disruption.  When only a few dare to shed their internalized colonization, first and foremost, it will create an economic, physical disruption of oppression that civilization will fail to contain and suppress.  The only question in my mind is how bad we zombies will allow things to get before we wake up and fight for our right to live and die.

And I think about the purslane and wild lettuce and pineapple weed and sow thistle growing up through cracks in the middle of the intersection, how they resist and persist, day after day, year after year…the two-plus ton crush of metal beasts. The desertifying bake of the blacktop and urban heat islands…to create more life, more biomass, to displace, if only for a few months (or longer, barring civil intervention) the technomass that overruns and consumes and replaces earth’s life support systems as the immediate foundation of human existence.

The next day, we picked a half gallon of low-hanging bing cherries from feral trees. I thanked the trees, knowing that the timing isn’t always this perfect, and apologized for the small amount of damage I did. I wondered how long these trees will survive the endless hunger for energy when the urban fossil subsidies stop.


060615 temporary substitutes

June 6, 2015

060615

(life implies)
work to destroy
our casual, ubiquitous relationship
to addictive colonial commodities
–exorphic tools of control such as
sugar, grains, chocolate, coffee
the so-called “English breakfast” tea
and the rest of the global spice trade–
to watch every privileged life fade from view…

…privilege:
subtractive zero-sum civilized pyramid schemes
describing domesticated lives less-screwed
fools survive floating by
on top the drowning poverty crew

accept no temporary substitutes
like machines that run obediently on juice
and when the juice runs low
run back to the chattel
just a stone’s throw away
prisoners of an imprisoned
privileged few work the fields
night and day, nothing new
now hidden
behind the global technological veil

prepare yourself
when the liberal fair-trade fantasies fail
when slaveries stutter and lapse
imperial economies collapse
beneath the revolting tide of collective feral will

gladly say goodbye
because bodies detox and tastebuds adjust
while we discover exactly what
the land beneath our feet offers us

want liberation
in your body, soul, heart and mind

build genetic allegiance and trust
no willing addict of denial
expressing narcissistic preference
for the next fix, mindless
empty undead hunger-driven lust.


041810 fever dreams

May 13, 2015

041810

when you and i first met we were all smiles
we danced in the sun and walked for long miles
beneath the moonlit night sky
we thought no such thing of goodbye
like fools on trial where the rules don’t apply

friends turned foes whispered rumors about us
love turned suspicion, doubt grew into mistrust
cold anxiety and fear gave us wrong advice
hearts filled with lust, carve and serve by the slice
our short loneliness grew long as we paid the price

last sunday i woke from my sleep without hope
fever dreams, nightmares sent me spiraling
i crashed and i broke from the shock all alone
harsh air made me choke as i fled from your throne
through landscapes laden with guilty white bones
my feet sent me wandering, thinking of home

i was waiting for you on the tracks and you came,
smokestack of trouble chained to your back
it drowned out the sunshine,
we said goodbye to the day
and now we’re running away

lives left behind on the make
too little give, too much take
and in our wake how they’ve grown
these same old seeds that we’ve sewn


050110 moving train

May 11, 2015

050110

sudden noise, out of bed
sturdy feet, eyes ahead
prepare ready for the attack
stabbed in the back, the weapon is lies
compassion whithers, empathy dies

devotional scenes, muted screams
silenced dreams, see us blind
numb heart and brain, nevermind
too much suffering and pain
emotional buffering alienate
don’t meditate, self medicate
MO on that ignorant hate

passivity flows freely
we feel confused apathy,
neutral on a moving train
if something’s wrong,
we’re not to blame

thousand cuts we give and bleed
same way cannibal vampires feed
countless lines we greedy crossed
nobody knows what we lost
too distracted, easily amused
exploited instrumental blues
subtle violence, invisible abuse
everybody takes, feeling used
choices we don’t care we make

the easy path below we form
step into this modern world
where trust is weak
betrayal runs deep
and injustice is the norm