This title is called: Are you Kidding ME?!

A couple days ago I saw this in the L.A. Times::

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-usafghan10-2008oct10,1,3401113.story

Apparently the US is now going to start training Afghan militias to bring order to the crippled country (well who on Earth caused this crippling?). Because when I think "order" I immediately think "militias", not government (congratulations an Anarchist just stated that there is more order in government than militia control, minus 5000 Anarchy points), not democracy.

And take a look at this!
not only did I GOL out loud, but I actually LOLed out loud (am i hip yet internet?):


"Taliban spokesman Zabiullah Mujahid leads the way in Afghanistan. Defense chief Robert Gates said the U.S. would consider reconciling with the group as part of an exit strategy."

Okay, okay, maybe I'm overreacting a bit, I just thought that it was the Taliban we were fighting, because it was them who bombed the towers right? And I thought we were liberating Afghan from the Taliban insurgents that put womyn through horrible laws, not allowing them to talk, show their face, etc etc, and that the Taliban were those radical Islamic folk that hated everyone except Allah? So, i mean there's nothing wrong with working with people that some folks considered as worse as the Nazis...right?

Just know, in 30 years from now, if something else gets blown up by folks from Afghanistan or somewhere else in the Middle East that were trained to "defeat terrorism" or "communism" or whatever the hell the scare is now, you'll know why.

Remember when those commie-tree hugging-pinkos brought up the idea some years ago that maybe we should try diplomacy and talking with the Taliban and Saddam? And our glorious leader stated, without a pause, "i don't talk to terrorists". But now we know, he'd rather work with them, than talk with them, what a humble fellow...(I wonder if they converse using sign language? Well no, because i guess sign language is still a form of talk).


So dear dead souls of Afghanistan, I wish to apologize. While I didn't give the command, I stood idly by, confused, not acting out of love. I didn't act. I was too young to know that those bright light images shown on the television were bombs that were tearing apart your houses, bombs that killed your friends, your loves, your lives. The bombs were dropped for the sake of revenge without intellect, revenge without a heart, I now know, revenge is a curse. Never a blessing. Revenge hurts. Forgiveness heals. I know it will be a long time until you will be able to rest peacefully in the arms of G-d or Allah, whatever Loves name be, just know I'm so so sorry. Words cannot express how I feel I should have died, not you. Not your children, not your parents, not your wife, not your husband. The air strikes may have killed you physically, but your life, and your poetry continue.
















Your tears break dams around the West's heart.

If Aristophanes Could Kill...

"It could be dangerous Art as a real threat" - Refused 'Protest Song '68'

"Art is Individualism, and Individualism is a disturbing and disintegrating force. Therein lies its immense value. For what it seeks to disturb is monotony of type, slavery of custom, tyranny of habit, and the reduction of man to the level of machine" - 'Soul Of A Man Under Socialism' Oscar Wilde.

Imagine a world, with authority on its knees, pleading for survival. Not those in control, but control itself, not those who feed the machines, like you and like me, but the machines themselves. Our war is against Power. The Power that denies a soul to humanity. The Power that enslaves the oppressed to "lack of" and the oppressors to an "addiction of". The Power that continues its war against its ultimate enemies; Thought and Art.

Through Art we find the world. We find the downtrodden, the poor, the weak, the hungry, the screamer, and the fields. We find the factories, the banks, the wealth. Through Art we find the aesthetics of life, along the confusion, hurt, and surprises.

In Art, i mean, sincerely, Thought put into action. Either by pencil, song, film, brush, spoken-word, stencils, those cans that go 'ding-ding' when shaken, and with every motion of life, every thought, every action, every word, we create our own poetry.

With Art we have the ability to destroy the world, in order to create it yet again, though this time the light at the end of the tunnel will become our sun, our light, our guide towards progress; no longer will the light be a "hope" for "change" as some politicians with excellent status and a knack for manipulation say.

We will never reach Utopia, Progress is Utopia!
Real Progress, not some farce saying by some rich fellow willing to sell you chains and proclaim them "ballot!".

Art breeds Progress.
Through the thought-provoking images of Van Gogh, the politico-satirical comedies of Aristophanes, the stories, plays, and essays by Wilde, the Cabaret musicians that laughed at hierarchy and jabbed at the heart of Mammon, the Jesters that were martyred for the sake of comedic-truth by using jest to tear down the gold in the crown to show the dried blood forming around the rubies, the brave women that didn't care about the laws and continued to draw, to paint, to breathe, to live.

Through Art we were able to understand the Nihilists in Russia, the pathetic apathy of the rich, the absurdity of war, the beauty of nature undisturbed by Man and concrete, the longing for freedom and autonomy, the stupidity of power and capitalism alike.

Now, today, where is that Art? All Art is being choked to death by scenes and clubs creating rules, regulations, when all Art is is individualistic means to express, to ask, and to change.
Art is supposed to break the chains, not adhere to them.

Politicians are not the leaders of the world, those continually engaged in absolute Art are the leaders.
Artists like Mother Teresa, Gandhi, George Orwell, Marcos, Aldous Huxley, Arundhati Roy, Oscar Wilde, Joe Strummer, Cesar Chavez, Ammon Hennacy, Peter Kropotkin, Dorothy Day, Emma Goldman, and millions more, today, yesterday, tomorrow. The Knowns and the Unknowns.

You don't have to know how to sing or draw or write or paint to be an artist.
Putting Thought into Action is Art.

Embrace Art, and unleash it upon those in Power, upon those in fear, upon those you love, upon the haves and have-nots, upon the world.

The World is a canvas, your thoughts are the paint, and your actions are the brush.

Honestly? No one reads this thing, so why worry...right?

I hate the punk scene.
I, robby.

I hate scenes, they do nothing but cause division.

"Up the punks" is the exact same rhetoric as "up the skins", "up the squatters", "up the crust", "up the indie", etc etc.
It
Is
the
same.
I'm sick of hearing punks talking shit on crusts, and druggies talking shit on straight-edge kids, and straight-edge kids talking shit on druggies, and indie kids talking shit on metal, etc etc.

When the scene is more important than a message, there is surely a problem.
When a kid who spouts peace, love, and brotherhood among humyns owns a gun, there is surely a problem.
When one complains of this or that band "selling out" simply because of little tiny things, because they didn't live up to that certain person's standards, there is a problem.
When someone spouts about how one is inferior to another based on sex, scene, religion, non-religion, musical taste, substance-taking, non-substance taking, there is surely a problem.

People who are talking against fascism are spouting consistent fascistic-like stand points.
People are complaining about a speck in one's eye, whilst a plank is in their own. (myself included, no need for me to spout ego-centrism, considering it is false, ego is false, ego is false and brings nothing but hurt.)
People point the finger and judge, but sometimes that finger belongs in front of a mirror (myself definitely included, especially at the moment)

I want to crawl onto some mountain and never leave.


Punk isn't a religion, seriously, it is music nothing else.

Why is this bothering me so much??

DIY is cool, though it becomes to focused on one's self.
Humyns are meant to be co-dependent, working together in community.
Individualist hymns do some good if you want a spirit booster, but too much and it becomes a cult where you worship that floating brown piece in your bowl with a hole to the sewers, conveniently located next to sink, or sometimes in some other place.

I'm done with individualism.
I'm done with violence.
I'm done with slogans.
I'm done with scenes.

Music is supposed to set us free, so why on earth are we trying to box it up? Give it rules? We act as though it's some sort of vampire, and if it does wrong, that we must get that darn stake.

Bands are not heroes.
Bandmembers are not gods.
Musicians search for the answers, consistently ask questions, and we do NOT have the answers.
Bands are regular people.
Bands have mistakes, loves, and pains.
Look up to certain aspects of this band or that, but if you just wish to be in total and complete awe of them, listen to every word they say as if it is from G-d's lips, then, my friend, you will be disappointed.

I love you.
I love my friends.
I love my enemies.
I love my family.
I want nothing bad to happen to anyone.

I only want to simply point my finger at the mirror, instead of just pointing it at someone else.
Take me away, someone.

The midwest calls for me.
That mountain is still begging for me to lay upon its rocks.
Southern Ireland's whispers are still ringing in my ears.
Repetition is creeping.
Apathy just walked right through my doorway and waved.
Melancholy has simply become engraved upon me as some tattoo.
I judge way too much, it's a damn curse.
I need to stop being Adam, and quit blaming Eve, it is MY fault.
I'm a failure, wrapped in my own confusion, and alas! I've caused another confusion i believe, risking something dear to me, causing one other to wrapped in confusion, because i just can't keep it to myself.
I'm too loudmouthed.
I'm too prideful.
I want to give nothing but love, but i do nothing but give despair, anger, absurdity, and grief.
It's time i shutup.

Spit on me when you see me next.
if not,
then please
steal me.