The Feral Weeds of Civilization

June 27, 2015

There is no longer anything wild and free over the next hill. All you will find are filthy cities, factories, outlet malls, military bases, judicial centers. Remove your gaze from this monstrosity, and look toward the earth. Observe and learn from the flowering weed that cracks the pavement, so full of power, hopeful energy, creating beauty amid the desolation. Aren’t you a sweet, free spirit, a flowering weed that breaks through the asphalt, a serendipitous encounter who makes life bearable? Keep breaking out of the darkness of civilization. Thrust, reach up, display your beauty and freedom in ecstasy. Expand and expire for all to see, until you are crushed.

I feel my heart breaking and aching and resisting as I pull back from so much in life and take the time and space to heal and rebuild.  Painful.  Necessary.  And, after ten years intensively exploring anarcha-feminist lifeways within the confines of a consummate patriarchy, inevitable.  Each day I feel pieces of me fall away as i peel back the broken layers and rest what remains of my naked, raw self on a more solid foundation.  I look forward to our intersecting fates, my fellow feral weeds, as we continue to question and break from our pathological allegiance to an addictive society and its magnificent bribes.

Onward…What does it mean to leave an empire that has expanded everywhere?  In some ways, I think it makes the process more coherent, because the global expansion of empire has destroyed the illusion that we can simply pack up and ship out to a new place without recreating empire there as well. We must abolish and destroy the empire within us as well as the external forces of coercive control.

060915 digital adversity

June 10, 2015


my recovery means
a life leading me back to the infirmary
because the firmness of spirit in me has faded
from years of abuse, internal and external
i exist as a past participle of the life i once led
a collection of stories i now recite in my head
the same way that alcoholics choose between
the loose faith and bumpy road of recovery
winding serpentine and anything but easy
or the familiar certainty lying between
deceptively transparent walls containing liquid hate
(where a bottle of booze looks more like a lens
to distort, frame and perpetuate our focus
on the distilled Trojan Strawman dwelling therein)
another distraction to obfuscate the larger social truth:
that addiction is every day more
the social affliction of a profoundly sick society
(comprising heavily of well-adjusted individual
insanity, rampant dishonesty and other civil impropriety)
than it is a physiological excuse
to avoid accountability for whatever we choose
when something outside us worms its toxic way within
(for the sake of discussion, let’s call it “oppression”)
and incites us to pick and choose and press
the button clearly labeled “self-destruct”
over and over and over again.

sometimes its hard to read the thoughts i think
in the things i write in a blink to say,
“we’re fucked,” and i hope with intense inflection
that these words depict an inaccurate reflection —
an errant worldview too intent on the inherent negativity
of entropic introspection — radical activist collective
supposedly, lacking in praxis? to keep some perspective
meet the princess and the pea, normalizing himself
in the form of a conservative subculture complete
with social roles, costumes and alienating conformity
others’ clothing and ink say nothing of substance to me
but i read plenty regarding group structure and hierarchy
broadcast identities, merely unproven labels
smoke and mirrors where monsters primp and preen
while behavior to back the claims
evidence outstanding remains conspicuously unseen

my recovery means life leading me beyond
what i currently know to be true
by blurring the lines of industry inside of me
demarcating and limiting with digital adversity
the analog universe of divine poetry
spitting its verse of infinite diversity
right through me…when i choose to listen
to the subtleties of difference within
evolutionary creation embodying the creator
who spares no expense with every fiber of her being
to give us every opportunity to sense the intent behind
the meaning inside the scene she wants us to see
like how the civilogical narcissistic narrowness of,
“i eat what i grow” and “i grow what i know,”
simplifies itself through time with help from a new(ly re)found
innate curiosity and openness of mind into
“i seek to know and eat what grows”
somewhere in between the sharing of such simplicity
outside the civilogical confines of ethnocentricity
i discover new (to me) depths of complexity
fundamental and unfolding
inalienable and perplexing

in this case, every bottle of booze we abuse
finds itself entangled in a context of greater proof:
someone just wants to feel calm and OK
or at least, to become numb and aloof of her
pain, to overcome and not succumb to her
chronic anxiety, aka “that voice inside of me”
insisting quietly — sometimes screaming —
“something feels wrong”
prying my eyes wide open while dreaming
to show me the machinery of co-dependency
from the limits of my cage, she asks
“are you leaving?”

my recovery means shedding tears:
physically wasted on pasty white sun-basted
faces inhabiting strange places
these phrases read with an asynchronicity in colonial spaces
strangers in a strange land not for any lack of color
on the back of our hands but for the lack of mela(to)nin
in our thoughts that keep us subservient to The Man, Burning:
world turning, stomach churning, heart yearning, body learning
automatic somatic lessons from subtle confessions
the more i listen, the less i make
ethical concessions in exchange for good impressions
the less i need a therapeutic profession with the ever-present
“time’s up for today, please see the secretary to schedule your next session”
because this form of vulnerability has its own
built-in protections against
the patriarch plutarch oligarch spitting crude dark
into the atmosphere and my body, with my breath
let these cancerous words you hear
create the spark
ignite the fear and live to make your mark
free and clear of civil sociopathy, it took me
31 years to see all she really wants of me, i now summarize:
liberated empathy, from what i can surmise.

032515 intrinsically allied

March 27, 2015


stumbling numbly like a bumblebee
tumbling drunkenly between
blossoms on the tree

except the tree feels more
like cold steel and concrete
where blossoms begin to take shape
as square buildings of busyness
gleefully serving me
any of the poisonous pollens
and nectars that they make

at a certain point
in human prehistory
the appearance of civilized energy
upset a fundamental balance between
give and take

i try to track the myriad ways in which civilization levies its burdensome tax on life:

i pay once to play

twice for the resulting addiction to bring me back
down on my knees another day

three times to steal my health and autonomy
leaving me lonely, struggling on a path of (co)dependency
desperation holding sway

four times to turn
my friends and family into stranger
enemies divide and conquer, separate
alienate and stray

five times to institutionalize
this ubiquitous insanity
once intolerable, normalized
now the guiding light of life
here to stay

six times to close my eyes
to the process and pathology of the civilized
see no evil
hear no evil
speak no evil
let us pray

seven times for suicide

eight times for those of us who survive
smile and laugh the agony away

on the ninth i blame myself
— onslaught thoroughly justified —
for my failure to thrive through all the pain

the tenth time i found we pay
to close down, destroy, disincentivize
options available for us to choose once more
honest, liberated lives…

so we, shadow, slip and melt back into the fray

i look around at my fellow pollinators
falling toward the ground
like rain drops from the sky
hang my head in helpless shame
wonder why
and remember to reach beyond my given name
put myself inside of them again
intrinsically allied
as they die

so, then, do i

the mournful salt streams down my face
with the force of gravity from my eyes
when i realize how
— for most of our existence — we
now subservient technology
used to fly
and gave our lives to the controlling pen of history:
agriculture hierarchy
fortune, fear and fame.