on ethiopia

or at least the American families version of Ethiopia.

my new sister just came home from ethiopia, which i'm ecstatic for.

all night it's been constant talk about how ethiopia runs and its culture.

so far because there isn't a McDonalds there, that's a bummer.
the reason they're so poor is because they're not exporting (which would probably kill the inhabitants if they did that).
there's a certain grunting if you mention it is socialist-ran.
it's good they have Coca-Cola out there.




i hate American culture, and the American-view of third-world countries.

dear third world countries,
do not attempt to become Westernized, i beg of you.
for the sake of your people, and the sake of your culture and history.

the culture of the West is like a Beast devouring all who do not follow its blood-trail.

i fell in love again...

with humans.
i adore music again.
whenever i play music i fall into a trance.

i love my friends and family...

greatly.


i fell in love with animals again, i am falling in love with trees and nature again.

its beautiful.

its all beautiful.

like all artwork there is splotches which must be taken care of, these splotches sadly inhabit much of the art of life. but the bits that is perfect, is just that; perfect.

the perfect parts just need to learn to get rid of the splotchiness of the art.

no more power.
no more greed over life.

no more trespass.

Ancient Jewish Apocalyptic Metaphors referring to Empire can be fun...

these waves are not crashing
the rocks are not standing still
my eyes do not see
the sun is not rising on the hill.

the typhoons roar on the breast of the earth
the empire rises from the sea,
the waves warned us first,
of the Beast to see

these waves are crying to us
begging us to cease
these waves see the future
of our blood engulfing the sea.

give me.

melancholy. sadness. repetition. misjudgment. apathy. depression, though there really is no real reason to be depressed, thus causing more.

a cycle.

and i'm talking to myself again. imagining the future, go here, do that, run there.

stories, myths, trees, and ants.
faith, hope, love, and courage.

4th of July Poem.

There once was a cat
who laid flat on a mat
Waiting for the brand new kill.

The mouse in the hole
Near the mat, pays the toll
of being the fastest thrill.

The cat hatched a plan
So he may demand
the scrumptious, wonderful fill.

To fill his tummy
food better than "Kitty-Crummy"
With a carcass; oh so filled!

So the cat grabbed some cheese
to slow the mouse's speed
thinking "this plan will work it will".

Tied a string to the Swiss
"It'll never know this hitch!"
Cried the cat, his blood felt chilled.

All the while, all a long
The mouse listened to the song
The cat had been singing still.

"What a dumb furry creature
Whose claws are doughy features
as if i cannot hear this animal's shrill?"

So the mouse formed a plan
to counter the cat's hand
"No no, kitty, you'll be my kill"

After the cat tied the knot
and placed the bait in spot
and then stood by waiting quite still.

The mouse saw the bait
but decided his fate
as he began his deadly skill

They thought to themselves, "when did this all start?
I don't remember when or how, but it was a big part
so I'll continue and bring the pain to him still"

So the mouse got ready,
with the knife he carried
to slit the kitty's gullet (or what he called "dunghill")

The cat's claws were sharpened
with eyes on the target
"Your move, Jack, unless you sit still"

So the mouse stood ready,

and the cat held steady
the string to the cheese to the kill

-

A couple streets down,
In old Baghdad town
March 21st, the people ran thrilled!

Bombs pummeled from the sky
And families blood burned bright
The sun spiders remained frozen still.

-

The cat and the mouse
blew up with the house
For the sake of some nation's "goodwill"

Maybe one day, the cat will stop
thinking "this is mine" and "this cheese can be a prop
for the sake of my pride to be so filled"

Such attachments, and wanting more
Causes theft, fences, and nonstop war
Dear friends,

let's

stop

this

turning

windmill.

is it time?

it happens once a month usually. but lately it's getting more and more. my eye still occasionally twitches. my mental breakdowns seem to be getting different. i don't wanna talk with anyone while it happens. not person-to-person at least. i had someone, but that didn't work out well. i feel selfish. i have G-d, but i long for someone to speak to, in person, without limit. i always try to help people with whatever problems they have, i try at least, engage in discussion, i feel i'm missing out on just talking to someone heart to heart. i haven't had that in a long time, and it always really helped. i heard someone talk about how just talking to someone when you see that they are down is the first step to helping someone, and that something Divine occurs...which i always try to do. but i haven't had it happen to me in a long time, maybe i'm good at faking because i just don't want to bother anyone. and i guess it works.

i feel like a deep well.

sorry for complaining...

The Goose and the Duck.

A wise goose was once wandering around the lake
As it saw two little ducks wading to and fro
The goose sought a conversation to give or take
And the ducks seemed like a good time to show

What wisdom the pure white goose could exhale from his beak
The ducks stared in awe hearing the sayings and prose
The goose towered them both, making the trees feel meek
"Thus all science continues to point, the earth doth grow"

Without a second thought, the method brought forth,
Was digested by older duck who swam in zeal
His curious sister though, thought twice, and in short
Was confused with why the goose falsified the Real

"Mr. Goose, with your wisdom and your words, i feel a bitter loss.."
Stuttered the duckling, trembling and scared,
"Your words are a shovel to the dirt of my heart, why such a cost?
Now, understand this, i mean you well, good sir, but are you from the human fair?"

Confused, and astounded, the goose felt a fire of righteousness within
"Little duck, have you no longing of wisdom in your feathers?
Is your beak filled with jelly, slippery moss, your wing a fin?
Don't be stupid like the fish in the lake, instead arise and be better!"

Humbly, and graciously still, the duck had a Truth to tell
"Sir, i must decline what you have to offer
Though your wisdom is much, it leaves your heart a hard shell
Why not break it away and become as small as a grasshopper?"

"A grasshopper?!" cried the goose "Duckling, dear, are you mad?
Such loathsome creatures who bother me when i rest?
Who do nothing but jump around, more stupid than a cat!
Dear, i must wisely say, stand high with pride! Pucker up your chest!"

The duck quacked, "Sir! My friends are not loathsome, and no mere bother!
They wake you from your rest to play and be in wonder
And they hop because they love their Mother,
Why dilly-dad all day, when we can hop in awe in a loving shudder?"

"Oh dear duck, you have gone quite mad, you see, i worship only i
Only i: the wise
The prophet of rationality, creeds, and philosophies
And whom do you worship, some crude silly effigy?"

Taken aback, hurt by the call, the duck began to cry "Mr. Goose!
How could you talk of Her that way? My love, my Mother
My heart has been torn, with talks of such wisdom Beauty once loose,
Now caged, and hungry, longing for a Lover
Call me stupid and foolish, and call me silly
But, i love my Lover Who holds Grace
A thousand times more is Her love to me!
Mr. Goose, while you deter my love, and run tears down my face
May a Goose answer this small question from a duckling?
Are you in love with something?
For is not love such a power we cannot hold?
Such a power, that only stories are told?
For if there is neither Love nor Care,
We are just some project in a human science fair.
But Mr. Goose, if Love is real then so is She
Because what is Love, other than another impossibility?"

cliche.

For some odd reason, i'm very annoyed right now. With silly things too, that shouldn't even bother being bothered with. i know, though, that it's just because i'm sad of something that will come and it's outcome, but i want it to happen, she's been wanting this for so long.

the fan isn't on. now it is.

i need sound to fill up the hole of silence.

so much has happened within six months to my family. yet, i stay ever the numb-one, but who still can't stop talking about G-d, to where it bothers people and i can tell i maybe shouldn't hang out with them so much, for their sake and their sanity. i can't answer life's daunting questions. i don't know why i lost two siblings within a matter of months. i don't know why i'm effected by this differently than my family. i keep to myself. i wander when i want to think. i don't like confiding in family members which is sad, but i guess normal for my age and immaturity.

i've become lazy. indulging in myself, my wants, and my "needs". my crown has reached it's maximum weight limit atop my head.
i've become the definition of pride.

green trees and long distances call my name...still.

doubt and pride; the horrific duo.

see that figure there?
outside my window,
tap-tap-tapping
against the glass,
"come and play!
come and play!
to laugh, to hate
we can hop around,
snicker all day"
oh but no no!
the lumps of coal!
i try to grab, to toss at his head,
....well this time, it burnt my hand!
and i've yet to topple that mountain,
that silly small climb, oh but i "don't have the time!"

so continuing, in my loving-self-loathing stature
wanting nothing more than to quit being the actor
at the corner of my eye, a finger beckoning, laughs
shouting "you think you're for heaven!"
well i'm not, and i may not even show, but by this loving grace
living in my own heaven
how else could i live this way?
to live a life, trying for You

and kiss me goodnight, hug me, bye bye
i still feel the small want to die
remember when i thought i was done?
i was as calm as a fawn to loud gun
the chambers have some more left,
yet i'm far away to address
the number of the sparks to come
trembling to hard to shun
looking back to my past, such a blur
back in the garden when i just blamed her...

..

We received Josi's favorite things in the mail. i was really hoping there'd be something in it that i could make a necklace with. maybe a small toy. but there wasn't. her favorite clothes, her favorite teddy bear (that my mom got her, because she was scared of the dark and it lights up), and her favorite cup. my mom says it all smells like her and Guatemala. i wouldn't know, i wish i did though. but you can easily see how much she used her teddy bear, and held it.


seeing all the clothes made me think; what did the clothes see during the incident? did her teddy bear see it all happen? does he miss her? does he miss her holding him? do her clothes miss being worn to their fullest extent, keeping her warm during chilly nights?

i never met her, but she haunts my mind. i miss her, yet i never fully knew her; but i still thought of her a sister. one i could finally meet in only two-weeks time, yet the sin of Man had another plan. i wish they all went peacefully, but it shows none of them did.

struggle.


my mom isn't the same.
who would be?
she cries now.

it's usual to see tears.

i wish i could cry easily, but for some reason i can't.

whenever i hurt emotionally, i just either want to hurt myself or if i'm with people, smoke. or both.


it sickens me whenever i see people throw their life away with drugs, over-consumption of alcohol, addiction to work and Mammon, and the inability to love.

why is it that Josi died, and yet a person like me, a horrible...horrible person wrecked with sin, pride, lust, anger, envy, jealousy, and a mountain of negativity, why is it i'm still living?

it doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

and though it's a silly thing, that's why i believe in G-d.


why the fuck
am i still living?

don't even bother.

i don't understand how i am.
laziness is such a fucking crutch honestly, i think if i didn't have a computer my life would be much more interesting. i spout consistent things of spirituality, G-d, Christ, and the Spirit, along with Theology etc, yet i find myself still questioning the very existence of G-d! i don't know why this is, i honestly can't find any logic whatsoever that this world just out-of-nowhere erupted and we're magically all here for no apparent reason, i honestly just cannot accept that. Science may say this and may say that, but Science is not Truth. Science is science.
i find myself wondering "do i fully believe?".
this aches me.
but knowing even people like Mother Teresa was burdened with this gives me hope(but i am most definitely not like Mother Teresa)...

Nevertheless i trudge on, ridden with spiritual-pride to where i just want to fucking rip my hair out. the ego is such a horrible fucking beast.
one could say Ego is Satan.
but that one fellow who said that could be wrong, i don't know.

i dream of becoming a prophet, seeing and/or talking to G-d...who the fuck does that?
People who are spiritually-prideful that's who.
People like me.
i'm a horrible person burdened with lust, pride, envy, among all other sins; G-d loves me, but He/She surely doesn't want to use me to spread Love.

i talk like i know, when i truly don't know anything!
(there are so many "i"s in here it disgusts me)

and then!
for months now, since last June, i've consistently been thinking about celibacy. it's ridiculous because, i honestly argue with myself about celibacy/no celibacy. i honestly want a relationship(which this is really bothering me), but i have such stupid standards because of how i live, my idiocy, etc etc etc etc; all the while trying to fight off lust while consistently thinking of celibacy!
plus i have no job, and a confused as hell Follower of Christ.

do i sound like a fine wonderful guy for a relationship?
exactly, thus celibacy rings intrigue to me, because of how i am, but i want relationship so badly it sickens me.

i'm sorry...

8 Years of Silliness. Saying goodbye to a King who ended up a Jester.

Today (as i write), January 19th 2009, is the last day of Bush's presidency. Many Republicans, Conservatives, and Libertarians (although he wasn't as much a hero for them as Reagan) are sad today; many Democrats, Liberals, Socialists, and even Anarchists are very happy and excited about the Obama presidency (i'm not going to lie - even i am!).

Bush has gone down as "worst president in the history of the United States", and it's no wonder, nor surprise.

An economy circling the drain, wars across the Middle East, the Katrina disaster, the Gaza Strip getting blown to bits by American bombs... it's as if the list of faults never ends.

Not only have 4,229[1] US serviceman died in the Iraq war, and 640 in Afghanistan, the news also seems to forget the tremendous amount of Iraqi and Afghanistan civilians who have died since the invasions, either by the US, trigger-happy religious fanatics who twist the Islamic religion into a hateful creed, or as a result of the damages done by either/or (i. e. the destruction of water and electric systems). Sadly, there is no known death count for these poor people, according to a wonderful General who insists "we don't do body counts".

-The documented civilian death toll in Iraq is somewhere between 90,442 – 98,731[2]. Sadly, the number isn't even known for Afghanistan. Professor Marc Herold wonders, "What caused the documented high level of civilian casualties -- 3,000 - 3,400 [October 7, 2001 through March 2002] civilian deaths -- in the U.S. air war upon Afghanistan?” As he clarifies, “The explanation is the apparent willingness of U.S. military strategists to fire missiles into and drop bombs upon, heavily populated areas of Afghanistan."[3]

But!
As a fellow, i couldn't be have been happier with Bush’s presidency. Face it - he was a HORRIBLE liar, unlike most (if not all) of the former American presidents. People immediately knew something was wrong with the Iraq war, and more. Imagine if Clinton, a great liar, had been in office; we'd still be in the same darn pickle, yet most citizens would have been content. Sure, some questions would arise, but Clinton knew how to rally people, how to talk to people, as did Wilson, FDR, JFK, Washington, etc etc. Bush, on the other hand, was a Texas-born and bred man, you could tell. He didn't enjoy lying... he blinked far too much. The public knew something was going on, judging by merely his posture.

This jester of a fellow who was given the title “King of the Courts” was exactly that. This jester had the title, not the power. We know who the real King(s) of the courts were; from Cheney to the heads of the WTO, so on and so forth. You need only read the Orwell's prequel to 1984 entitled, "Project for the New American Century" where you find out wonderful plans for a teddy-bear world domination: teddy bears with guns, utter confusion, and the mindset of "protecting America by the invasion of other countries". The Project just needed someone like that teddy bear - someone lovable, silly, outgoing. By all means, they wanted a child. In comes this whipper-snapper, son of the Daddy Bush, strict and homey Conservative, who was raised within the ins-and-outs of politics, and could get away with quite a lot of things... precisely like a spoiled child.

Just about everyone knows that Cheney was the fellow behind the whole 8-year ordeal. He was just holding the piñata-Bush by the stick, and allowing the liberals to bat him over and over again. Cheney received some of the bats, but simply by the accident of him getting too close. And now after two long terms, the candy has finally fallen out of the piñata, and the liberals are ecstatic about the Obama candy! Bush's reputation as a politician has been pinned as "just as bad as Hitler" (which i personally believe is ridiculous and petty) and "the worst president in the history of the USA", which is some pretty tough stuff to live with; when the whole time, we (anarchists, socialists, radicals, etc) know Bush wasn't in control - he was the puppet, and a wonderful one for our case, because of how horrible he was as a puppet!

Because of him, i state again, the people now know the lies used for the Iraq War. Folks are even more curious if the Afghanistan War was done the right way, with the economy going ka-put, people are rethinking the infallibility of the "glorious" dog-eat-dog capitalism that Americans hold so closely to their (lack-of) hearts. Now, more and more groups are uniting against oppression by US imperialism, grass-roots movements are becoming stronger (strong enough to bring forth a President!), more than ever though, now the world truly knows the war machine that America is, was, and continues to be because of Bush and his sheer inability to lie. One might say his stupidity has made the world more knowledgeable of America's imperialism (but i don't like to call anyone stupid - yes, even him).

What i'm trying to say is this - we should be thankful for Bush, thankful for how he is/was, and thank goodness that it wasn't anyone like Clinton or Wilson in office during this time. We all know how good of a talker Clinton was! Many people have apparently forgotten or just didn't know of Clinton bombing Sudan, Yugoslavia, and civilian targets in Kosovo among others, or how Clinton was a big assistant in the creation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (which crippled Mexico's economy and therefore destroyed the lives of Mexicans - just ask the Zapatistas).

Or what about Wilson? The man was a racist who was in close with the KKK! He convinced America and Congress to participate in World War 1, where there was absolutely NO good reason to be in that war, except for a possible plan by Wilson for a World Government![4] And let's not forget how Wilson forced Germany to sign the Treaty of Versailles which sent Germany into a horrific depression, which many believe is a prominent reason behind the rising of Hitler. But Wilson had to force the Treaty on Germany (though Germany was defending an ally during the war), in order to show American dominance, like a bully who beat up a kid and decided to pull off his toes for kicks.

Why is it that they, among many other leaders, were able to get away with all of this? There really is no other explanation than they were amazing speakers.

Now comes the question, what about Obama?

Is he not a wonderful speaker? Can't he gather people to his cause with a single, well-written speech?

Now, i'm not saying he's a horrible person, nor am i saying he is a wonderful person! So far, everything he is saying sounds reasonably good and hopeful, but does that mean there is no need for us to keep an ever-watchful eye on him? Certainly not. If anything, we must keep vigilant tabs on him. He is going to screw up no matter what, and we absolutely must hold him accountable. We must be sure that we do not become apathetic, thinking "Obama is going to change everything for the good". If so, what change is there? We must make sure he doesn't get away with things like Clinton, Wilson, and so on, simply because he is a good speaker. I personally have a bit of hope in Obama, but not enough to sit back and become complacent.

Never forget that all power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Be thankful for Bush and his incapacity to lie, and be cautious in regards to how excellent Obama is at talking.

Realize that the fight against Power is far from over.
Know that Community-building is always stronger than any presidential policy.

Comrades, we are here in a new year, and an old, flawed, crooked machine based on repression still lives on, but you can hear the gears screaming for oil, smell the blood-rust from the metal; the bones are lacking protein, fuel is running out, and it's falling apart. So what should we do to this machine?

Let's wrench it to the ground.




[1] - antiwar.org
[2] - http://www.iraqbodycount.org/database/
[3] - http://cursor.org/stories/civilian_deaths.htm
[4] - http://www.threeworldwars.com/world-war-1/ww1-2.htm

Dec. 5th: Josi Azhderian 2003-2008 Rest In Peace...

my family and i have been adopting this beautiful little girl for more than the past year from Guatemala. and though i've never met her, i loved her as my little sister because she was and is, just as much as my other sisters and brothers. we were waiting for her to come home in three weeks. she was going to be the best Christmas present ever. in three weeks i was going to hold her. it was going so smoothly in the adopting, to the point where it was just unreal, as if G-d was setting things into place so easily. we just received her birth certificate, she was no longer an orphan, she was my sister, my mother's daughter, and my siblings new sister.

two nights ago though, Dec. 5th, i found out the most horrible news i have ever heard in my life. i was getting ready to eat some rice at nick's house after he just finished making himself and jehiah pasta. we were playing a show that night. i decided i need to call my mother to let her know i was spending the night at nicks that night, yes i live with my family still. i called her. it at first sounded like she wasn't there. she asked where i was,
"i'm at nicks house."
"okay"
"mom, is everything okay?"
"robby, something really bad happened"
"what?"
"josi was murdered"
"what?!"
i don't really remember anything, other than me rushing outside, dropping jehiah's cellphone, me falling into holding me knees. first came confusion. then disbelief. then realization. then the tears. it was unreal. it still is.
i wanted to destroy something. punch my fist into a wall until i couldn't feel it anymore. bash my head into concrete. jump off a cliff. anything painful. i wanted the physical pain to eliminate my emotional pain, my longing for her to be alive.
i told nick and jehiah what happened. they were in shock and disbelief as well. jehiah and nick kept telling me that if i didn't want to play the show, we didn't have to. i insisted that we play the show, for me to let out my rage. i've never felt so much anger inside me.
anger towards civilization. towards the Guatemalan government for being so ridiculous as to having such a stupid police force, and for how they treat their orphans. anger towards the person who did this for refusing to listen to his heart, refusing to listen to G-d telling him to stop. anger towards the evil one, may G-d murder and torture the one who influenced this person to do this, the one named Satan.
after talking with my amazing friends, and receiving early Xmas gifts which helped. we left for the show.

we arrived. we set up. we played. we were the second band to play.
i gave a speech about Josi, dedicating our set to her, and reminding everyone that no matter what, violence is never the answer.
the set started when i hammered my floor tom and snare into the ground with the repetitive slam 3 times, enter in nick, enter in jehiah, 4 more times, with air between each smash. the song began. my heart was beating as ferocious as ever. beating with sorrow turning into anger and back into sorrow in a circle. Rage into Love. Love into Rage. i've never played like this. i couldn't control what i was doing. i wasn't thinking. i was destroying whatever beats or notes i possibly could. i ended up bleeding, i was content with that. i wished i bled more. i wished i cried more.

My beautiful little sister Josi, whom i was never able to hold. Was three years old when she was murdered.
She is now up with Christ, dancing with the angels, she was never an orphan, she had a family, but more importantly she had G-d, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. YHWH, Christ, and Spirit.
Josi is now gone from this dying world, living now in a world of Love.


please give your prayers to my family, to Josi's birth-mother, to Josi's now-deceased Foster Family.

Thanksgiving.

I was just lectured on about how America was founded as a Christian Nation, with Christian Principles, for the People, by the People. How America was founded on Free Speech and Freedom of Religion.
I've honestly never had so many thoughts through my head about politics and history in random ten-minute hoot of words.
I stood, more-so leaning on a counter, sipping my coffee while this man talked. I could tell he was a good man, with a good heart. He was from Africa. He had quite a lot to say about America, good things, and a lot to say about other countries of the world, bad things. He also talked about 'racist' against Caucasians America is. He talked about certain horrible leaders of certain horrible nations. He talked of how wonderful the American economy is and that the reason why so many nations hate America is because of Jealousy.
They kept trying to drag me in, saying things that they know arouses my thought, makes my blood-boil, and if i think about it long enough it has potential to bring tears to my eyes. My mother obviously knows my political stand-point on subjects, and that if i even mention at all about what i believe in I'd be laughed and ridiculed in a second, so she is silent as well.
The man continued to talk.
Telling me, it's good i have a point of view, but i need to think outside the box and realize that America is the best and the most generously giving country out of the whole world, and all other countries hate us because of that, including the place he was born in.
I stood there, quiet.
I can hear them now...laughing in the back.

-With a confused look at the moth-

hello there Cedar-Ant blog-thingy, i haven't posted on here in awhile.

I'm honestly curious if anyone reads this or not?
But then at the same time, I sort of don't care, because this sort of place has become a nice little 'rant' section in my life where no one can demand of me to shut-up. its sad, isn't it? how the public of the world has reduced to such fear of each other's neighbor, the fear of having true honesty of how one feels towards politics, the world, love, society, religion, so on and so forth to where we go on blogging about. sort of hoping people will read, and understand, and at the same time for certain posts, hoping they don't understand. in the end we just want to be heard, we just want to be loved. it seems like that is the only purpose to being here: to be loved.

i've been having quite a whirlwind of emotions lately, oh lust and the desire of love is such a curse isn't it? i've ended up a Joseph with the intention of succeeding as he did, but i failed, unlike he who just got his tunic torn, i received that tear and worse, when i knew beforehand that would happen as well! hope can be a beautiful angel at times, when the hope is for love and life, yet it can also be a ferocious demon promising love with you getting fooled and falling into a hole. The hope this time, was one of lust, i admit, and like most adventures with lust you end up bruised with the feeling of being taken advantage of. confused with the intense feeling of loneliness i slowly stopped the infatuation of her, though it rises from time to time, i can ease it off allow myself to know "this is only an emotion, it will pass".

which helps, though now, again, im stuck in such a silly debate with myself continually, and for how young and immature i am, all about the pros and cons of celibacy and relationship. And this happens all the while i am having infatuation with certain womyn, womyn which i know would never be interested in me. I'm not artsy, i'm not intelligent, i like walking everywhere, i'm not really crazy about getting my license(19yrs old, sad huh?), i'm usually confused, i stare at the ground a lot, i have a beard, talking about politics infuriates me, and talking about G-d makes me happy and i feel movement, and i like to write stuff in my notebook a lot which i don't want anyone looking at. <- who wants that? and at the same time, feeling extreme wanderlust. i really REALLY want to be back on a Greyhound bus going somewhere I've never been before, meeting folks i've never met before, and seeing and trusting G-d in ways that i never thought possible. i really miss being overjoyed at the sight of a quarter. nowadays i spend my time reading, drinking coffee, being on the damn internet, and jobhunting. i feel horrid. i miss the Mystery of whether or not you'll eat. i feel as if i've become such a different person than how i was when i stepped off that bus back into a place where i grew up, though i received it as a new and unknown territory. i was truly happy with that Mystery combined with a carefree attitude and with ultimate trust in the Provider. i haven't written a poem in awhile...which worries me. steal me.
"Come quick, you Light that knows no evening"

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.

whilst i scratch thy face...

And i still want to start a funk/rock/buzzcocks-like punk band. With influences ranging from The (International) Noise Conspiracy, Buzzcocks, Poppy/techno Chumbawamba, the Clash and some good ole funk.

We already have a drummer, a singer, and a bassist, though no guitar.
you should assist?

...and i still need to get a tambourine...hmm

RambleShambles

It's sort of silly how folks turn on you.
Or maybe its just my paranoia? <-- most likely that.

Eh i don't know.

My life is sort of in "waiting" stage right now. I feel very apathetic and lazy. I'm looking for a job. Though if/once i get one, I'm gonna hate it...very much. Unless its a coffee shop, constant caffeine helps boredom and repetition. i don't know though, i found a good dumpster to eat out of, but the constant fact that the band im in is supposed to be going on tour in January/February, and i have to pay my dues continually beat my head in. Don't get me wrong, i love touring and playing music....but i fucking hate working.
^^^
See lazy, horrible person i know.

So I'm basically in the waiting stage, as in wondering if this band, Subvert, will actually go anywhere, or if this is just some local band that will dissolve into a "hey, are we still together?" break-up. I'm really enjoying the new direction we're taking, getting more and more into individualistic sounds than trying to rip off Leftover Crack/Choking Victim, honestly i can't stand anything "Crack Rock" it's just too.....i don't know...lame.
I guess my parents were right, I grew out of punk.

All i really listen to now is mewithoutYou, the Psalters, Against Me!, Refused, Snapcase, Sinead O Connor's 'Theology' cd, the Clash, and some occasional folk bands i've heard lately. But I have really gotten into this new hardcore band Defeater. The lyrics are actually heart-wrenching, 'Blessed Burden' strikes a nerve every time i hear it.

It's sort of nice not hearing angry Cockney accents screaming in my ear with buzzsaw like guitars, and fumbling snare sounds. Though I still enjoy hearing Flux of Pink Indians and Dirt once in awhile.


If Subvert gets anywhere, or even if we are given a chance, then that'd be awesome! Living the dream, etc etc.
but if not, then I can probably see myself just roaming for a bit, probably try to stay at Simple Way, Reba Place, or Bruderhoff, or maybe go help out with the MCC or a Catholic Workers place. That or start up a new Plowshare Movement, if you don't know about them, go look it up, seriously, they rule. Direct Action...for peace....with nuns and priests...its pretty epic.

So I'm still in the "waiting" phase as i've already stated.
I need to find a job. Hopefully Subvert gets somewhere. I really do enjoy playing music with my best friends, it's basically that or wander.

And i think me having a beard is halting this whole getting a job thing.
But i do love it.

So I need to make money, and considering the American economy, jobs are going down the toilet, so, do you need anything to be done around your house? backyard? or anything? any help whatsoever?

I hope you have a good day, and that G-d warms your heart better than coffee does