Karl Marx

"Driven by the contradictory demands of his situation, and being at the same time, like a juggler, under the necessity of keeping the public gaze on himself, as Napoleon‘s successor, by springing constant surprises – that is to say, under the necessity of arranging a coup d‘état in miniature every day – Bonaparte throws the whole bourgeois economy into confusion, violates everything that seemed inviolable to the Revolution of 1848, makes some tolerant of revolution and makes others lust for it, and produces anarchy in the name of order, while at the same time stripping the entire state machinery of its halo, profaning it and making it at once loathsome and ridiculous. The cult of the Holy Tunic of Trier11 he duplicates in Paris in the cult of the Napoleonic imperial mantle. But when the imperial mantle finally falls on the shoulders of Louis Bonaparte, the bronze statue of Napoleon will come crashing down from the top of the Vendôme Column."

 From:The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte by Karl Marx

A limerick for 45…

There once was a man from New York City
Who wanted to make the world shitty
I'll take a big dump
For my name is Trump
And all the deplorables worship me

Sensory Overload

You still haunt my dreams
Mad at me for what I done
Me wishing you would forgive me
Wanting to tell you how wrong I was
But I awake and once again all my senses have lied to me

My eyes are constantly deceiving me
I've seen your face in so many people
Everywhere I go, it's always you
It's gotten so bad that if I were to actually see you
I wouldn’t believe my eyes

My ears still ring your songs
As I play every sad song over and over again
Wallowing in sorrow and self pity
Trying to find the words that some singer wrote
That will bring you back

I can still taste your sweet kiss
Soft and smiling
Sensual and passionate
Sometimes marked by the cigarettes we hated
But now it is all dry ashes I taste

Sage and weed
The smell of the ocean
A freshly cooked meal
All bring me back to you
All make me miss you 

When my skin feels a freezing chill
Or a warm breeze
I think of you
Your soft touch
As we held each other

Really I can't escape you
I still torture myself with the thought of you
I know I should move on
Let go, but nothing compares to you
And my mind and body won't let go

Never Forget?

They often say not to forget
9/11 oh how they wept
Two towers fell
Two thousand died
Wars to come they justified
Bomb Afghans
Bomb Iraq
Fight and fight, another attack

Now we come home
Commit suicide
We try to run
We try to hide
But shame and trauma are deep within
The blood stained flag can’t cover it
But here’s some pills and take some drugs
Thanks for being corporate America’s thugs

While you raged 
While you wailed
They stole our money
They made their way
The cost of war is at 5 trillion
Every day another billion
Who cares about schools or healthcare
A fraction of the cost but funding nowhere

They tell you again not to forget
They only tell you some of it
Forget the innocent 
Forget the lies
Don’t worry about foreigners 
“They deserved to die”
Even the women and the children
Just forget for 9/11

Since that day in early September 
So many things we choose not to remember
All the bombs
All the drones
The millions who now have no homes 
So don’t tell me to never forget
Your blinded rage has caused this shit
Hundreds of thousands innocent dead

All to appease your revenge

Angela Davis

“On any given day there are almost 2.5 million people in our country’s jails, prisons and military prisons, as well as in jails in Indian country and immigrant detention centers. It is a daily census, so it doesn’t reflect the numbers of people who go through the system every week or every month or every year. The majority are people of color. The fastest-growing sector consists of women—women of color. Many are queer or trans. As a matter of fact, trans people of color constitute the group most likely to be arrested and imprisoned. Racism provides the fuel for maintenance, reproduction, and expansion of the prison-industrial complex.”

From Freedom is a Constant Struggle. Pg 59.

Steel & Stone

Steel bars
Stone walls
Steel mind
Stone heart

Caged like a beast
The beast is me
Forever lost
In this insanity

Stone floor
Steel trap
Stone cold
Steel gaze

Broken inside
Want to break out
Trying to be heard
My silent shout

Deleuze & Guattari

"Even in the realm of theory, especially in the realm of theory, any precarious and pragmatic framework is better than tracing concepts, with their breaks and progress changing nothing. Imperceptible rupture, not signifying break. The nomads invented a war machine in opposition to the State apparatus. History has never comprehended nomadism, the book has never comprehended the outside. The State as the model for the book and for thought has a long history: logos, the philosopher-king, the transcendence of the Idea, the interiority of the concept, the republic of minds, the court of reason, the functionaries of thought, man as legislator and subject. The State's pretension to be a world order, and to root man. The war machine's relation to an outside is not another "model"; it is an assemblage that makes thought itself nomadic, and the book a working part in every mobile machine, a stem for a rhizome." (From Deleuze & Guattari's A Thousand Plateaus (pg 24)


War Drums

I walk all night, I walk all day
Corporate Lies, lead astray
This blistering heat, has got me beat
Can you hear the war drums

They sit and wait
As we decide their fate
Edge of their seat, they watch TV
Can you hear the war drums

Across the sky
Low fly-by
Was that a shot, I hope not
Can you hear the war drums

Through sweat and fear
We draw quite near
Merely a whisper upon keen ears
Can you hear the war drums

The lights go out
There is no doubt
Time to fight on hallowed night
The war drums are here


Michael Shapiro

"Moreover, the technologies that permitted killing in the absence of seeing had removed specific, suffering bodies in a way similar to the way they are effaced in the theoretical language of war, as war discourse has increasingly moved from images of flesh to images of weapons and logistics. Indeed, the enactment of the war bore a closer resemblance to theories of war than to actual violent engagements. The view that the U.S. combatants had of their targets was so mediated that the attacks were aimed at abstract targets in highly schematic spaces. The "battles" were thus very Clausewitzian inasmuch as Clausewitz spoke always in very abstract terms about the "battlefield" and avoided speculation about particular historical battles, particular antagonisms, and the actual bodily registers of violence. His discourse, in short, was as bloodless as the fighting must have seemed to those who operated on the control side of the contemporary technologies of battle." (From Michael Shapiro's Violent Cartographies p. 75)


The New Battlefield


Player One… GO!
Hit… Hit… Hit…
Weapon Upgrade
Massive Kill
Energy getting low
Hit… Hit… Hit, Hit
Watch your 6
Hit-Hit… Hit
Finish him!
You killed them all!

Level 4… Go…
Watch your 6
Oh No, you got WASTED…

Replay in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… GO!

(Meanwhile in Pakistan)

"I no longer love blue skies. In fact, I now prefer grey skies. The drones do not fly when the skies are grey. When sky brightens, drones return and we live in fear" -13 Year old Pakistani boy named Zubair.

"I had seen my grandmother right before it had happened but I couldn't see her after. It was just really dark but I could hear scream when it had hit her," says his sister Nabeela.

(Quotes from https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2013/10/saddest-words-congresss-briefing-drone-strikes/354548/)

Kathy Ferguson

"In violent times, the juridical, medical, and journalistic apparatuses worked overtime to mark the murders that mattered--the victims of attentats, not of strikebreaking; the anarchists' bombs, not the Pinkertons' guns; the wealthy at their leisure but not the poor in their distress. The deployments of discourse-producing institutions precede and make possible the meanings discernable within them. Interconnecting discursive practices within law, medicine, and media made it possible to claim that Goldman was dangerous--while resisting alternative inscriptions of danger. The discourses of danger surrounding Goldman and anarchism enabled a strategic non-seeing, a diminishing of other possible ethical and political engagements with other calculations of threat." (Pg 44-45. Kathy Ferguson's Emma Goldman: Political Thinking in the Streets.")


There's a violence in not being heard
There's a violence in not being seen
There's a violence in not being touched
There's a violence in not being loved

They say that I'm a liar
They say that I'm ugly
They say that I'm dirty
They say that I'm a savage

I just want you to listen
I just want you to look
I just want you to feel
I just want you to understand

You ignore me
You block me
You imprison me
You hate me

I can no longer talk
I can no longer walk
I can no longer interact
I can no longer be me

If you will not listen I will yell
If you will not look I will get in your way
If you will not feel then I will force
If you will not help me then I will destroy you

Elaine Scary

"The most obvious analogue to torture is war. The form of torture that leaves the prisoner untouched by the torturer but that requires prisoners to maim one another makes visible the connections between them. Some of the apparent differences between them are partially attributable to the fact that the symbolic and the fictional are much more prominent in torture. War more often arises where the enemy is external, occupies a separate space, where the impulse to obliterate a rival population and its civilization is not (or need not at first be perceived as) self-destruction. Torture usually occurs where the enemy is internal and where the destruction of a race and its civilization would be a self-destruction, an obliteration of one's own country. Hence there must be more drama in torture; the destruction must be acted out symbolically within a handful of rooms."  (From Elaine Scarry's The Body in Pain, p. 61)



Broken Strings
Broken Heart

            Broken Treaties
            Broken Promises

                        Broken Windows
                        Broken Glass

            Broken Bodies
            Broken Bones

Broken Will
Broken Spirit

            Broken Brotherhood
            Broken Family

                       Broken System
                       Broken Country
            Broken Hopes
            Broken Dreams

Inside and Out