Third World War

What satisfaction do you receive from so much distraction? How actualized does the television really make you feel? I suppose for a nights escape its less destructive than others, but its still a drug. People drown themselves in familiar programs about happy people. When the bottle is empty so are they. The show ends and everyone is just as unhappy and alone as before. Turn on the news, that is educational right? Well, it could have been if it wasn't owned and controlled by a handful of conservative capitalists. To be honest the dreary crap on the local news is so censored, so propagandized its barely worth the time. Goebbels has been working overtime. I hear the propaganda, the call to war, and the lies. Everyday more, and more lies.
They tell us to join up, to fight for freedom against, well they don't tell us the truth. The United States War on Terror is a Race War. It is perpetrated by the White Christian Bourgeois against predominantly non-white Muslims. I hear the jackboots marching again. We are engaging in so many similar policies to the Third Reich, it is chilling. The wars we are starting for oil, in the third world are the beginning of some colonial project that may in the end destroy us all.
When the Third World War comes it will be lead by those left with conscience, they will rise up against the fascism and destruction of freedom perpetrated by the States. It will be a hard fight, but I think the people this nation has tortured maimed and abused for so long are the best to fight it. America long ago sowed the seeds of its dismemberment in the ground when it forced others to plough its fields.
Mighty America built upon the backs of brutally beaten slaves and Irishmen maimed in factories. How long did the founding fathers really believe a nation built upon so much despair could last? I hope if a Third World War comes, the poor, the homeless, the beaten, and the forgotten will rise up. I hope the word revolution will be painted in blood across the cities of the empire. No more police state. No more backward colonialism. Let the people who toil, sweat, and slave for this country actually bare the fruits of their labor. No more CEO's. No more Bosses. No Police. Just people. Equal, and free. Then maybe America can be a world symbol.
Of course, I'm kidding myself. I'm not even sure if America can be saved. The bourgeois revolution of the eighteenth century seems enough to satisfy most morons. The illusion of progress of change. People tell me all the time that it isn't so bad. America is not the worst place to live. These same people drink themselves to sleep every night watching sports on the television. How can the poor revolt then? They are filled with such doubt and apathy. This is the corporate dictators at work. They convince us consumerism will fill all the empty spaces in our lives. We collect junk and buy stuff we will never need until we run out of room in our little cells. Then we have to buy a bigger jail to house ourselves and our stuff in.
What kind of cell do you live in? How big is your television? How much stuff do you have? How much time do you spend listening to their lies? For the sake of the world I wish you wake up. I wish all of us good stand up together, before its to late. America is only a few blunders away from its annihilation, and no one will mourn it once it is gone. I think I shall learn to play a string instrument. I will find the perfect spot to sit down, and I will fiddle looking upon the modern Rome torched by the barbarians. Justice to the slaves of our colonial practices. Justice to the poor men and women struggling just to put food on their tables. I will play into the night, and it will be a good tune. When the fires all go out. I want to walk through the ashes. It will remind me of how much pain and suffering went into building such hallowed lands. Maybe now the Natives can take back a little of what is theirs too.

Absurd Mumblings

There I was, and here I am.
I've always believed at anytime the feeling of the Absurd could strike.
It settles in.
It can happen anywhere, the trigger can be anything.
You suddenly recall,
You recall that everything simplified leads to only one conclusion.
Nothing matters.
We live lives too poor, too short, and too falsely directed.
We don't even have time to enjoy them.
We stand in line.
Everyday the same routine, they ask us to give them everything.
We're supposed to establish credit.
We're supposed to buy a house.
A Car and find ourselves a pretty wife.
They tell you not to dwell to long on these musings.
They tell us to get real jobs.
We try asking them at first, and that never works.
So, we begin telling them.
One by one, we each leave their world, their capital.
Nothing they have can make me happy.
I don't need to buy freedom.
In fact I don't know anywhere that sells it.
Freedom may have sold out, but the freedom I'm looking for is not for sale.
I never want to be perfect.
I want to reject beauty.
I want to mock fine art.
In time all these things turn back into what they are.
Capitalism is a giant Cinderella fairy tale, and you are all too stupid too realize what happens
at midnight.
All the false illusions will come crashing down.
The lies you told yourself will come with them.
I can't wait for this day.
Your cars will just be pumpkins, your house, I'll burn it down.
And your wife will be haggardly and old.
Oh, but don't worry,
Buy more stuff, after all you've established credit and bought insurance on all your precious lies,
Haven't you?

My Apology to All of the Tortured and Maimed Political Prisoners of the United States Empire

If you speak it out it is treason. If you say stop they keep going. We live in ugly times. American globalization is the rebirth of colonialism. Africa, Asia, and the Middle East are the targets. When Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the preface for Henri Alleg's La Question he asked “is fifteen years enough time to transform victims into executioners?” The French empire he spoke of was just recovering from the brutal onslaught of Hitler. Fresh in the memory of the horrified survivors were Gestapo men dragging people off into rooms and torturing them. The terrifying rumors of gas chambers and mass-executions were no longer rumors. People came back, writers like Charlotte Delbo were expressing their pain. The Nazi application of colonial practice to the European scene had terrified the stagnant and bored bourgeois. The French Sartre was speaking to had begun to reenact the same practices over in the colony. French police in Algeria were using methods of torture like electrodes which would offend the proper bourgeois conscious. The trick the French government used when they enacted such violence was an old one. We heard this before. They, those others, those brown people, that inferior race. The French used the same racist crap that came out of the Nazis mouths to justify their colonial oppression. Nazi racism disgusted the world because it was targeted against white people. This idea was touched upon by the great writers of the anti-colonial error. Have you read Frantz Fanon? How about Aime Cesaire? Its alright, but you should.
The United State, yes that rabid dog of the west is frothing at the mouth. The States saw what Hitler did and wondered how they could do the same. When it joined the Second World War the countries liberated knew the conditions imposed by American occupation would be harsh. Have you ever considered why Germany was split, basically in half by the United States and the Soviet Union? The division of Germany was white on white colonialism. America, the bastard half aborted child of Europe now occupied swaths of it. France was made to give into corporate pressure in order to receive any reconstruction aid from the Empire. Europe was now occupied. Eventually this Fourth Reich began to get distracted. It already emasculated the ruined Japanese. No one had told the hard fighting Imperial Japanese soldiers that only white men can have empires. Japan was repressed with brutality even incomprehensible to the Nazis. After the military was defeated the American forces bombed the civilians ending with the genocidal murders of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Japan, the modern Icarus, the sufferer of American-European colonial racism.
The torture, raping, and murder of the Japanese people by the United States had left the American Government with very orientalist tastes. Not to long after the horrific endeavors of the Second World War the States went into Korea, and then Vietnam. The taste for exotic peoples. It would seem that Washington DC is a cannibalistic animal. It must consume the lives of other people to remain content. The debacle was twisted. The imperial capitalist desires of the states showed the world the lengths it would go to feed its appetite. When the rest of the world was renewing the Geneva Convention the states were absent, the reason being, Napalm. See the generals of fascist America like to see people burn alive. So, America chose to keep napalm in its arsenal. The horrific outcomes of yet another imperial endeavor struck a cord with the people. Mass protests occurred. Who would of thought in America, the bastion of anti-revolutionary sentiment, the people took to the streets. What happened? The draft happened. Enough rich kids were coming home maimed. Corporate CEO s couldn't bare looking at their armless son at the twelve course dinners. They couldn't, for this moment, bare to see their own boys die for their greed. Imagine, bourgeois sentiment stopped the war, not the hippies. The yuppies convinced the government that if we should ever make another colonial attempt we should only allow the poor to die for it. The theory of surplus population and the divine superiority of the rich requires this.
Vietnam ended the large scale imperial attempt in the far east. China would not speak to the Americans. Japan was subjugated, and the Philippines were controlled. The cold war raged on. The cold war was essentially a class war. The Soviets were supposed to represent the people, the proletariat. The States and their allies were meant to be the vanguards of the rich, the bourgeois. America and Europe vs. a Caricature of a Marxist classless state. The American war against communism was a ploy to stifle free thinking at home. So while America and Russia killed people who were different all around the globe, Americans were arrested, tortured, and killed at home. The cold war was an era of America the police state. Swat teams beating blacks. National guardsmen shooting students. It was an awful time. America did everything it could to refurbish and reinvent the Nazi model. America wanted a new colonialism. It got this. The world was forced to join sides. The first world, we chose to consider ourselves the first. Next we called the Soviets, Chinese, and the so called “red factions” were put in the camp called the second world, although Maoist China and Stalinist Russia were not known for cooperation. Finally the chessboard. The map was drawn with the prizes, all the old colonies would be known as the third world. The stages where the two big camps would fight for control. The empires had gotten too big, and the stakes too high. Now in almost feudal like fashion, the armies of these big factions clash in third world theaters. Killing others who consider joining the other side. Murder again and again, all for imperial gain. The cold war ended. The world could take a breath. One of the two evil empires competing for power had fallen. To the dismay of the poor it was the one who had at least pretended to be on their side. The Bourgeois American Empire looked upon the world with victorious conquest. One is reminded of when the Scots stood on the side of Hadrian's Wall Ready to pick apart the Roman cities around Britain. The American dog frothed at the mouth and expanded its power.
Today, in America we are almost twenty years away from the cold war. America has embarked on many a small colonial campaigns we don't speak too much about. Somalia, the first Iraq, Serbia, and others. We have a war on drugs. Which can be translated as a war, funded by taxes taken from people, and pharmaceutical companies. The Pharmaceutical monopoly on the drug trade is outrageous. The government violates other countries neutrality to enforce this Tylenol empire. So the war on drugs raged on. The laws strengthened and the jails filled with the poor. Why do so many poor use drugs? Health insurance is only available to the rich and those of moderate wealth. As long as this is so the poor will use drugs. The prisons will bulge representative of class injustice. The more poor in jail, the more space for the rich. The war on drugs was a continuation of the cold war. It was a war of empire against the people in favor of the bourgeois. The poor will end paying the the bill of the rich. They want more so we are supposed to give it up. A custom of old imperial courts was the poor were to avert their eyes from the emperor. We are supposed to stand out of the way and look to the other side when the rich progress.
America has begun a new war. It is called the war on terror. How absurd! What is a war on terror? I remember, the news said we were attacked. The people were scared. The men in the capital screamed for revenge. The colonial revivalists saw a new chance. Empire! America began a unilateral campaign of conquest in the third world. The euphemisms flowed preemptive warfare, establishing democracy, protecting freedom, never forgetting, and more. What were we supposed to never forget? Do you know how many poor tenants and small business owners were forced to relocate when the towers were built? They fought within the system to protect their homes and property. They were able to take the case all the way to the supreme court. The supreme court refused a trial and the designers tore down the homes and businesses. Do you remember the greed and excess that went into building it? What does the name mean? World Trade? Did it rein-vision the world with New York as its capital? When the building was attacked and fell who were the victims? 2750 was the final number. Multiply this by a thousand and you probably have only a fraction of the people killed for American greed. Worse still the aftermath. Our rights disappeared in the rubble of that building.
The Patriot Act, all of our rights eroding away. Jingoism. National pride blinding the people's senses. America becomes viewed around the world as a giant slobbering brute. The country will show up at your home and beat you to death with its threat of democracy and capitalism. So we occupy kill and murder. We rape and burn in the name of our glorious god. The god of America, cash. This god is green, and made of paper. The country will allow so much suffering for, so long as those who suffer are either poor or not-white. Oh, America land of free, home of brave. How free are we? We have cameras at traffic lights, and armed guards on the streets. How brave are we? Racism motivates our soldiers to rape little girls in third world countries. I don't want to be free and brave if that is what it means in the American context.
Imagine you are in Abu Ghraib, Baghram, or Guantanamo. You do not speak the same language as your captor. Your clothes have been taken away. You are naked and bruised. No crime has been read to you. They take you out, and beat you. You are “water-boarded” and burnt. These are the things they tell the people about. Now think of what really goes on. Thrown up against the wall, choked, cut with razor blades. They pull your finger nails out. They violate you with glass bottles. You starve, and never sleep. You here screams night and day. How far have we come since the holocaust? You are alone. Scared trapped. The conditions are miserable. What do you do? Nothing. Eventually you are taken out back and shot against the wall.
Don't worry too much. They were Nazis. They were Soviets. They were Imperialists. We are Americans those things don't happen here, well sometimes they do, but its alright. This is America. Aren't you glad you live here? Isn't America wonderful? No, it isn't. No, I'm not glad I live here. I'm sorry. Not to you. Not to the propagators, instigators and racists. I am sorry to the six year old boy in Iraq whose mother was raped by American soldiers and father was shot out back trying to stop them. I'm sorry for the world he has to grow up in. The war on terror, is a war of terror against the people of the world. America, what have you done?

Coffee with myself

I sat down for coffee with a younger scruffier nihilistic version of myself. He looked at me with a fire in his eyes. I recognized it all to well. He hated the world. The hate I used to feel. My younger self knew only hate and pain. The young mind maimed with little staples of injustice.
He had to leave the home he grew up in. Not the house, they had only lived in that house a few years. The boy had been part of a poor Massachusetts family. They floated around different apartments all through his childhood as his determined mother fought to make something better for them. She was proud and strong. The boy was young and stupid. He did not understand any of this. He didn't see her fighting the state. A state that stamps your class on your forehead at a young age. My mother, daughter of an immigrant and a criminal of a more robin hood like sort was not destined to have what she does. No, if the state had its way we were supposed to stay in the projects, and eventually die of poverty in poverty. The mother was stronger than that. She climbed to higher feats. They didn't always get along. She fought the state within it. The boy couldn't see the point. The state for him was uninhabitable. The ethos of capitalism was devoid of any value.
The boy tried drugs, he had long hair, all the silly little rebellions. He read Marx, and Camus. He thought he could lash back at the system he hated so much. The boy wrote of the evils of capital. He grew to hate money. He grew to hate the system. The boy even disliked the people. What could he do? He withdrew into despair. Hate was all he knew. He wanted to die. He felt exiled in an alien place.
The boy rejected religion at a very young age. His first question was why did they have to worship the American god? He was young and silly, he talked to priests about the Egyptian pantheon, he was in 5th grade. The boy was silly. He studied philosophy, the Greeks, the French, the Germans, and he fell in love. Philosophy came to answer so many questions. Maybe it didn't maybe the boy just had more questions now? The boy in fact did. The reason philosophy did so much good for him was that he was finally able to express his pain. He didn't reject god because he just never felt him, but because he came to a logical philosophical conclusion as to said deity's rejection, next he didn't hate America, and its people; no, the boy hated capitalism and the rich. He grew. He studied.
The boy felt pain. He felt alone. He succumbed to often to horrendous escapist binges completely unconcerned with life or death. He used to joke, he would say love is the most beautiful thing in the world. He would say he would give anything for it. The boy believed he would never have someone to hold. Eventually, the boy found companionship, they never stayed around to long. He learned how hollow love was. Love wasn't the grandiose deity the boy had dreamed of. Love was a used rubber, an empty bottle, and a warm empty spot on the bed. A woman had laid there the night before. She was gone today. Life continued its painfully absurd character.
He fought on. The boy read more Camus. He read Nietzsche, Fanon, Celine, Bukowski, Burroughs, Burgess, and more. The boy read less Marx. He learned about psychology, sociology, anthropology, and history. He grew more lucid. The boy read. He wrote. He loved, he hated.
I like this point in his life. I remember it. This is when we met. He was still young and confused. He went on a hajj. He stopped at all the old spots of his youth. He and a good friend went around, older more ready. They conquered in past times where they had failed. They built, they destroyed. They even sparred. The boy came home a little more radical, but still lost.
He followed a strange and bizarre path. He woke up one day in a cell. The boy knew something. He looked at the men who had kidnapped him, and dragged him there. The boy made a vow. He said. If I ever end up in a cell again it will be for the right reasons. At that moment the boy became the man I am today. He promised to stop the excess tyranny of the monsters in power. He knew the path he wanted to take, the details didn't matter, only the end result. He would be free or die.

Paul Loraque's A Reign of a Human Race

you say democracy
and we know that it's tin from Bolivia
copper from Chile
petroleum from Venezuela
sugar from Cuba
raw materials and profits
you say democracy
and it's the annexation of Texas
the hold-up of the Panama Canal
the occupation of Haiti
the colonization of Puerto Rico
the bombing of Guatemala
you say democracy
and it's America to the Yankee
it's the rape of nations
it's Sandino's blood
and Peralte's" crucifixion
you say democracy
and it's the plunder of our wealth
from Hiroshima to Indochina
you spread the slaughter everywhere '
and everywhere ruin
you say democracy
and it's the Ku Klux Klan
o hidden people
inside your own cities
an ogre .is devouring your children
Ubu" from the empire of robots
you let your ravens fly
' from Harlem to Jerusalem
from Wounded Knee to Haiti
from Santo Domingo to Soweto
the people will be waving
the torch of revolution
Night is a tunnel opening on the dawn
Viet-Nam stands like a tree in the storm
the frontier which marks the place of your defeat
history's lessons have no recourse
a footbridge stretches from Asia to Africa
the reign of the white race is ending on earth
and the reign of the peoples in the universe is beginning.
'

Logo Freakout

What is that on your shoes? Why is that bird on your shirt? What makes those jeans two hundred dollars and these twelve? What the fuck? They all made in the same third world sweat shops. The same kids are tortured and maimed. Its all the same crap. Buy more though. Don't stop. The crap will make you happy. So happy, that is their promise. The commercial on the television Says if I buy these jeans I'll be surrounded by beautiful women. They will caress me. They will love me only because I'm wearing the most fashionable crap. A great man once said, “People would rather be buried under a pile of warm shit than live out in the cold air of truth.” Consume, buy just what they are telling you. I'm sure it will really make you happy. I'm sure you really need a fifty dollar pair of socks.
I can't stand it honestly. Work more than forty hours a week saving up for things you will never need. Slaving away for a lifestyle that is completely meaningless. I don't want to be anyone's slave. I don't want to consume anymore. It really doesn't mean anything to me. Coca Cola fuck off!

A Fall

Let us take a walk, follow me to the edge of this building. The climb up here was very tough wasn't it? Did you say a hundred flights to the top? I guess the elevator is still out of order than? I have been up here for a long time. I've been looking down at this city. Don't worry we can't fall off from this ledge. I've fallen enough times in my life, once more wouldn't be so bad anyway. I didn't mean to trouble you my friend. Are you cold? It can be chilly out here exposed to the world. Here take my coat. Its a rather nice one isn't it? I never buy new anymore, I always thrift things like this, you see people are giving up on things to quickly. Consumerism I suppose.
Oh, lets not talk politics, I don't really feel to safe talking about them anymore. People do not look on happily when I get on about them. I do not think that many people agree with me anymore. Look down there, how is your eyesight? Mine is awful, I can only see blurs, I can imagine though. I imagine a scene on the street, I see a young man walking home. He has had a few to drink. He walks down the street, and into an alley. A man robs him, the robbery goes bad, and the poor kid is killed. He bleeds to death in the street all alone. Shot dead for money. Why is money so important? Would you kill for money?
Here, I brought up a bottle of wine for us to share. Of course, you know me to well, it is a red table. I know you prefer a blush, but I just can not get used to that sweet stuff. Look at these beautiful wine glasses, my friend bought me them while she was on vacation to Europe. Very fine glass. She was too kind. I really told her I could hardly accept such a generous offer. I know you think this red wine is bitter, but give it a chance, it will really warm you up. Take a seat, beside me as we look off into the night.
The city is so bright, even so late at night. It blocks out the stars. I believe they call it light pollution. Strange, even our light pollutes. Is the world sick? I think it may be. We shouldn't worry about that too much, oh you've finished your glass, let me refill it. I can hear something. Off in the distance, it is faint but beautiful. Somewhere, someone is trying to find themselves. They are singing. Beautiful voice they have. What I would give to have had a little musical talent. Did you know I had fantasies of being a great artist when I was young? I used to dream of being a performer too. When we were little it was easy to imagine big. Now my perspective shrinks every day. Life is no longer the dream of extravagance. The biggest joy in my life is at the bottle of that bottle. I finish a bottle and fall asleep.
I think I am getting old. Life isn't lovely, it isn't joyous. I just struggle to etch out enough to buy a bottle. I finish the bottle, and then, tomorrow it is all the same. Don't worry, my illusions of potential faded away along time ago. Is this place that wonderful? I can imagine if I lived anywhere else I may have felt the same. Disgusted, defeated, apathetic, and broken. I was broken before I was born. You see, they have a policy in this country, if you are born poor, than you are supposed to stay poor. I am destined to remain as much.
Being poor has its advantages though. If they take everything from you it doesn't amount to much. They could take everything and I wouldn't worry. So, I am here, with you, and an empty bottle. Can I tell you about a dream I had? I dreamt that I had fallen off a skyscraper. I fell hard and fast, but never reached the bottom. Instead I would always just return to me beginning the climb all over again. It confused me greatly. I hear that a person who dreams of falling believes that their life is out of control. Is my life out of control? I left and looked for this building. I found it and climbed to the top. I've been up here every night.
Can I ask you a question? If I fell, to far to try to climb again, would you go on without me? I dreamt, and I also climbed these stairs too many times. How many times can we climb these same stairs, how many falls before we can't get up again? If we both went crashing down what would happen? Maybe I've had to much wine. Maybe I'm sick of the falls. When we were young did you imagine life would involve so many struggles? Did your parents ever tell you that it might never feel worth it, but you have to just keep on going for no other reason, than the only way to stop is to die? No, I guess we aren't told that, we are just told it will be alright, and to keep working at it. I'm tired my friend, maybe its been too many glasses of wine.
I'd get up but I don't have the strength, what is this? You'll help me up? There are so many stairs, you would exhaust yourself climbing down them with me? You are a friend indeed, let us leave, I understand what my dream meant now, we only fall because we are alone, and sometimes someone helping us along is enough to keep us on our feet, and if we both fall, well than hopefully we can find more help. Maybe if everyone would just lookout for each other, and help one another than this world could be a better place.