Girding For War # 8

a journal of anarcho-spiritualism

• Treatise: Microcosm, Macrocosm Are The Same… •

• Poems: Tunnels, 1 – 8 •

• Further Info. •

A journal of Anarcho-Spiritualism

‘None of those thoughts mattered
then.
None of those thoughts
then
matter now.’
– Etienne Zadok

‘Without rules, madness.
Without discipline, death.’
– Nansur Military Maxim

‘This is something you do for a billion years, or not at all. This isn’t fashion.’
– Peggy Dodd to Freddie Quell

• Contents ‘n shit •

Microcosm, Macrocosm Are The Same…
or, Two Lefts Do Make A Right

Poems:
1st tunnel : Their (not Your)
2nd tunnel : Strive Against
3rd tunnel : Making
4th tunnel : Solitude Among
5th tunnel : Christwitch
6th tunnel : ‘O child Anarchia’
7th tunnel : Trajectory, Steps
8th tunnel : Wedidn’tneeda…

Further Info.

Microcosm, Macrocosm Are The Same…

‘The concept of justice means fixing a demarcation line between those who support and defend power and those who are against it. If the very existence of power is unjust and if all attempts, some of which we have just seen, reveal themselves to be no more than self-justifying swindles, any man of power, more or less democratic as he might be, always stands on the wrong side of justice no matter what he does.
To build such a concept of justice obviously means to form an idea, an idea you don’t find in the newspapers, that isn’t gone into in the classrooms or university auditoriums, which cannot become an element of opinion or lead people to vote. In fact, such an idea leads to internal conflict. Because before the tribunal of one’s self one asks, ‘But I, with my idea of social justice, how do I see it when what ___________ does seems good? Am I being taken for a ride too? Am I also an instrument of opinion, a terminal of the great processes for maintaining power, becoming not just their slave but also their accomplice?’
We have finally got there. We have reached the point of our own responsibility. Because if it is true that for anarchists there is no difference between theory and action, as soon as the idea of social justice lights up in us, illuminates our brain even for a split second, it will never be able to extinguish itself again. Because no matter what we think we will feel guilty, will feel we are accomplices, accomplices to a process of discrimination, repression, genocide, death, a process we will never be able to feel detached from again. How could we define ourselves revolutionaries and anarchists otherwise? What freedom would we be supporting if we were to give our complicity to the assassins in power?
You see how different and critical the situation is for whoever succeeds, through deep analysis of reality or simply by chance or misfortune, in letting an idea as clear as the idea of justice penetrate their brain? There are many such ideas. For example, the idea of freedom is similar. Anyone who thinks about what freedom actually is even for a moment will never again be able to content themselves by simply doing something to slightly extend the freedom of the situations they are living in. From that moment on they will feel guilty and will try to do something to alleviate their sense of suffering. They will fear they have done wrong by not having done anything till now, and from that moment on their lives will change completely.’

– Alfredo M. Bonanno, The Anarchist Tension

microcosm, macrocosm are the same…

or, two left DO make a right

two left DO make a right

or, microcosm, macrocosm are the same

The other night I was out at a bar for a small press type Lit. event, fucking hipsters everywhere, (most of whom were pretty much obviously more well-read and, even more, more intelligent than I), and there came a call from across the alley, someone sniping loud and mocking, laughing, scorning Christianity and Christians both; I, of course, am sometimes known for having written of and professed Christianity for many years, and this derision was most probably aimed at me. My work and materials were clearly displayed inside at the event.
I sat there on the curb, against the wall of the building behind me, outside the bar. After I had sat back down, returned from going over to the two persons being derisive and introducing myself, talking briefly and politely as I could, it began raining very hard, water sluicing out from a drain pipe across the way, flooding the street in elephant trunks of rain, collected and suddenly dropping itself. Sitting there after talking to the Christian-haters, (which I much or most of the time am as well, hating the false-view of reality and impossible situations it presses one into, as well as the deviation from seeing or caring for other, real, issues…) I contemplated my, of recent, normal contemplation. It is the following: When I smoke a cigarette someone somewhere dies. Sitting in the rain I thought about this.

The deaths do not happen simultaneously in time to the smoking of the cigarette, happening in a parallel yet unconnected way. And I do not contemplate this situation of the smoking cigarettes because I want to figure out privilege – I smoke and enjoy myself while people die of thirst because of the capitalism-and-otherwise-fucked situation that provides me with the cigarettes I enjoy in a peaceful area of this world. No. I think, very often, that my smoking, my choosing to smoke, kills a person. Most of the time a human being.
As I light the cigarette I have to choose – it will kill someone to do so, to inhale the smoke; someone not me and someone who is there, wherever they are, ready and willing to die for my willingness to do them in through the trigger-act of inhalation. Ready and willing, albeit, probably hate filled, (though sometimes I think they are willing and loving martyr-types), but voluntary or not, they are sacrificed. This is the basic set up of the situation which I experience, which I know to be true. Often it is not just this. Often I get the first three drags as the deaths of – pertaining to each drag – the G-d head/Father, the Son, and then for the third drag, the Holy Spirit. And I have to choose to put the cigarette down and not smoke it, or else, they die.
At the very least, when the later ‘test’ over takes my mind and thoughts, when it defines my actions, it is this third drag which really gets to me.

It is said in the book which is or is supposed to be, or whatever, the Word of G-d, that the only unforgivable sin is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. So, during these times of trials, even with some ‘sin’ or object/tool-per-making of a test (the choice, the cigarette) as paltry and small in horribleness-stature as smoking, the true choice is to Kill, to Murder; or, to blaspheme the Holy Spirit. And…over and over again for near on a year now dealing with this I have, in a lukewarm way, decided to force the mind again and again to not want nor think that it is in fact this sin that is happening, in literal or representational form. I have smoked, then, and I have smoked too in direct hatred of such or such spirit, and, if I recall right, I have tried to smoke without thinking of these things and also smoked regardless of these things. And I have hated every second of it, and I am still not quit and, in fact, am smoking right now.
Whether it in fact kills someone, or derides G-d in an unforgivable way, or whatever, I continue; I am in fact smoking now.

§

I once attended a Sunday service. The pastor was of a queer type; very much grass-roots, no large-screen technical displays, a tiny, paltry church house, a small congregation, mostly, I thought, of family and friends. But this motherfucker, not just was he a for-sure nice guy, and more reasonable and less pretentious than most Christians…this motherfucker fuckin LOVED G-d. The due would preach like a southern Baptist, a congregation of 15 sitting in polite and not-really-rapt attention, and the man would wave around his holiness scarf, or whatever it is that some Christians wave around while preaching and expounding and all that shit, and he would bring on ‘the holiness of the Lord’ to all of us.
Now; he was a nice guy. He was pretty down to earth, humble and not a shit-talker, and all the rest. But his sermon has been on my mind of recent, from that one time I attended his small congregation. His sermon was pretty much summed up by the following excerpt, paraphrasing only slightly:
He said: ‘We cannot fuckin think that we can ever love G-d enough, motherfuckers! He’s fuckin G-d! G-d Damn! This shit’s crazy, right? I tell you, I tell you in holiness and truth and all the rest, (blah blah blah), that sometimes all you want is a friggin pepsi. (No kidding. This was his sermon.) One pepsi! One! And you are addicted to it! Addicted, yes? Yo!, you want that pepsi and G-d is like, “Do you love me son?”, and you’re like responding all ‘oh fuck’ and fearful and in the holy squalor of the paltry house of his love that is your temple and body you say, “Shit, G-d; you know I love you.” “Then don’t drink this pepsi,” G-d says. “It is this one thing I will ask of you, this one simple thing; and it will be your love for me that you will not drink it.” [ 1.] And then you’re like, “Friggin Oh No! I need this pepsi, yo! I gotten rid of ALL my other iniquities, yeas, yeas I have…, and I have only this one thing, this one, ONE, little thing left to me. WHY G-d, why?!”’ (torment torment torment…) And then the preacher said something like that G-d replies to him (in his head or whatever, soul, etc.): ‘“I am G-d, YO! Do what I friggin say! Geeze…” And then,’ the preacher goes on, to conclude, ‘you’re like, “Well, shit. G-d wants this of me and I’VE GOT TO GIVE IT UP!” It’s hard, my people. It’s hard to love the G-d that loves you. It’s hard to obey; and HE will ask you for exactly what you don’t want to give up, but shit!, you gotsta…cause He’s fuckin G-d, yo!’
So yeah…

I sat in with him, (the preacher…again, cool guy really), later on that week or so, and we were sitting there and talking about how one can be assured of salvation. And I was asking all kinds of questions an shit and wasn’t getting any answers that made me feel like I was ‘secure in my salvation’ as it’s said, (this was all years ago), and the whole fuckin time this dude’s wife/ partner/ whoever was bringin the fucker glasses of pepsi. She walked in as we started and set down this big ass fucking two liter bottle. Right in front of him; and he poured us cups and we drank and talked about how the fuck I was gonna not go to fuckin Hell. Yeah. Shit’s crazy yo.

The moral of the story, to bring it back to sitting in the alley in Chinatown in the rain outside of the bar with the Christian haters across the way, is that – if it’s ‘once saved always saved’, and I became a Christian, like, ten years plus ago, then I ain’t got no worries about G-d abandoning me. But the fuckin dude, (G-d), is testin me something fierce. People say, (and this is, to my knowledge, the consensus of the majority of American Christians), that blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is, yes, according to ‘The Word’, the only unforgivable sin. For Christians though, it is impossible to actually commit. This is how this matter is interpreted. (I don’t know – The reason it is the only one that’ll fuck you over is cause it’s the only one out of reach, or something. Shit, I know it’s more complicated than that, but damn…who fuckin knows…)
So, the smoking thing freaks me the fuck out. When I get high, drunk, it’s easier to handle. It, of course, might be cause I’m ‘crazy’ that I go through this, but, huh, I think it’s more than that. And then there’s predestination and philosophical materialism too, like since all things proceed from the original source there is no free will and our bodies make decisions for us and fuckin trick us into thinking that we are making the choices, or whatever-shit…
But the clincher to the out-in-the-wet mind-fuck is here. The other half of the myopic and megalomaniacal delirium is this: I am known by all people. This is why they walk by me in the street without saying hello. This is the cause for alienation, disregard, stone-walling. This is why no one has ever ‘told me the truth…’ Cause these fuckers, my friends even, my loves, my lovers! for G-d sakes! (blah blah blah, whine whine whine [ 2.]) know that I fuckin hate G-d and won’t obey him and am killing every-fucking-one-of-us/you with my incessant smoking and they have all stone walled me and are just waiting for me to kill myself and trying to seriously and secretly egg me on to do it. It, the situation, fuckin sucks. Delusion or not.

So. When the dudes across the alley derided Christianity what was actually happening, to me, in my mind, was this: The two of them were saying to me that I sucked, cause I REALLY AM KILLING PEOPLE BY SMOKING and instead of offing myself and putting a stop to my killing of souls or someshit and fucking blasphemy and destruction and evil an shit…I stay alive, keep doing it, and what is the worst of all – I FUCKIN ASK FORGIVENESS FOR THIS AND ASK, AND GET, AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN, A CLEAN SLATE FROM G-D AND THE CHANCE TO SAVE MYSELF AND STOP THE MAYHEM, HAPPENING AT GREAT COST TO ALL THOSE LIVING WHO ARE TRULY THE CHILDS OF G-D AN ALL THAT. GREAT COST!!!
And I ask forgiveness for it, and do it again. And again.
And again.
(In this way I have – imaginatively, psychically – destroyed the universe, or, maybe all of creation, or G-d or something, many many times over. Many times. It fuckin sucks.)

But…It sucks cause I suck; and that there is the distinction. Whether these thoughts and imaginings are real and really occurring or not, I think they are. And so I choose ‘evil.’ I choose murder. Even if there is no ‘evil’, if there is only what is and shit’s just how it is, I make the decision that guarantees my satisfaction, my tiny paltry satisfaction, when someone’s life is on the line; and I just dump their life off the cliff, and move on to the next fuckin person to fucking kill.

Those two men in the alley then, who (I am quite often convinced) possibly fully know me, as all fully know me (according to the delusion/ dimensional location/ whatever) are not deriding Christianity when they mock, when they laugh. – For it is truth, (Christianity), in being a part of the truth, cause all things are true. (Since nothing is true…?) Anyway, they deride cause I am a Christian, maybe the only Christian, cause I ask forgiveness for something I have no right to be pardoned for. And then I do it again and again and again; and, what’s worse, I rely on a G-d, who, through bein cool with this process of me fuckin smoking people left and right, contributes to some portion and part of humanity hating him, or maybe just me, cause I suck enough to keep it all goin strong.
Damn. {Lets out a long deep breath.}

They hated me cause I was a coward who did not care to save the lives of those in danger. Period. And I was pathetic for shielding myself with a G-d. ‘Face the consequences motherfucker! Take responsibility! Fuck You!’

§

“I shall be brave! I shall be brave! I shall be brave!” (But…Really? No.)
But Corgan goes on though, in that song: “I shall be brave! Free of those voices inside of me.” That’s from Rocket. Siamese Dream.
‘Rockets.’ The name of my fav. character from a novel; modeled, I’m sure, after the lyrics of the lead singer of Catharsis. A much better band, sorry Billy Willy. Whatev’s.

§

Now, the point of all this:
The whole reason this is all such a big deal, or, is notable at all, is cause of the above quote form Bonanno.
Since I know, somehow, possibly, having the ‘anarchist’ spirit awoken in me, and, having had thought of ‘justice’ or freedom for but a moment now in my life, that I can conceive of and conceive of, even if the barest glimpse – the Idea – I will thus be tormented so, and on. It follows… I will now, here, today, and in the days to come, (most probably I would guess), put myself through, and further through, these fuckin crazy and fucking time wasting inanities until the point when I, (postulating now), not freely maybe but willfully, sit the fuck down and figure out what’s going on. And then…decide to take a step – to decide to destroy and to figure out how to destroy – the real motherfuckers in power who/which are really responsible for the death I so stupidly continue psychically committing. Which I continue to think I’m committing.
It’s fucking Capitalists, bankers, CEO’s, generals, and the fuckin rich and over lords, and I don’t know who the fuck who. But the whole thing is: my fucking mind/ conscience/ whatever will not let me sleep and will not let me rest; I am fuckin able bodied and participating in the death and the genocide and the murder and ecocide and fuckin slavery that I hate so fuckin much as an anarchist. I have not yet begun to attack. And so the torment will spur me, until I choose to get up and get the fuck at ‘em. Base line. Pure point. Unavoidable.
Or, surely: the torment will continue.
This is the schizophrenia of the truth, the systemic poisoning of our whole realm and reality.

§

It’s either that (above mentioned conclusion), or, my whole fuckin life is The Truman Show, I am spiritually assassinating people with drags of cigarettes, and I’m fully known and everyone is me in my next life/lives, and eternal return, and universal responsibility, and wholesale reincarnation, and Stockholm syndrome from when I was tazered and incarcerated by Pigs those years ago has not blunted my revolutionary fervor, but rather, was a shepherding by the Pigs, with staves of pain and humiliation, toward my awakening as a much lauded/ applauded/ hated Actor. So then the fuckin Pig Fucks are angels, huh? … And the other day when I smoked some fuckin weed I killed the devil at last, right? And invited in the angels to my body to win the microcosmic war within. (Or did I let in the devils? Are the real angels the devils? How does that work? Shit…) Inhaled the spirits into my f-ing lungs and they fought and fought their tiny dancing pin fight and the victory over the No-God was finally had. Thirteen angels stood guard around my bed as I was led in rest to a time of choosing between smoking more tobacco and reading the bible, (uhg… Bleeehhg… vomit vomit vomit…) and I resurrected Jesus through bringing that victory about within me (Yashua – however you spell his name…Whoever…) though my own etheric, spiritual choice, blah blah blah. ALL that shit…

And I ain’t even high most of the time. This is just my daily reality…

§

– Point A. Taking the dichotomy of those who support and defend power, on the one hand, and on the other hand, those who are against it, expresses incorrectly the balance of power within the ‘global civil war’. Even the balance of contesting forces within any spiritual war. It is not a dichotomy of conflict, but a conflict with three sides, a tricotomy.
Not knowing anything of Hegel, and not talking of dialectical arrival, but instead of conflictual situations, it is more to say that there is not just an option A and B, but a third choice. And even one that is not made through synthesis, but stands apart.
The fool will think they must choose. And there are always the two choices. Go into the darkness, or go towards the light. Struggle to stop ecocide, or do anything but. Sleep or stay awake. Go insane, or ground yourself in the real world. It is all things, at times, that are exhausting; the whole of the created or co-created universe and World is destructive toward the wellbeing of even the well-fed dumb-ass white man.
Spiritually the three sides stand as follows, within the Christian paradigm: There is on one side G-d, and good and righteousness; and, those who stand and stand against sin so that they may stand again, in honor, or whatever, on the day of judgment when G-d in his furious farting wrath lays waste to all of us mere pinions.
On the second side there is the Devil. Now, the devil has a lot to be said for zis’ self. He fuckin rules, and hates the fucker G-d, and won’t stomach tyranny, and would rather fight a losing battle than not fight at all and just let G-d roll him over into the grave of living-death and slavery. I get that all.
Not that there’s not things that make G-d, and Jesus, the total shit too. There is. Both sides have their points; and, even if (in this paradigm now), G-d actually does have moral correctitude on their side and really is the force of Good and Truth and Light, then, well, the situation still stands that it is possible that not every other being will end up on G-d’s good side. And what that means is that – this ultimately good G-d will cast out other beings into anything-but His good shit and alright-happytimes and all that. So, (discounting Ellul’s and others’ Universal Salvation, and thus continuing along the trajectory within which there is any conflict at all), it is very well possible that this G-d is my enemy, our enemy. And your enemy too.
So then. Do we side with the devil?
The issue is that (if you believe in prophecy) the devil is gonna lose the battle.
Now, not that some anarchists are totally against fighting losing battles, and not that we don’t even, somehow, see some glory in losing, historically, Again and Again. But motherfuckers, we’re gonna win. We are. In the end. And this is because, naturally, we are the third choice.
And we take that third choice.
Within that third choice must then be a path to victory.
Let’s break it down according to the Bonanno quote above. Those first lines: ‘The concept of justice means fixing a demarcation line between those who support and defend power and those who are against it.’ I would say that the above refers not to two opposing sides, but to three, each opposing the other two in totality.

– There are those who support power.
– There are those who defend power.
– And there are those who are against it.

First, before breaking this down, we must define ‘power’; and that, in two ways.

Power is the possibility of and the exercise of, by one thing or being, the bringing of its will to bear to override the will of another thing or being. So power is not only the exercise of power by one being over another. It is also the existence of the possibility of this, and thus the reality in which this can, and does, occur. Power over beings/things.
Now, since I got love for Landstreicher, I got to say: it ain’t that ‘domination is everywhere and nowhere, and so we should just make the best of it, etc.’ Tending a garden’s nice and all, but the fact that not everybody can do it means I will never be free of that fact. And I want to be. We’re utopians, yeah…? And, if I think about it for a second, and chuck all the mind-numbing self-hate and wild wooly crystalian trips ‘n shit, it does seem, if just for me, a better option for my life – to fight forces of power by fighting those in power, to destabilize them and their structure so much that it topples to pieces and we us all get to figure some interestin shit out for once. Plus: it sucks shit that there’s billions of slaves in the world. WTF? Burn this shit to the ground and fuck the consequences. Right?
But back to it.

Politically: In the large picture we can categorize and divide between the Left and the Right. The Left supports power by acting along with it, giving it their energy, and seeking reform, over time, and in what they call ‘peace’. The Right defends power, in that they take it, wield it, and refuse, by force of arms and other countable tools, to give it up whenever it is possible for them to hold onto it. Capitalism and the State have and are the structure of power. (Along with Patriarchy, Racism, and all the other fuckin shit we wanna squash out of our possibility-inclinations or realizations…) The Left lends this structure its support, though all the while claiming disagreement with the whole circus. The Right thinks this shit is necessary; they would never do away with inequality, nor hierarchy, since they have the good end of it, and their whole apparatus is consigned to defend its continuation. The Right says this shit is good; the Left merely says it’s necessary.
(What’s fucked, as we know, is that if peoples stopped sayin it all is necessary then the only thing remaining to say about it by its supporters would be that ‘It’s good.’ And then shit’ll hit the fan hard, cause most of us know that that’s bullshit. So fuck the Left.)
The third option in this here political field (afore we get back to the other paradigms an all) is being against power in whole. Anarchism and anarchy: do away with the whole apparatus as it stands. There are other options, ones neither hierarchical, nor exploitative. If, in this case, Power is the apparatus, then the third army on the field stands in complete and un-mediated opposition to the whole of the apparatus. Fuck the whole thing. If we can destroy it all, we will. Hearts and minds; infiltration; sabotage and slow-down; arson; strike; general strike; open war; civil violence; wholesale and piecemeal work against its component parts: money, rent, prisons, pigs, school, technology, gender normative thought patterns and interactions, white-power, state-wars, corporate control and global insidious exploitative movings, etc. Voting… Bosses… It could go on…
So, if Power is the apparatus then we are against the apparatus. Against the culture and against the structure. That’s kinda pretty simple, (to conceive of). We’re against the apparatus, as if IT were our enemy. We want it stopped and destroyed.

Within the Left itself, though, to take it further, there is another split and divergence. (I won’t go into the edges and fluxings within the Right. It all sucks. This world would be better than it is now if it was all out open violent war on their asses. Some say we can work with the hard motherfuckin American Libertarians, and that may be the case. It’s, I’ve heard, a question of ends and means. Since we’re all about them being unified in the here and now then – work with them; their goal is to destroy the state. If we work with them and abolish the state the question of communism will ‘be decided within a generation.’ Still, that goes. We know what happens when we work with statists [ 3.], why do we think it would be any different working for revolution alongside capitalists? Yet another field of contestation and war, even if it is in some places and times civil or polite, not just waiting for us after we win, but taking over the struggle now and ruining the Idea’s work… Hhum…) Politically, economically, the Left takes it that communism is not just preferable but something that they wish to make. Those who support power on the Left tend to be communists who are willing to work with the State and Capital. They’d like power done away with, but will settle for democratic socialism or whatever. They don’t defend power, they don’t like it, and fuck it – they’re waiting for it to collapse, (which, given time, it is likely to do. Wha? 20 years post the writing of this is the projected climate no-turning-back line? 10 years? 5? 5 minutes?), but these support power, within the Left, maybe because they believe that an intact system saves us, (them), from the worst of unrest. Unrest here meaning celebration of the tendency for organization toward revolt. Destruction, overthrow, and immediate anarchy. Or, if we can organize enough in places, Anarchism. Either or, fuckin hell yeah.
Those on the Left who defend power are just the fucks we love to hate. Though, honestly, I know next to shit about them: dudes who believe that communism is only gonna be made along with a strong state apparatus; they’ll say power over is a necessity cause people ain’t gonna like freedom and shit’s gonna go fuckin crazy without the power systems that they would love to nurture and pilot. They don’t just support power grudgingly; they want it, ideologically defend it, and, through any coercion, keep it in place and secure.
Again, within this field of the Left there is a third contingent. This shit goes down and down and keeps spiraling. ‘We are communists…right?’ Heh… ‘No property’, ‘No money’, and pretty much take care of folks and communalize all wealth and mechanisms of wealth-creation… (If not…just smash them all and undo the whole holy hell, right? Shit.)
Yeah… So… Within the Left the so called ‘anarchist contingent’, the third option, is pacifist. Being ‘against power’ (and by that the pacifists on the Left mean power only in economic terms), they express this stance against economic power (exploitation) by using the non-use of coercive-power (domination) as a tool and weapon in the fight for communism. Simply by decrying the use of coercion in-total and refusing it, using only other methods, they expect that the way through to communism will be won by winning hearts and minds that are, they think or feel, ready for the harvesting.

Understandably, for Leftists, terminology ‘n shit is confusicated.

And unfortunately for us, them, and this realm, this pacifism not a viable option; it is not an option at all really, cause it will not work.

{Before I go further into this I have to say: Anarcho-Pacifists are with us. I know lots of us think they’re not, and call them cowards, but…They fuckin rule and they’re gonna be doin all the shit we’re doin. They are not of the Left. They’re with us till the end and they know it. And it’s damn good for us if we know it too. (They even have the real Jesus on their side, no joke. Not some faker ideological-fantastical-Jesus – but the dude or lady or whoever they were – that did exist all that time ago. And, well, that’s a pretty friggin cool person to have on your team, which I’m sure I can say, having once thought that I too was in their ranks. Though, since no one can represent this real Jesus, who’s to say they would not or would not-have picked up arms…? Right?)
It is best to see the Anarcho-Pacifists as infiltrators. They make it seem they are part of the Left. They do this to struggle with the Left. Infiltrating the Left this way outs those who are really on the Right – reveals in the enemies’ ranks those who are hiding in our midst – and further, too, in the twinkling of an eye, shows a way out to those who really want the third choice, and not just the truncated and blunted version that the Left presents as its third option. They have infiltrated that third position within the Left, which, in the Left’s terms, is usually referred to as the spiritual side of Communism. The reverence for equality. (Communists who want the Rev. but who will, when it comes to Power, only stand against it.)
Without a conception of freedom though, there is nothing. Only Anarchism answers the question as fully as it can be answered in language within the political field. Pacifism will not be able to do the work necessary to bring itself about. It won’t just take a generation for the Pacifists. It won’t take two generations. It’s a millenarian thing. And so, it will either never happen, or, we will wait until the end of time.
Their way is about waiting. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
Forever.

[I understand, (we’ve gotten now back into Spiritualism, but bear with me), how complex reality is, but it is not the case that there is nothing to be done about our lives, or the world.]

‘If we wait we will remain pure.’
But this world might not be pure.
‘I certainly don’t want to be responsible for the suffering that an all-out
global civil war will bring.’
Well. Sorry friend. It’s already on.

And we are not about waiting. The Idea is not a Gift that will be given to the world. It is not an historical inevitability. It is an Idea. Its conception can come upon someone, and thus it can seem that there was or is a period of waiting, but really, it is living that brings the Idea to bear upon the mind. It is living that will bring the Idea to bear in this world, too.}

Anarchists now, to come back to it and move towards concluding our Point A. are, alongside being communists and standing and fighting against exploitation (economic-power), also are anarchists: against domination (coercive-power). Meaning, we are against power totally. That’s actually what it means to stand first against domination; domination includes all power-over, and both coercive and exploitative.

Freedom means complete freedom, and for all, and that will not come alongside a conception of property; one that not only will some not hold themselves, but which, because it exists, will condition the existence of other lives against their individual wills.
But, politically, being against domination means that one can conceive of being against – not power itself, but only power-over, power used to dominate. If it were possible to live in a world in which beings were free and thus had personal energy or power, but, Never dominated, then it could be that we could align ourselves with that form or exercise of power. This, maybe, is the Idea.
I’ll conclude now, but I think it suffices to say, that such a completely voluntary order, cosmically, is not possible given the current conditions of humyn life and known life, at least as some conceptions have of it.

So, returning to the war within the Christian paradigm:
G-d and those who side with G-d support power, for G-d supposedly has All power, and thus, would support the continued existence of power; it is necessary to have and keep power for the right governing of the cosmos, etc. Power, as Power, is a liked and chosen and backed-up thing/force/etc. And, for these and their G-d, power does not need to be defended, because their G-d has All power and so it cannot be taken from them.
The Adversary defends power. Those with the Adversary defend power. They feel and/or know that the only way to beat or fight a god with power who chooses to use power against them, and us, is to defend the existence of power – and to grasp it and use it. They are not against power. They speak in its defense because it may defend them.
Not that there are not the gray areas here and there, but still, it is here laid out so.
Now for a third option within this Christian field of conflict and war:

First and foremost, it must be said – I am not a priest. I am not a leader or guru, or an authority. I have no authority, and I take none. These ideas have none, these words – none. Most of them are not even true, and much of it I just made up. If any of this is even true at all to any degree…
There are no leaders. No followers. No masters. No slaves. Meaning that not a one has claim to a truth that is greater than your own claim; not a one has claim to anything that you do not have claim to; not a one is master over you: no person, no god, no idea. If there are masters, they must be ended. If there are slaves, they can be freed. And as to spiritual authority: not only do I not have it, but I would say that it is a pile of shit and the more it exists the more death follows in its wake. To end it then…

So if one is to be against power then one need not be against G-d. One need not be against the Devil. One need not be against persons at all.
One is against power.

This is the totality of conflict between the three camps:
Those who support are against those who defend because it is a conflictual relationship and there is a fight on. They have All power and so, for an outside force to insinuate itself and seize destroys the ‘natural’ order of such paradigm; and they are against those who are against because those who are against are against their tool: power. Those against are against the whole structure, natural, real, or created.
Those who defend are against those who support because the only reason why they must take and defend power at all is because it exists, and it is used against them. They want power to defend themselves, and they perceive themselves under constant threat, maybe duly; but they are against those who are against because they are not against themselves. They must hold power, for without it they will lose all.
Those who are against are against those who support because their continued utilization of domination, and maybe thus their very existence, slams a threat into the world of voluntary order. And those against are against those who defend because they would continue to use power to ensure that power over them would not reestablish itself. They defend power to maintain themselves, and then they would maintain power to defend themselves.
We do not want to seize power to create voluntary order. Any wholesale creation of order is not voluntary.

§

– Point B. Reading a book, many months – near half a year – ago in Denver, Colorado, I was presented with some slightly mystical insinuatory knowledge. This esoteric tome’s author had put out a whole treatise on one idea and one alone: that the only way out of our present predicament – ours, or yours – is to do something that has never been done before.
The past month of my life has been marked and contextualized by, primarily, flexings between slight off-putting scare tactics of insanity creeping in and threatening the dissolution of my relationships, and, all-out complete insane clusterfuck death trapings.
Steering away from the political sphere completely, toward and into that of spiritualism or religion leads one to choose, apparently, between such things as Revelation or Reason; Christianity or: animism, Hinduism, paganism, and whatnot.
The reason for staying away from politics, in the opinions of some it seems, is that they either, a. do not wish to make waves, or b. they see the whole process of politics as stupid and pointless.
By ‘politics’ then do they mean the electoral process, nation making, media coverage and national identity and choosing sides within ‘a people’, or what? Or, do they mean, and mean to stay away from, all discussion of political things et al? Or, what seems to me most common, is it that they wish not to deal with interacting with persons and wiggling in and out of situations and social relationships – ‘interpersonal politics’, and that whole mess of ‘What should I do?’ ‘What is right to do?’ ‘Should I go here, do this, say that, or not…for them, for myself, for the scene/situation/etc.?’
Regardless of where we go spiritually (and if we abandon the political field we are left with certain other common fields to replace it: spiritualism and religion; conformity and jobs and the whole of, – either competition for social standing within normative consumer culture, or, – the hope that one will be left alone as a good worker to live for whatever off-work satisfaction that one can nurture…; also there is group identity to disappear into, sporting events and identification with various organizations and so on; then family, and The Family; art; and generalized fantastical escapism: books, entertainment, etc. – to name a few fields) we are left with either the knowledge of a reality or the experience of an illusion.
Oppression is either real, or it is not. It is imagined – it is an act, a play, to deceive one, to trap or free one into a reality wherein one can stay in their apartment and think that the rumors of wars and the stress and manic depression of their friends is an elaborate hoax; or, oppression is real. This dichotomous situational knowledge or blindness can be met regardless of what field or sphere one plays in, works in, wars in, or struggles in. Domination, state violence, pig-violence, unequal distribution of the ‘stuff’ of a healthful and wholesome humyn (or otherways-living) form of life… These must be illusions, they must…
Where this has led, of recent, has been, again – the understanding that oppression is real. Violence, suffering, etc. All real. Institutionalized. All very much affecting other beings, sentient, and sentient-and-living, – living in all the ways of such beings and things – and not only in ways sometimes commonly attributed to what constitutes a conscious and thinking ‘being’. Water then. Fire. Mountains. The wind. Even, then, All Things. Are possibly suffering, could possibly suffer, very much really do suffer. – But here, and it stands to Reason: it is caused by you. You and only you.
Is that even possible?
This is a difficult question. It seems likely that the material world is not only definitely real, but, that no non-material processes go into the effects of, beingness, and choices of those things which are in our realm, such as humyns, such as me, and you. Like T.K.: ‘If there is a soul its effect on us is limited compared to physical realities and parts and things and processes, biological and otherwise. Its effect is smaller, even negligible. (Exact quote – ‘There may or may not be an immaterial human soul, but if there is one it clearly is less powerful that the biological mechanisms of human behavior. For if that were not the case then researchers would not be able so easily to manipulate human feelings and behavior with drugs and electrical currents.’)
Free Will, then: an illusion? Or illusion of sorts? Not being well read on the subject I can only speak from my own experience. Which is uneducated, privileged, and limited.

Being a machine made due to and out of an original source, a material machine, created to have bodily autonomy and thus the ability to perceive that it is ‘free’ and to act autonomously among other biologically autonomous machines, and a world of such biological machines… This surely works, along with some modern discoveries in neuroscience and psychology, to prove* that there is no way that One perceiving and choosing being can be the responsible party to all of the world’s suffering.
But, being not-separate from created existence it follows that One is one with it, and so, One IS responsible for all suffering, though One is only a part.
I don’t know where this goes. I have not read enough. But skipping ahead to other conclusions I would caution that, practically, the only way I can see out of this is to fight the forces of oppression and reaction, the machine of ecocide, and get out there and arm the self with a piece and tools. To get in the fight, the real one. These schizophrenic inanities are not gonna end until one forges ahead with some real reason/Reason.
So’s I think, yeah…?
The thing is, the only way to fight the forces that have this world in their grip, (real people, with real names and bodies and addresses and families and guns and machines, and money, and lackeys), is to come up with a fuckin plan.
A 50 year plan. A 20 year plan. 10. 5.
Shit; all of that.
Detail it. Figure it out. I’m goin through these goddamn crises of Existential Liberalism for a reason – Cause I’m not facing the fact of my own belief.

The world is at war.

• – And I’m not facing that cause I don’t think I am up to the task.
• – Or: I don’t believe it’s happening.

In a rough sketch of an outline for Anarcho-Spiritualism a list was compiled. The first five points of that list read as follows:

1 the world is fucked
2 there are malignant forces in objective external reality that are fucking the world
3 there is no reason that You have to see yourself as, or choose to be one of, these forces or side with these malignant forces
4 it is unproven and unprovable that there is a reality external to your experience, body, or, rather more complicated, it is possible that the outer world, in fact, the whole of the gargantuan universe, is affected by your perception of it
5 if the previous statement 4 and all its trajectories can be taken into account and seen for the irredeemably ridiculous and sad, almost criminal, statement that it is, then you are left with the sure knowledge of the world being fucked

I read/heard somewhere that the point of rupture is set when one decides to no longer sell out their own integrity. ‘We set the point of reversal, the way out of the desert, the end of Capital, in the intensity of the link that each person manages to establish between what she thinks and how she lives.’ – Call, Proposition IV

So… When, through Witchcraft, the solipsistic-leaning interaction and relationship between the self and the realm in which the self exists autonomously begins to warp, due to the thoughts, actions, and intonations of intention within one, what is one to think?
Materiality or not, something strange is going on. Psychology, neuroscience; yeah, these might be able to explain it. But nothing in physics can explain what is seen in wonder, and not simply the wonder of ‘experience’ nor the wonder of this realm’s existence. But the wonder of such a complicated experience happening that one identifies with and relates to and, which is interacting in such fast and meaningful ways with external reality; morality crashing in, and the weight of all the perceivers building and building; when one hears the scraping of knives and forks and hears at the same time children, infants and progeny, crying, one knows who and what it is that we are eating. Every road is not only a crossroads, but at the crossroads sometimes seemingly miraculous things happen. You pray a prayer to be able to be put into hellfire for even a moment so you will know, and quickly a friend drives up, honks, and asks you on an adventure. Wondering, you jump in the car and they tell you they have heard of a secret place, where the two of you drive to through the morning. Getting there it happens to be a natural sulfur hot-springs abutting a crystal-lined cavern; and the water is boiling hot, smells of brimstone, and you let yourself underneath, marveling…

Where this situation and experience leads to, rather quick-like, is suicide. The only other choice to address the horrendous effects of oneself on the world that one knows* to be truly happening is to change in such a great way as to become saintly; and fuck, I don’t want to be a fuckin saint. ‘Even if it would save the world?’ Yeah, but that don’t make sense, that don’t add up. What about the rest of the War, the whole global civil war and its narrative? What about the narrative of your comrades? The narrative of your childhood and your entry into politicization, when you were just beginning at this? What about uncertainty itself – the blessing of all blessings, the tool of the holy war of light. The weapon of all who conquer.
Plus – I fucking hate the righteous. Sheesh…

§

So, considering things never done before we briefly treat with Suicide.

) (A) (

When one is against power one realizes for a time that there is no way to fight power – to fight power itself. For one cannot use power to fight it, right… Hhum… Ends and Means…
One can only not use power. Right…? … Hhum… ‘Yeas……’

What is the only way to stop utilizing power? (Every choice we make utilizes power. Even power-over.) The only option for a being or thing who and which wants to stand against power is to stop using power, and at the same time if they are able, to stop all use of power elsewhere as well. If one wants to stand against power, without siding with power, only one option, seemingly, remains.
One must die.

The argument is this: When one is dead one will have finally made real one’s realization of the Idea. Power is wrong. Power over others is wrong. So, ‘I will try the only thing I can think of to do… (if I am limited to how I can fight, or how I can choose) to stand against power. I will die. And thus I will never wield power again.’

But comrades, though suicide is the end to our choosing, and the end of our actions, and thus the end to our own personal power and our power-over others…it is an action in and of itself of power.
And, as anarchists, we believe, again, in the simultaneous realization of ends and means.
Suicide, then, is not a choice that will result in the end of power. It is a choice that will act using power against power. And: It is the penultimate act of power. By choosing to not choose ever again, (assumingly), one deals an ultimate act of power into the universe, ending, through Will, all power over oneself, and thus rendering all things powerless to have dominion over one. It is the taking of all power away from everything everywhere to interact with oneself. It is personal. It rids you of power; and at the same time, rids all beings and things of power over you. But simultaneously, in seppuku or the rope, you take power over the whole of existence. They can never stand in relation to you again. Thus, suicide is the shortest path towards approaching omnipotence. (The only greater act of power would be to end all life, or all things.)

The argument then goes: Power cannot be done away with, not at the present time, not in its entirety. We do not even want to do away with it en masse. To do so would be to die and to at the same time cement it as fact, at least for oneself and one’s life, if not for, too, one’s contribution to the cosmos and World. There is not to gain omnipotence on one hand (maybe impossible, but approachable perhaps, and in any case, an undesirable thing). And on the other hand there is not to end your life though it would mean never being dominated again (other than, in the last act, being dominated by oneself; even, oneself dominating all other times of oneself and persons that one would too be and become).

We are, merely, against.

How is one to work against power, to stand against it, to be against it?

) (A) (

Witchcraft talks of it. Paganism too probably, in some types. Animism and animist spiritualties and religions. A thousand and more variations and near infinite belief structures, paths, and ways through life, lived by all unruled and primitive beings and things with their living.
Life itself. Things alive. Things of this realm, and all realms; things which are. These are, for us, allies, comrades on the third path. It is living the tension wherein a one can be against power.

The infinity that opens up when neither A nor B is chosen is the infinity and endless vicissitude that is this infinity split and whole, within and containing its self, loving and not smothering, riding and not capitulating, forever building and never leveling upward.
This is the first salvo of Anarcho-Spiritualism: A war can only be won when you fight on your own side.

Buddhism teaches how to reach oblivion and thus avoid damnation or samsara. But I do not know much of religions other than Christianity. In religious and spiritual terms I would bet that Anarcho-Spiritualism speaks to a third and decidedly anarchist life and tension within all religions. Atheism manifesting solitude in a universe void of a creator even. Siding, even, with yourself alone. Siding with autonomy. Etc.

We speak against power, but this is not a death cult. Few anarchists, though godspeed them, say that all anarchists should kill themselves. Few say that none should be allowed to. Nor either, is it that all anarchists should refuse to seek immortality; it is a life cult, yes, …of a kind. For we know that to live one must die; we choose neither.

Not a one chooses either.

§

And there are more pressing choices to be made… The ways to fight are various. And pressing. And, for us, necessary.

§

{I would guess, and it is just a guess, that freewill is not real.
I would not bet on it. But…if/then:
Power over other beings and power itself, in the conception then that we have been using and primarily concerned with here, does not exist and never did. Or, it was, at some point, done away with. Forever. Can it be said that the ‘human spirit’ is still free? Sure. Maybe it is. Maybe the freedom of the human spirit is that we are alive, living, (and that our bodies are or think they are free…) But – we are not free. We are biological organisms which are trained by ourselves to think that we are free. Our hatred of ‘power’ is hatred of a non-existent thing.
And so, we know, we must know, we have already won the battle.
We have won!
So now for the victors what is left?
Should we party and dance the rest of our days? Should we feast and gripe and lay about in self-hate? Nothing matters anyway. We were never free and so we are; or whatever. Right?
Nah.
You can say whatever it is you want. If you want one thing, or the other, and you exist, and you have the illusion of choice, then, yeah, choose. Party. Hate yourself. Whatever you want, yo.
But for me, it seems, Revolution calls to me in ways that Witchcraft and Christianity do too. Both. All three. For, to me, they are inextricably tied up, be it in delusion or not. Magic and its kinds are as real as this body which is typing now, and which now, (pauses to light a cigarette), smokes.

I believe that G-d has made us to unmake Themselves.
We hear of His loneliness but it was really His hatred of power; why else would He create a place by which He would have to share its use?

If I think that such small things and gestures can have such drastic and seemingly unrelated affects, (smoking a cigarette, fucking, lighting a candle), then the inverse is true positively: working reasonably for revolution, step by piece, can actually cause a whole overturning in this world. An opening up. A birth. A nebulous birth. A beginning and a continuance. Though we be not free we are bodily and personally autonomous. And parts of the great machine of the cosmos that must now war and continue to war with itself are starving, whilst other parts are well fed and at their leisure. Parts are breathing and parts are watching TV and parts are distributing free food and parts are giving birth and parts are finding out what works and what doesn’t work to live in and begin to make a world in which our autonomy is shared and respected, and equal.}

§

Getting back to that book on esoteric solutions I read in Colorado. ‘To get out of our, or ‘your’, predicament – something new is needed, something never done before…’

New Option 1. Death.
• Not suicide. Not even to simply wait for eventual death, though it will eventually come to the individual and be completely new and never before done. On the personal level I don’t think that is the answer… At least for me. And our world and our issue and our stake are not only personal.
• On a global or social level: Death? Apocalypse, meaning extinction, cause we’ve never tried that before either… … … um. Nah.
• Apocalypse, though, as meaning, the End of Civilization, the end of our world, wouldn’t be such a bad idea; and it’d maybe be new…

New Option 2. A Game Changer. (Peoples’ tryin ta bring it…)
• The Singularity. We are machines, biological ones, so what of it then? I don’t know; but the idea kind of…bores me, (and nothing ever does). It’d give way to fascism too, possibly, really quickly. … And those working on the manifestation of AI or the point of no return are all specialists and capitalists and warmongers. Why should I have a faith in their future?
• Fulfilling Prophecy. There are those trying to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem. Bring about the prophecies in Revelation. Good luck with that, motherfuckers… G-d damn! I hope you fascist racist elitist shitfucks burn at the stake.
• Aliens ‘n shit. Those looking to the skies to hurry others to come to our aid are after them to help us do what we can do for ourselves. And the fact is, they already might be among us. They might be us. We want to save the world, and bring about Utopia, and I don’t understand why we don’t see that we can do this and work it out, for the rest of our days, until the new creation envelops us. So…

New Option 3. Continued, Uninterrupted Struggle Toward Global
Revolution, Anarchy, and Utopianism/Anarchism.

‘The only thing we haven’t done yet is not give up.’

• Personal Spellwork. Witchcraft to unmask reality, forgetting about the angles of revolt, equality, and freedom, excepting as on a personal scale, to try to fix reality and bring about Anarchism and an end to domination and Patriarchy through one’s own inner, expressive, and intentional work. That’s good and all, and it could be done, I’d say; but it’s not my personal path. For thisself inner work is for inner work and manifests in external actions and things, yeah…, but I really can’t be left alone to save a world without touching it or interacting with it excepting for just with myself’s own part – to, um… save something other than myself? Wha…? Of course, if You want to do it I’m sure I’ll wake up the day after you succeed in shifting All of our paradigms into a land of bubblegum concrete and tortoise un-extincting eggs. Gender-fuck flowers with ultimate receptivity to our wishes and dreams of a world without coercion. Syndicates organized along anarcho-syndicalist lines for the resurrected soldiers lost in the war against states and kings. Prison-eating kudzu vine. But really, try it, yo.
It’s worth a shot.

• Utopia. ‘It is not here.’
Yet, the individual who is materially equipped can work toward revolution; they need the necessities, and then anyone thus would be freed-up to attack the systems of power and create useful and enjoyable methods of living.
If I hate authority (and the responsibility to do so is not anyone else’s, due…) then surely I should not wait on Revelation, or aliens, or the Singularity; professionals and specialists are still only singular persons. And can the Singularity even be divorced from Power? ‘Only this body lives the life of this body’s life.’ In this mind, at times, it is obvious that only I am the antagonist, however wrong that is. So to switch sides is not to wait on a savior, it is to become the protagonist.

But these are all offshoots. The integrity that is realistically capitulating to laziness or fear or a lack of will to plan and act is the revolutionary integrity of this very real realm and world in its wholeness. If nothing has solved these problems, if there is no way out, then a way out has to be made. I think I can do it. So do you. So do. I think it depends on me. So do you. So act. I think the very world is in jeopardy. And it, one way or another, is. So work must be done to get gone with this threat.
I think I must wage war to save the world. So don’t live in a way that would be ‘properly respectful’ to the world, if it was whole, if it was healthy and healed; it is not. It is in danger.

Wage war to save it. [ 4.]

§

– Point C.
• Plan. Build. Attack.

٭ – Study, and Plan Meticulously, How to Win and Wage the Revolutionary Struggle: (map out the course over years and decades, – and study…a lot).

٭ – Gather Resources and an Autonomous Material Force Around a Common Goal: (build networks of affinity, solidarity, and sustainability, communalize wealth and work for more influx of it to the collective/commune, and create and sustain autonomous and free spaces, locations, and places for use).

٭ – Act Continually and Consistently, to Practice and Build Praxis, to Provide
Resistance to Your Enemies, and to Grow the Collective or Its Power; but
Maintain This, Withdrawn From the Conflict In-Its-Whole and Hold There;
When the Time is Right – Move to Attack, Dismantle, or Destroy.

٭ – Proposed Goal:
Independence, Sustainability, and Autonomy of The Archipelago of Hawai’i.

٭ – Some Factors Affecting the Goal:
1. Racism             5.The Police             9. Hierarchy/Coercion
2. Patriarchy         6. The Military          10. Poverty/Work
3. Urban Development    7. Capitalism  11. Homelessness/Rent
4. Bio-Region Non-Sustainability    8.    The State    12. The U.S.A.

٭ – Suggestions of How to Go About Dealing With These Factors:

‘We Angels, or Demons? No Matter. We Got ta Kill the Pigs.’

§

– Point. D. A lot of people are in my life. Comrades. We try to take care of each other…when we are not at each other’s throats. We are stumbling right now, gently, limply, cautiously, and not-dedicatedly (it sure fuckin seems sometimes…), and not with our whole selves and minds, in the forging of a collective and commune, with the hope of creating a physical force that can challenge capitalism and empire.
We want the military off the Hawaiian Islands. We want sovereignty and independence for the Kanaka Maoli. We want decolonization. We want the heads of bankers and kings. We want all money to be burned and abolished. Use that shit to wipe your ass, yo. We want the hundreds of islands, and the eight main ones, of this archipelago which many of us are guests on, to be free and independently sustainable – and we want no fucking nations, no borders, and, we want anarchy for all. We want it.

We want to try and get it.
We are fucking trying to figure it out; …but we aren’t really thinking it through.
It can happen. If we think it out. And then if we fight. It can’t happen without battles. It won’t happen without killing, or dying… But it won’t happen if we don’t think it through either. What? Go out and put an arrow through the head of some random pig; and that’s what, one down, 2,000 to go…20,000 to go…
………………… (Damn. That’s a lot of dead pigs.)

The fuckin possibility is there though, without vanguards, without provisional governments, and it can be done before the whole earth goes up in flames if we can’t stop enough ‘fucking-fuck-G-d!burn-His-mercy’ Eco-Devastation and the whole thing gets fucked for everyone. Or whatever we’re up against this century: centralizing of state control; spread of surveillance networks; whatever.

Point is, I have no hope, but I still have hope all the same. Hope’s tricky. You can mainline hope, you can shoot that shit up your arm; but you can’t mainline fire. Rising oceans… Rising heat… I have heard from ‘wiser heads’ that we’re fucked. No matter how hard we try…

There was this Sci. Study that said, (I saw/heard), that the collapse of the earth as a habitable place for humyns and other like-forms can be forestalled and maybe prevented due to attacks and acts of sabotage in the anarchist form. Direct-action moves and so on. Some mathematical equation written out to prove it too, or something; (I’m sure some of you saw the broadcast about this.) How about that then? How else are we gonna find out?

§

It’s hard to be home and alone and left to the self to do work that I value. I’ve escaped from capitalist wage-slavery but I’m left weak, meekly wiping my pity tears with clean hands covered in psychic offal.
I sit here, fortress of fuckin solitude and safety and privilege. Hhum… ‘Move to the streets?’ / ‘Live in a tent?’ / ‘Move to the woods 75% of the time and come ‘indoors’ for subversion missions?’ / ‘Wander raving and renounce money and possessions?’ (Which I’ve tried, hell, I’ve done all that, many times.)
Or: commit myself to thinking through and planning out my revolutionary activity and then begin to, after long and long enough figuring and planning and practicing, fuck the shit out of everything; and, take care of my friends, comrades, family, and all the people that I can that are in our villages…
This shit I got now, here, in the Great White West, this ain’t hard. – I ain’t seen hard enough. What would break me? Like a tiny brittle wafer ‘o christ on the tongues of those who have already chosen a side and suited up?

Look see:
There are these two albums by the band called The Spectacle.

the first one is titled Rope Or Guillotine. it’s about screamin and rantin and pissin cause you figure shit out first before you throw your lot in with the anarchists and join the war. you consider what it means to eat while another starves, consider slavery, and you know that if you take a step toward revolution, a real step, an honest step, our people will hate your fuckin guts. even so you decide it’s doom either way and you risk that rope, that guillotine, and death. you plan it out long and detailed. and then you begin. and in the end, the album progresses – you win. you’re in a cave at the end of the album, smellin the sweat of your fellows and the wind howlin across the mouth of the cave. Epoch-Collapse and Victory. cause, though: you thought your shit through.

the second album is titled I, Fail. it’s about moanin and screamin and wailin cause you rush in cause this whole shit pisses you off so much, desperate for ending, desperate for ending your life, or, the circle, and the rebirth, and the endless failing. and you figure the only thing you’re good for is one good salvo into the enemies ranks, and you get lost in love or getting fucked up or doing nothing or whatever. furious and desperate, you think no part of revolution through and throw it all away. you do some move against capital, against samsara, against Domination, without thought, without foresight, and you plan nothing, cause you don’t, really, think you and we can win; and that’s what fucks ya. in the end, the album progresses – you lose. you have one last fantasy of flying across the world and then wake from it and embrace death and samsara, to be born again and again and again as the one who will live to try not-hard-enough and then die without having reached the dream. Death and Defeat. cause though: you didn’t think your shit through.
The definitive refrain from I, Fail is ‘By God you are nothing at all! You are nothing at all! You are nothing at all! You are nothing at all! By God you are nothing at all! You are nothing at all! You are nothing at all! You are nothing at all!’
The definitive refrain from Rope Or Guillotine is ‘There’s a fucking war on. Am I fighting at all? Lives at stake. Do I care? Do I fucking care? What am I waiting for? There’s a fucking war on! Are we fighting at all? Lives at stake! Do I care? Do I fucking care? You’ve had yours… What will be my reward?’

It’s

‘Crawl to your death.’

Or

‘NOTHING IS ENOUGH FOR US
IF SOMETHING MUST BE SURPASSED
IT IS THE CONVENTIONS,
THE MISERY, THE VOLUNTARY SLAVERY,
THE FAKE SENSITIVITIES
THE COOPERATION WITH THE ‘MOVEMENTS’.

THE COLOR OF ANARCHY
SHOULD BECOME BLACKER THAN EVER!

LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTRUCTION
AND WAR WITH NO TOMORROW.

FREEDOM’

So, yeah. Done with waiting. But think your shit through. You got to know why it is you end up where you end up. You don’t want to just suddenly find yourself in another world and realize that all your haste and courage forgot
that one complicated perfection and horror that so spurred you to find the truth in the first place. Think it through. It’s all for you anyway. Remember the kind of sick, miraculous shit that voice whispered to you in your head? That one time? All those years ago? Last night or this morning in bed? Your whole life? Right…?

Let’s bring this motherfucker down.

§

To conclude the essay, and to finish with the story now, about the rain and the cigarettes, I’ll say this.
Look… I AM known by everyone.
All of us know each other, cause we all are each other. And I hate all of you just as much as you hate me. Why? Why do we hate each other? … Do we hate each other even? It can sure seem like that sometimes. Why? How about: I don’t know why we aren’t doing more to stop this whole world from dying. For starters… We walk around, we walk the streets, we do our shit – like there’s nothing wrong! Who the fuck wouldn’t be pissed off about that?
And as for the cigarettes: Yeah, I’m a motherfucker. Chosen domination too many times to recall them all. But this is because both: a. I profit from the dystopia/utopia in the heart of empire and have let it corrupt me. I am partially responsible for the wrongs and deeds of empire and thus my conscience shows me this by making my part in it a living-choice. And I am seeking – as one part of me to another – to make myself so sickened by my lifeway that I will turn around and begin to work against that empire, and that domination: the reality of the violence which I seem to be going through internally, but which is actually happening, for real, in external reality. And b. There is a huge nonsensical something about our culture. Violence, imprisonment, rape and molestation, murder and starvation – are all happening, and yet, we seem to believe that ‘just living one’s life’ and not fighting with our lives against these dominations, violences, and coercions is reasonable. ‘Just live and let live, man.’ That is our cultural story – (for those who are not enmeshed already or/and forever in struggle). There is an element to humyn and universal justice that doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why punish one person? ‘One man murders. A million others are starved.’

And who’s punished?

It ain’t ta be a cop about it. Fuckin Batman ‘n shit. But then – ‘What is to be doomed?’ [ 5.] How do we stop punishing, others or ourselves, and begin to attack?
I think two things are brought to bear.
One: The Left is shit. Try it… You take a left, you go towards libertarianism, and you will end up having to turn again. You turn left once, and then twice, and you’ve run off away. Back to the miasma and cowardice our culture grows from. Turn left once…and then turn left again …you will turn a third time. You’ll go over to the Right. A step in that direction is enough of a mistake. You’ll want security.
Turning is always of the Right. Siding with anything within this culture is of the Right. If you want liberation from liberation you will run away and hide. To be safe. To feel secure.
Freedom’s only security is Freedom. Instead of freedom, free in consequence for its self, deeds, and being, a person runs away and uses even their mind to do it. Instead of their refusal. Instead of their will.
I am a citizen of empire…and I’m not attacking the state? …Hhum. …I want to be an anarchist? I want to end coercion? … ‘Certainly then it is Reality itself which dominates. I will free myself from reason – and all things!’
But these are steps. Reform. Reform only. The answer to the dilemma-never-materialized is this, just this: you’ve always been free. You have always been an anarchist. No matter what direction you go in. ‘Anarchist’ is just the career description, the name tag, the code word, of the people who know this.
The second thing that comes to mind (and I’ll try to keep it short) is:
Patriarchy is shit-fucked. It’s going down.
One half the species wants to dominate the other half (speaking generally, but really!…) and the other half of the species would rather no one be dominated? Feminism and Matriarchy ain’t just changing the one who gets the dominant role. There never was a dichotomy. The game is up. [ 6.]

Look. In the end, this is the truth  I AM killing people.

The other day, after my partner fucked me up the ass in the morning and I went out to get a cup of coffee for lunch I thought, ‘Oh my fucking G-d! This money is covered with blood. I can fuckin feel it!’ I could FEEL the trades I was making…the dollar per soul exchanges that night as I went out again to buy my sugary dinner. Two souls and a severed half-soul for the last pack of smokes I got for myself. What the fuckin Hell!

Let’s burn this shit to the ground! Let’s live, if only once!!

-Fin-
) (A) (

(earth)

(wind)

(fire)

(water)

(spirit)

‘By shadowing                            Your skinny arms                     You live again
all the darkened fields                hold a lantern up                     in the shuddering light
of forgotten words                      on the brightest array              of these images
and civilian lives                         of the stars in their moorings   this valediction:
Through violence                       And summoning                       You are running
through the changing guards     the holy light                            from a rising tide
through the grinding away          on their citadels                       You are castaways’
and the furious marching            the blackening sky
By gathering                               The collapsing sun
the holy light                               the burning wall
and weathering                           that approaches our eyes…
a cast away life
and the rising fear…
The hollowness
of the flags and gods
that are raised in the air
in the wake of their raging…

PO(E)MS

{100% get in whatever it takes…}

‘Their (not Your)’

How to be alone
surrounded by so many?

To do anything
is a mistake. ‘Every time I take
a choice it turns away.’

Something blocks. The esoteric
promises, promises

I am missing something.

It is beautiful, say the wraiths
caught in the fastness;

on that flat plane…

‘It is beautiful today.’ A barrage of time –
so many wasted thought, light, skies, stars
nails, bodies; and this…ours. Oh, you’re
real…and oh, they crowd around. How
to turn away, and tunnel out? Promise. I
promise to, I promise to

never speak.
Never, ever speak. Ever.
Never speak… Never…
Never speak… Ever…
again.

‘Strive Against’

That elephant
like a walrus tusked mastodon

objects.

It was

necessary

to go to those lands, to suffer there;
it is not what brought you here,
for you are nowhere.
You
clench your teeth
and fear the weight of choice.

Let her go. In the past
she
now will not allow this.
She will not allow.
You know – you know how:
speaking to your father’s ghost without…

…Oh my love, your
voice:

‘But I tried!
I tried to find it
without reason
I tried to force
my self to try my hand
to design it
even…’

Failed
when you saw her lick her prize.

So now for closed doors
over your body.
Over your body.
Over your…

Failed
when you asked her to avert her eyes.

‘It is better that we be alone…’, the last
words of a figure drawn long like sticks…
…‘But you have never known company.’
Sick.
Thinking of other men’s daughters. When
will you become the shadow of a humyn, you?
Walk off into the void. You
tunnel under the floors, beneath the eaves
and through the walls like doors
and group your selves for wars. Means:
objects, a spittle of words. Moving the objects
and hiding alone, within the shelter of the city… A
time, right now; to leave
then,
to accomplish the slight movement like a hand
in the dark, pushing
the pieces off the edge of the table. They are ready
for that. The animals. The wars. A populace that knows.
Fury? …Here then is your fury, your anger; cold.
An effort to not let go of.

There is never a hanged man. His curses on your lips. There is never
a high way. Have you seen what those walking ways,
those directions, lead to?
Have you spoken with the unadorned?
Inside the spiders of G-d
heft their trumpets and screech and screech and wail
that your time has never been.

Yes! Yes!
Say it again! Say it again!
The vapor, blown through

pipes
never neutral,
in ways you could never
call real as a child.

Yet again!
Your enemy stands but can be touched.
You move the words to eyes who move to gather bodies
and a different order.
Oh G-d! The
fucking sticks shoved through

your body.

We pick up the trajectory of tasks, simple enough
to do; and, oh G-d! the fucking sticks shoved through!

(cry; you have not trained with guns – as yet…)
Please; of maps! Show and do not tell – of maps,
beast of stones. Climb in; it is a cabal. (cry. cry.)
(You could not let her breathe. Break. You tried
to get away.) Forgive you in a sphere
without the sense of kingdoms…
(wail. wail. wail…) Will… …(He cannot forgive you;
the…
self referential place is as broken as the unlearned.)
‘Why are you not interested in the world?’

‘Ring monkey, I love you!’ ze said, ‘You never feel pain!’
Then they asked what you thought of as you folded
to be upon the ground. Staven-in. Sleeping as a waving branch,
asleep in rest. Brothers, oh here,
not to turn it down, an
invitation to a dance of swords:
the words
without sense the mastodon shuffles on.

This is our world.
Half the time, no, more –
that bastion of prison tells you who you are.

How can we sleep?
Sick

while the spiders of G-d
grow so large that
their legs will now descend

as towers…

A blade of flowers. Oh… Oh… A flower of blades.
An end to power. Oh…hate.
And the world betrayed…
A flower of blades. And a plan orchestrated to end all power.
A silence in the shower of emoting doubt; and cowering shade.
Alone you cower.
A flower of blades. A blade of flowers. And you
all alone in your tower. With the silence
in that room.
And when you leave – the only thing
you find outside your door
is war.
 

‘Making’

Starvation. Safety. Strangers. Plight. Wanting nothing, but for flight.
Making, young world-bender; a thousand voices rise, equal of age, in
cacophony. Alone it is not a game, and though you do not take to field
you serve the interests of what witch and womyn would clear your name.
He does not sing to you. She has a two headed dragon for an arm,
a-green with flame. Withholding shame you plant your missives in the
territory of a world of loss, of foes, and in their way. Your gang, your
tribe, food and this, the light you bring them. Out of doors a frenzy.
Leaving only to complete the posted mission. Otherwise inside, beyond
forgiven; merely busy. So much to do that you can forget the world. Begin
again the fell music; melodic. It is happening, it will be built this way.
And in this way do not return to them. For… It will only happen again.
It will only happen again.

It will only happen again.

And the electric and the gasping breath of eye. Six. To remember you’re
alive. And the body and all the things you need it for. Force-try. Seven.
That you can break the pillars as you die. And the crew, the health, the
material, and the collected tribe. Eight. Twelve. For time for war must
be set aside. And tomes and reading in the light, false-light, of sums of
knowledge and the scrivening search. Twelve. Eight. Abate the terror
that they cannot be beaten. Learn volleys of arrows into their roads,
leaning. And their sick ways. It must be made. You quiver. Eight.
The night. It is a time for love and rest and bodies pulling light.

But forget-not: there is no following from that star–to another star. They
cannot see you. You will forget and draw the cloak of dark. Days-future
too, when it hurts you will
become – a path – chosen long ago can still be leapt; there is no story!
There is no following. There is no following from that past! Making, yes;
the moment bring you to free and war and open victory; the now. Sight.
For a path chosen long ago can still be leapt; for now there is no…

There is no…!
There is no…!
There is no…!
 

‘Solitude Among’

‘Again, oh my general,’ (cry),
‘how to be alone?’ ‘I knew that they would save my life,’
he responds.

No
ease of conversation please.
To suffer without the light. It is just this. Thank
to suffer
without the light; it is easier than the whole and entire –
the universe begging for your rule; turn turn turn –
turn away; to suffer without the light, – be
perpetually ready
like some joke cast in stone and immobile,
like some sense of loss and arrival, incomplete and ready,
like not remembering the screaming: ‘Lift me up! Lift me uuuuuuuup!’

never never never.

Never again.
Never. Never again. The sword is shown through gleaming tomes.
And in your bones there’s solitude among. What did they say those
nights about the tunnels? The gleaming skin surrounding the vortex, or pit or void,
or the carapace, the gleaming skin, and there in the light of the night
lamps in the street, and their words…

With!
Lies! How they wanted you to die!
Through those tunnels!
Has thee forgotten a reason to act;
not for some reasons of another;
some brigand, some susurrus of some squalor of another band.
(Lost children, vampiric, sexual and erotic rubbing, scrubbing clean to go
into the city to steal whatever can be got, and to bring about the end
of our torment.)
Without command
did you see a reason
to take to the underground,
to walk the sewers, and sleep against a wall? Do you
know where you are going,
what to make? Do you
see not a common purpose
but a common age
and contrary aims? No.
Oh to laugh. You are like vegetation.
Oh to stare silently. You are without the need for speech. Alone.
Oh to climb down stone ladders; you must work
to a contrary purpose.
Oh my general, my mind is bending into an empty fissure.
No one to protect. No reason to walk the surface.
No health to prize. No purpose in extending the hand.
No future to build…! No prize to find by coming together.
‘I am made to destroy.’ ‘I was made to destroy.’
Oh my general, the story has offered me this:
that in laboratories I will find a wondrous curse
and a wondrous weapon to grant not a future
but the destruction of something according to the story. The destruction of…

‘He cannot hear you. You are too far away.’
All that time spent in hospitals…
All that time spent in hospitals…

Like a rat! Like a rat! Medication.
Like a badger! Like a stoat! Without you for…
…too long.

§

So susurrus’s, brigands, and, without cacophony,
become bad company;
rafters stretching along the way
those hollowed webbed darks. ‘She was so happy to see you you could not splay.’

You think there is a question.
You think you should spin a theme… Conversate
with G-d, alone
when you’ve given up their goals.
These shapes!
coming to the body, so quickly. No.
The manuscript in front of you, (‘No,’ it says…),
filthy scholar of dust,
long ago you gave it up,
you put it down:

Their crowns rolling along the ground.

It is no wonder: This.
That she speaks
with hatred of those who take an advantage, their advantage, any advantage,
who press a roiling berth
into others.
You could not tell, (dear reader),
the cliff from the swell, the crowd
from the empty plain? No.

Explain the heavens. Ask for a croissant. Pay your water bill. Intercede in a country. Devour, break down, black out. Fill your self with gems of time. Take the listening and invert it till it is torture. Stop eating and tell your lover you hate them and wink. Take a walk and be a stupid head. Tongue the possibility that you’ll never ever make. Capitulate. Capitulate again. Leave. In the night. Crouch and growl and cower and follow the detailed letter…the shortest path…

Nothing but the lack of wind Don’t begin.
of the mind Don’t begin.
to name Don’t begin.
in another’s land is yours to deny. Don’t begin.

They’re all the same.

‘‘No.’ And I’ll say it again, ‘No.’’ Keep on going, through those labyrinths.

This one, he writes stories for children who have been turned into demons…

Oh! What refuge! Demons!
Oh! What refuge?, demons!?!
Oh what refuge? Darling. My darling.
Oh what refuge.
We have become –
those who ignore men,
my love; no…we have become
those who sang no songs because
we have become. No.
We have undone
a thousand reasons to explain
and are left… ‘Wha…? Wh…? Where is my sword?
Properly! Properly!, where is my sword?!’
‘You think the map springs to mind
to magnetize your identity…? Oh my general…’ (laughter) ‘There is
There is There is…’
no voice in script. Should we disappear
since we will no longer swing on the rope of another’s throat?
But if you do not use it
it will rot…
Do not
bring the killers close that way; no,
a day, coming, will push across the berth;
our revolt is climbing the stair to see itself;

we will call our comrades to a future promise.

Oh G-d! what a tunneling. Past disgust
to the point
of no longer
having recourse

to see significance
in what they would say
your actions are.

‘But it was not a thing worth something to others…’ (cry.) ‘Oh, to kill the gods!’ ‘War in their heaven. War on the gods.’ ‘A fifth column – of fucking retards.’ ‘Do not think that way of killing.’ Oh no… I heard her small body hit the pavement below; oh G-d horror, and sick. ‘You will not… You will not…’ Oh my general I will. I’ll bet all. And never stop. And it’s the laboratory, like a clock, naturally making the voices stop. But oh the clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clockwork. Oh the clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clock. Work of many tongues. Oh… Oh… The clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clockwork of many tongues. Oh the clockwork of many tongues…

The Will of the general reads:

‘Scratch upon the ground, till and rise the head.
To rout a foe with wings one must become a winged thing.’

My general, in my laboratory now, I steady myself and seek.
The hidden places in the night are all that’s left for me.
I work to kill all guards of the apocalypse, to ruin only part.
What can be rebuilt. I waste my time when I am not in path.
So stay your words, my general; my band and I have too much
to lose. And Ha!, losing everything is better than I knew.

Oh! Oh my general!
Oh! Oh, to risk your fall!

Don’t you see who you are, my love, my self? You must.
Don’t you see who you are? Don’t you see what you should trust?
 

‘Christwitch’

Take
your time
Unwind
the fog.
Bad
is good
you tell
Xtelishya.

‘No.
No frogs die.’
You don’t turn it into troughs

gluttony, destitution, …or depravation
deserts that you scrape yourself across the salt within
olderish ills, the note, high-screeching, from those three hills. That fucking ‘Pastor’, taking his children/flock/congregation, to Israel. Propound, fell-demon! You count ‘Saved!’ cause you don’t ‘have’ to feel the pain of damnation?! You have to feel it, vulture, or there is no small creature.
But you, you don’t turn it into troughs
and times you were the deer.

They leave you now. ‘When I am G-d this church is unsound,’ they say, and stare. Condemn. Condemn. But when I spat to recreate you all it was so painful. It was so hard. The mirror does only talk of the whole of hugest function and bastions whipping. Upon the gate and wall the bodies fall apart and off the nails. Worse than these I have seen. ‘We’re waiting, God chose us.’ Ah…ah my spent flower…

They leave you now. They left you then; the only difference
is that also becoming
what you were is left. (Like when you decided to keep the girl-child’s soul
in the bottle,
and later ate it…) Them too – you die;
you did do. … Didn’t you? This
is how they read you, make
no mistake. _________ … Make.

‘They lie. They llliiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!’

But colder still. You take the time to think.
Even to a mind as strong you laugh, not taken;
listening shows their sight – elephantine,
equated goat, like magic – you never knew. Never know.
They
slam the door
in equal measure.
What was that they said?

What was that they said, again, right then?
You think you are the only
and dissolve.

‘‘O child Anarchia’’

Humility.

Humility before Horror.
Humility is Honor.
And Shame, oh armor.

Fix that, affix your head
to the task; if you
are to show up outside
best if it is for a reason
you don’t need to hide.
No one has a right
to go wherever they want
in everybody’s world. Do we?
Do they? I say
where the boundary is, and
I alone defend. My

Shame cannot be
muted unless my mind
is played. What
is there to do
to right the slights of generations.

War, if so desired. And many
ways to wage. This is
Our music, ammar; Yours and
Mine. I’ll find
and You’ll find if we try
we need not lose this time.

A million factions
grasping for their freedoms,
never asked, to do what they will, what
they all will – and this
is the freedom we’ve been searching for. This. In our world we have arrived.

And yes, of course, we prefer
Our dream. The death
of domination. And must we play
the guillotine and scales and
keys? And if we choose
the wrong weapons will our Idea
be lost? Must
we grasp for strength? To ask
from them
for what we have will cost

allowance

to come
these halls We walk, to go
where We please, the world is
ours/the world is theirs…
We must learn more, how to defend,
comprehend, and contend. My one,
my love, my ammar, the way forward –

is just to strive
build strength, spread
and keep the dream a living thing.

We may be the best,
(and who is to say our idea is flawed?),
for it is not ours to empty
this world of dissent; our cause
and reason carries us
not to their deaths, but to our strength
in place,
while all other schools, factions, cadres,
array around.

They are coming! They are coming!
We must too come, and stand. Then go
further now; what can we use
to defend our home?
Tombs
and sworn salivating tongues; and fury
‘fuck-it!’ to the rest
that we have learned, and read, and used.
And now then to see: we know
our power
and then there is only to fight.
The circuit, star-chart, circumnavigation,
all these words – tools,
stolen valuables, gifts to arm,
to bring an end to them, and harm.
And to lay upon
the children now so young
whom when grown will know,
for they will choose, to whom
they belong.

And we must continue. And
we must stumble through the
dark. And we must continue,
and we must pause. And learn
all we can for we must win.
And we must win. This star-chart
lets us in. Decide, then determine
how you will begin. Though it take you years
you must try to see
the days ahead unclouded, clear
along a string of victories. So
plan out how to crumble the opaque transparent thing.
Follow a past you made, a past
You made Alone, and we will win.
And we will win. And
we will win.

We will. We will. We will.
We will win.
 

‘Trajectory, Steps’

‘Attribution Error,’ ze said. And then
the lessons went through. It is not all for you, though you have, (perhaps),
brought it about. The whole thing mirrors, but without reflection. What if
you had made a choice, even the right one, and thus all the world was made
in your image. Infinite – nearly. And scary free, and crazy. Multi-faced and multi-beinged. All is not you though; it is other, like – an ally of your self, which is, but is more than, yourself. They lie. They lie.
Do not forget, they lie and they can lie.
So they are more than you. here: first, a misery, and then a stave, newly hewn and
newly designed. Ha! Ha!!

‘No one laughs for sentimental reasons there are simple responses; they eat themselves and here you are: complaining.’
But I… But…
back

the womb,
into
Perfection demonstrates itself – to take
on the wholesome and chosen path of turning away, without deviation.
‘Turn not.’ ‘Go back.’ No. Tunnel under the prefatory history. No one
knows.
No one acts on behalf of No one
the thoughts in your heart, holds.
your heart does not open,
so say the whole letting
into a tunnel’s trajectory.

And again. The cornering of a living tesseling
without. It is here. Watch yourself. It all comes
down. ‘Does ze know?’ Take over yourself. Cloudy
terror chair; can we
endly describe

Born again to the same situation. Morning. Morning. Divide.
These thoughts – they are not what you think they mean.
Not G-d
no no no no
G-d is not this decision.
Letting go of every
whole laughing matter;
rescind and reminder.
Recall the story; you

thought that they mocked out of a position,
but there is no position. You thought
they mocked out of an accurate reading…
and so you invest. Wrong.
It is not real – the way you see it. Silence
is more useful
than drawing a comparison between the
two voices – however rescindful and right;
it is memorable memorable, or similar;
because you set it up to be what you see.

Steps continue with the tolling of the bells.
On the hours 4 times a day. But air, water, fire, earth.
And they say, ‘Never look long at what grinds your throat
against a universe which is an undefinable neighbor.’
There is a reason why class war is necessary, after all.
For lakes of fire will be forgotten : Beaten. Take this
and go : Live.
 

‘Wedidn’tneeda…’

The dream set among us we staunchly believe.
Finding a plan we gather and leave, to the forest.
The children I have chosen never to lead
Feather their cloaks with all their own choices;

Finding a plan we gather and leave, to the forest.
We didn’t need their sickness or story, we
Feather their cloaks with all their own choices;
Turn away. Their medallions are grief. So we grieve.

We didn’t need their sickness or story, we
Smash capital, careful and thunderous. No reprieve;
Turn away. Their medallions are grief. So we grieve.
Understand why it is that we leave. Though we’ll bleed,

Smash capital, careful and thunderous. No reprieve;
The children I have chosen never to lead
Understand why it is that we leave. Though we’ll bleed,
The dream set among us we staunchly believe.

(earth)

(wind)

{fire}

(water)

actions of anarchic
spiritualism

Notes.
[1.]
‘Make no peace with a lie.’
– Emma Goldman

[2.]
‘I want us to be honest about being at war – with ourselves, with our
lovers and with our “radical” community – because we are at war with the world
at large and those tendrils of domination exist within us and they affect so much
of what we touch, who we love, and those we hurt.
But we are not only the pain we cause others or the violence inflicted
upon us.
We need more direct communication and when that doesn’t help
we need direct engagement in all its horrible messy glory. As long as we make
ourselves vulnerable to others we will never be safe in the total sense of the word.
There is only affinity and trust kept.
There is only trust broken and confrontation.
The war isn’t going to end anytime soon
Let’s be better at being in conflict.’
– Dangerous Spaces, pg. 13

[3.]
Song about the Spanish Civil War titled The Eternal Return,
by – Stephen Agustin And) – The Fourth Wall.
‘Running swiftly from your lover’s death
You killed the world that took you in
You’d sooner die of thirst than believe that it still hurts,
But her laughter is still swimming in your bed
Swallowed up by your father’s lights
You weathered through the darkest nights
It’s a crumbling fortress, where all memory abides
Till she sets it right
Do you still miss the thoughts you crucified?
Does her golden hair still get in your eyes?
Are you flooding your breast with those innocent lies?
But you entertain the ghosts when you cry
Still you raise high
The wilderness you found in those wet eyes
And a great love is the final battle
Where good men go to die’

[4.]

1.
‘The question, in the terms of power, is put: What is the best way to undermine Babylon? First, before the sapping of the walls – one must understand.
Seeking understanding greedily is of Judging. All free Judges are mostly silent. All free People may end up in situations wherein they feel they must raise a voice. Do not say who others are. Seeking understanding leads always, always to a lack of passing a sentence. Without understanding one’s voice cannot stand under the oppression of any Babylonian tongue for long. Without understanding one cannot hear what one sings within the tongue. The self is strong, and needs realize its own strength. Be somewhat taken. But do not whisper. And do not demand. Every exitway is the same. As is true too though, do womyn know – all ways are; these ways are also ours.
If they know what you know do you think you can trust them, even if it is a careful trust? Rulers do not live. Ruling is dying.
We are not God. We care not to be. His demons are the friendliest when they are free, freely being asked to help our wills, not leashed with ropes and caught. Never keep one chained. Demons are not slaves. Their trajectories toward force are in your head. In your mouth – chewing. Eating. Blaspheming. To fuck God to Hell. But we do not call it thus; keep your tongue in your mouth most of the time, and chew it up and think. Think.

What’s more, men hear what they want to hear. Beings who are their own masters are just individuals. Beings who have no masters are the flame: that which will light reality itself on fire.

Deafness, thus, is simply a lacking of love.

Never, though, ever, trust a demon. {Deamons, sure…not demons, though.} For they are free. {Just like all sentient beings?} And you are never to trust any man: never trust a cop, never trust a pollution. Never trust a watchdog or a governor. Never trust anyone…anyone. Excepting for yourself. {And maybe your Dad, or Mother, yeah…}
But beware. I warn you now. I warned… And you heard me. Do you think womyn cannot hear, nor speak? The ones who you don’t love don’t not love you; they love you. What did you think love was? – Just now? This moment? And now? How does it feel? How does it feel?
Here is love. Here. Take it. For you know no other way than to receive… You are loved. You are not who you think you are. You are more. This is my warning. And:

You cannot be told the truth.
It is not allowed for you to be told.
This – is domination.

It is not allowed for you to be, at all, in any way.
It is not allowed for you to live.
This – is freedom.’

– Etienne Zadok

2.
‘Some of you are our enemies, and we will have no way to peace. Others – We continuously call out to you. Break. Break from that army that stands in the power of Death. Turn if you must. Once more or only once, {!}  whatever road you must take to get here, whatever wrongs done on the way to Damascus;

but do not weep, however many steps there are to that scaffolding – and the winding and the way…

Become a traitor to the voice of mechanization. Empire speaks only lies. Also, Empire speaks never – in truth;

for empire relinquished its living when it decided to try and keep itself alive. Does no one know life then? Come. Come over to us; we know life. Come and be given another tongue. And hear your

true name.

The kind ones will weave our life into a tapestry of death depicting the great fall that is coming.

Babylonians, ignore us at your peril.’

– Etienne Zadok

{@ or around april fifth two thousand fourteen

strength strength strength strength strength}

[5.]

‘Skies are upended, poured as milk into the tar of night. Cities become pits for fire. The last of the wicked stand with the last of the righteous, lamenting the same woe. One Hundred and Forty-Four Thousand, they shall be called, for this is their tally, the very number of doom.’

– Anonymous, The Third Revelation of Ganus the Blind

[6.]

Here is an excerpt from an essay by Zadok, an essay written about another excerpt from a fantastical book that, in all probability, does not exist in whole form, – nor ever did. But Zadok’s thoughts about the essay spur us further in our knowledge of – not just Patriarchy – but why Patriarchy must be defeated, and how to do it.

‘On Quallas

“…and they scoff at heroes, saying that Fate serves disaster to many, and feasts to a few. They claim that willing is but a form of blindness, the conceit of beggars who think they wrest alms from the jaws of lions. The Whore alone, they say, decides who is brave and who is rash, who will be hero and who will be fool. And so they dwell in a world of victims.”

The beginning of understanding Quallas’ point here is that men, he says, refer to fate, whom they believe to be ‘feminine’ or ‘of the type – divine feminine’ as ‘Whore.’ To them, men, these men…, womyn can be even called whores, as if the term could stick, as if it would not be contested.
Womyn are not whores. Fate is the mother of all, but ze is not a woman, ze is a womyn. Ze is neither man nor woman. Fate is a womyn, a being, and, if we were to personify them, it would be as creature, or humyn. Not as man. And not as human.
Humanity is, in the minds of some, defined by being both sexes – separate. Together…humanity.
This is not really the case.
Humyns are not gendered.
No humyn, (and by humyn I of course refer, here, to ‘our’ species), is a man, nor a woman. Humans can be womyn, …or they can be mean. But being mean, – the true being-of male energy that is neither of two choices but a third, – is the same thing as being womyn. There is no difference, BECAUSE GENDER IS AN ILLUSION. (Abomination, more like it… – the editor.)
The men Quallas talks of see the universe as Matriarchal, or, partially Matriarchal. And by that they mean, really, Patriarchal, but just with ‘women’ as those playing the dominating ‘half’ of the species, (or cosmos.)
Just as reality is not Capitalist, it is not Patriarchal. Nor is it, as some would conceive of it, Matriarchal. For matriarchy is not the rule over ‘men’ by ‘women.’ Patriarchy is rule. Matriarchy is freedom.
Ze is not the ‘Whore’ more than ze (Fate) is the ‘Mother.’ There is no domination; there is a relationship. With Fate, but free of capital. It is not a capitalist relationship; though, if Fate should want to charge for her services why should ze not? One should wonder if any man can afford the price…
A deal is an exchange. With Fate, as with love, nothing is exchanged because nothing is owned. Property does not exist as a Truth. In complete freedom all womyn and mean, all humyns that is, have found themselves in a reality and relationship wherein a part of the species dominates another part, the other part. It will not last – this arrangement. It will not last forever. And it will end. For it is not in agreement that we are dominated so. ‘Men’ have taken what is not theirs. ‘Men’ have decided to quash rebellion. ‘Men’ have forced their stomachs to hold down piss and shit recycled thousands of times for a hundred years now. And they call it being strong…
Our agreement, with ourselves, is that we will not live to see the permanent lock-step affixing of Patriarchy to reality as its Frame and cage. Rome will burn. The Mother (the energy, perhaps, looping round the Earth and of Earth and as Earth – of the living and dying and being born, all things, and the existence of the Planet as whole) will again be where ze should be; what has been done will be put to right; ‘Justice’ will be had.
Hear though: Justice is revenge; but, it is not punishment.
Punishment judges whereas revenge destroys, hates, and when necessary, kills.
Many men need to die.
Some of my sisters will be the ones to kill these men. Our wills cannot be broken for we do not need some man’s God to tell us that we are whole ‘once again.’ It is possible that we will have our way with this world – that power will be given to us. Or that we will take power. But, as half of a species, we do not want that exactly.
There is no power. All are free. There need not be victims.
From Dangerous Spaces: (Violent Resistance, Self-defense, & Insurrectional Struggle Against Gender) – it reads: ‘…confront gendering violence in ways that reject the ideology of victimization (passive mourning, non-violent defensive reaction to perpetual attack, victimhood as purity). … Confront it with violence that liberates: The murdered homophobe. The knee-capped rapist. The arson and the mink liberation. The smashed window and the expropriated food. The cop on fire. The riot behind bars. Work avoidance. Squatting. Criminal friendship and, the total refusal of compromise. This is the violence that liberates. The chaos that can never be stopped.’
We chose to associate freely with the means that we do because it is not a war on men, nor is it a war on means. ‘If it were then your house would be on fire.’ It is simply anarchy. Fate does not charge gold for blessed providence. Not all can make love to Fate if they only have the gold. Fate agrees with us and our selves to form an affinity that is our lives without the domination of a destination fore-placed. It is consensus, if not agreement, and we all know that it sometimes takes time to reach. Consensus or agreement is an understanding. It is not a deal. It is not an exchange.
And if we want to use power against Fate, by taking power, and going where we please, then ze (Fate) would most commonly respect that moving, though ze would certainly shore up their defenses.
Quallas’ men, since they know themselves to be oppressors and have no interest in conversing, nor freely associating, decry Fate, denounce and mock. They mourn their Patriarchal world, and at the same time lay the blame for it on a ‘woman.’ They say ‘She fucks everyone. You just gotta pay for it.’
What they miss is that Fate is a free being/thing.
Not being a slave Fate can walk away from any man.’

– Etienne Zadok

‘The shape of virtue is inked in obscenity.’ – Ainoni Proverb

Further Info.

Contacts.

Contact our Press [M.(A).P.] at: myopicapocalypsepress@riseup.net
(For NO profit we are happy to work with people who wish to see their work turned into printed material, or into a zine or set of zines. If you’re interested in discussing your work, be it any kind or quality, or you wish to be able to disseminate to the community or have your work disseminated for you, contact us here.)

Contact our Mobile Zine Library at: arrowsforthetyrant@riseup.net
(We distribute free zines and literature in various locations around Honolulu and Oahu, and the neighbor Islands. Supplies for display and hand out are available for no cost, (though donations are useful ‘n shit). We do not print or distribute for profit. This rag, our other zines, and a catalogue listing what we carry, are free upon request.)

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*If you’re serious about (A)-Spiritualism, organizing for Hawaiian Autonomy, or just want to talk, then hit me up for real: insurrectiontocomeonedaysoon@riseup.net
For information about our weekly Anarchist Reading Group write to us there as well.

Cultivate War.
http://www.submedia.tv/
http://www.residentantihero.com/
http://residentantihero.bandcamp.com/

Home

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InfoShop

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The Eight Christs.
Tsuramah, The No-God;
The Matriarch of Feminism;
The Masterless One;
Death, the Horseman;
They-Who-Bring-Collapse;
The Hidden Christ;
The Blind Seer – the Ally;
Hecate and Her Chosen.

Recommended Readings, Interpretations, And Other Cannon Fodder.

Books
In Babylon
The Dispossessed
Always Coming Home
Solitude (short story)
Anarchy And Christianity
Christian Anarchism (a political commentary on the gospel)
Days Of War, Nights Of Love
The Prince Of Nothing (trilogy)
The Aspect Emperor (trilogy)
Outing The It That Thinks (essay)
Web Of Light (rites for witches in the new age)
A Pagan Ritual Prayer Book
The Spiral Dance
The Fifth Sacred Thing
Collected Theodore Roethke
Collected Anne Sexton
Revolutionary Letters (Diana di Prima)
Spain In Our Hearts (Pablo Neruda)
Revolutionary Women (a book of stencils)
The Conquest Of Bread
Nihilist Communism (a critique of optimism…)
Demanding The Impossible

Zines
Call
The Coming Insurrection
Don’t Die Wondering
It’s Easy To Attack
Willful Disobedience
Dangerous Spaces (…insurrectional struggle against gender)
Against The Logic Of Submission
At Daggers Drawn
Learning Good Consent
Fire To The Prisons
The Anarchist Resistance To Franco
Vengeance

Comics
X-Men Legacy (vol. 2)
Tekkonkinkreet (‘Black and White’)
Children Of The Sea
Eden: It’s An Endless World!

Bands
(Hed) P.E.
Austra
Stephen Agustin And The Fourth Wall
Esben And The Witch
Serj Tankian
Florence And The Machine
Sole
Behind Enemy Lines
Blackbird Raum
The Spectacle
P.O.S.
Catharsis
Songs: Ohia
The Knife / Fever Ray
Resident Anti-Hero
Portishead
Circle Takes The Square
Zola Jesus
A Silver Mount Zion (etc.)

Films
The Master
Winter’s Bone
I’m Still Here
House Of Sand
Drive
Oslo, August 31st
Shame
Melancholia
Antichrist
Pom Poko
Synecdoche, New York

the moral of the story

{new flag forth coming: will be the anarchist flag

for

Rule By The Young – Anarchism:

Rule By The Young

=

Anarchism

=         =

Anarchism-Anarchism

“anarchism without adjectives”

anarcho-regulare-adulescentium

“thought we liked it horizontal, butterflies!!!!   ; )”

<— —>

…the flag looks like the normal

anarcho-spiritualism flag:

except, replacing the blue triangle are orange n’

silver stripes, as a background. then, across the

thing like an arrow there is a grey horse or pony

with ribbons in their hair and mane and tail hairs,

and, a bridle of ribbons loose, and not tied.   the

ribbons are every color of the rainbow and more,

and the horse or pony has a horn on its great an

proud and humble and celebratory and ready top

of the head for it is a unicorn and the horse, if you

are an adult and are looking at the flag, it changes

based on age, or pony, if you have not yet become

an adult when you are looking at the flag, or lots of

flying flags of ‘dinis in potestatem adulescentium’, it

changes upon the age you are when the are looking

at the flag, that is, it is a magical flag n’ the horse, or

pony is…a unicorn

.

<–     **     –>

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