The Poetry Marathon

The fusion of action must be realized in the historical knowledge.

This incomplete mythical world regulates the irreversible power of time.

Only the negation of culture can preserve its level of culture.

The spectacle subjects man to his true reflection…

The spectacle demands passive acceptance…

The spectacle unifies a great diversity…

Emancipation from manipulation,

in clinical charts of schizophrenia,

An understood abuse of the world vision.

Expressions improve. With a completely different theory. A false consciousness of critique.

We begin in the slow and intangible formation.

The social appropriation of time, itself, above cyclical time.

Eternity is internal.

The entire cosmic order is in fact realized within its frontiers.

As with the problem of society, its coherence, is what history should consist of.

These events have taught us the surprise of the rationality we may later detect.

Manifestation hidden.

In processes, the problem becomes more than conception.

It adds up into an already given, singular contradiction.

Obviously impossible,

this system of laws,

both arbitrary & indefinite.

Nothing must remain outside. Suspended in mid air. Terminating in the end of history…

Unicellular organisms holding up these multicellular forms where a few decades ago biological evolution held up human kind.

These words are truer than electromagnetic remorseless industrialism.

These Western changes are omnipotent.

These instutionalized gods are within reason.

fixed

frozen

ancient

prejudices

Swept away as new ones formed. Antiquated before they ossify. Solids melt into air. Holiness profaned.

Given birth to a history it thought to have concocted.

Philosophy which is more than philosophy.

Carry them both together towards a new and brilliant society.

Ethiopia carved out of red rock. Churches of Christ ravaged by drought. A veritable strong hold of famine. Gold wax dusting rainbows as cars rumble over inaccessible roads…

Living repositories of faith carved into a mountain to undulate twelve churches holding ritualistic aspirations…

(the chill of chanting swaying priests cloaked in antique finery as a drum beats out the footsteps of Jesus himself)

Solomon, Sheba, Emblems, Tablets, shine golden in the rising sun blessing the starving who pick seeds from the earth for Christmas dinner.

They are proud of their poor crosses bared stoically as their hungry eyes dream in fruitful trees.

Tongue in mouth.

Glory in misery.

Substance in shadows.

there is no more theatre

there is no more spectacle

there is no more illusion

there is no more stage

everything has become exposed

raw

slightly visible and immediately transparent

inexorable

information light filled and communicative

the drama of alienation is no longer

ecstasy takes its place

our systems have the irreversibility of mythological production

a superior irony…

men and gods were not separated but instead seduced-

fire

water

water

fire

our limits in geographic space have explored the confines of the planet imploding the movement ceaselessly and without effort

there really is nothing more than man and his genitalia and his passions and his humors and his germs

the landscape as a baroque politic advertising within the disappearance of public space

and what if reality dissolves here and now? into the more real than real? if history were without a past? if seduction followed love?

and if all this were always exciting and despairing or absolutely nothing at all!

the truth against illusion…

The Russian arms are bought with gold smuggled through Spain, over the Pyrenees mountains.

Our comrades are of the utmost importance. Heil Hitler.

We know that common jealousies are of secondary importance to fear. We know that capitalist schemes feast on fascist supplies. We know that the front line of vanguard revolutionary defense is for ourselves as much as for them…

7 months later goldman meets rocker at anarchist gatherings

It was then I saw the treacherous critics playing their parts leaving me searching for a place to bury actual facts. Leaving me looking to protect us all from condemnation at the hands of disastrous collaboration.

Can you say you ALWAYS remain truthful to your ideas?

Can you say you PROMISE to understand our indignation perfectly?

Can you say you WILLINGLY breach your principles?

The human struggle is on fire. The last war was for the purpose of ending war. Historical anarchist movements seek to liberate women. Emancipate our pussies. Cultural and political concerns are inseparable.

… those were naïve days when there was still hope. like babes in woods we were dreaming of all the work we could accomplish. it was all so long ago …

I have a hunch that the comrades will support the war. But, I will not be deceived by this. I will not be blinded alongside the masses as their useless slogans strengthen imperialism. I am inclined to believe I stand alone in my protest. I reiterate more than ever my opposition.

Yuppie zombie cults with gurus in their eyes. No thinking. No perception. No meaning.

Are you waiting for the revolution? An approved uprising? Turning the wheel of history to nothing more than mutated nightmares of the State…

I dream of a chaos ashram where yellow turbans are splashed with gasoline from burnt out cars. The sodomy is barren as we jump start the burned out pick-up truck and pick our teeth in the autonomous zone.

My border area permits allow me to roam from Bengal to the Ganges. From the Sahara to the Niger Delta. From Kali to Yuga… algae stains have ruined my tongue as it swells dripping with monsoon clouds and the ceiling fan splatters bloody slimy vomit onto the mirror, skewing my reflections!

Her DNA sits in the garbage post abortion as he licks his lizard tongue over fresh meat hissing,

WE ARE ALL MURDER.

Do we not want to stand on the grounds of abolished laws and feel priests guts squish between our toes? Do we not want to confront THE power?

The wilderness, the tribes, the hunger, the taboos, are all paradise,

even now…

Reappear, you men of war, recreating the machine. Resisting technological liberation.

Economic violence is the fault of the hunted animal confused with primitive breeding. The sea, perhaps, in its absolute movement, records the history of nomads?

We have no history. Only geography…

Spoken in either direction, we appropriate the machine, using war as a supplement, an idea, rather than, a direct object. We trace creative escape lines. We build the conditions that make the State.

Flows and currents.

Appropriated independence.

Necessary weapons.

War does not want the battle as its object. The machine does not want war as its purpose. They are simply necessary results. The mutation of the shield is communal. Our existence constructs the elements of the state built war machine…

Here stands the reluctant petty bourgeoisie.

Corrupt with silly amusements.

Over taken with spiritless commandments.

There stands the worker.

Defeated and lost with no class consciousness.

Blowing to and from under the mighty political sails of big capitalism.

Fascism as a special characteristic cleared out in fear of socialism. Spaced out in hope of becoming masters of the State…

but, democracy, she whispers, still clinging to indoctrinated teachings-

For all intents and purposes this campaign succeeds.

For all reason and sanity it supports capitalism.

For all who know no better there is no other way.

These workers can not easily foster illusion against defeat.

Rife with instigation.

Despotic methods rule with fear keeping power.

social slavery

contradictory disguises

social evolution

Standing armies obey, Fierce complicated struggles, The making of the nations was less civilized.

Democracy is organization for the primitive man.

I am going to rub a magic potion into my skin

&

I am going to gyrate with a magic lamp

&

I am going to take it all back to the deserts Jesus wandered prophesying on the lost people who birth lost generations who are found in dusty warehouses in major cities where revolution is bred from dust particles…

As if I have fallen, flew, waken, clawed up a cliff before the dream shuts my heavy lids.

As if you can shrink down, glowing worm like, crying love versions as I slide myself down your throat.

I am going to blow you

&

I am going to shock your mind

&

I am going to move us with fantastical love…

As if the audience tells you it is impossible.

As if everyone tonight is happy making someone smile as they light their smoke.

Tell me what you need?

More-

sisters, brothers, raving mad, dope, pills, sex, dropping, words, streets, broken barriers, dressed up ladies, sticky juices, flowing, jumping, hysterical, broken, existence

And…

The king can rule where woman and man lived.

The worker can profit where six million Vietnamese & Jews were held guilty for their own destruction.

The systems of government can become a race of super elite killing theories.

France/Germany/America/England/China/Russia/Bolivia/Nigeria/Algeria/Spain/Italy

Are you interested in cocks with guns?

Of free stores with free food?

Paradise now?

Manifested gatherings giving birth to exhibited ends of destruction.

The atomic death tests a new world without bureaucracy. Without technology. Without a profit motive.

Long live the living. The people existing without violence. Providing their own desires. Destructively delirious with the exchange of information…

And-

at the full moon we bathed in voltaire’s garden

at the full moon we ate with frankenstein in brooklyn

at the full moon we smoked a joint in amsterdam

at the full moon we flew to marrakech

at the full moon we lifted the police up to sing and dance

We learned to breathe again. We learned to touch again. We learned to feel again…

The book of the living people was written and as its inscription we cried out-

THIS IS THE DAWNING OF TOTAL ANARCHY!