Every Meaning For FIre

Every Meaning For Fire

and we shall rise on a tidal wave of silence

there has to be a way to take into the reality of the situation the potentiality of reaching a continual figuring of the right way to go. and the whole thing that we can do is have a way to go. which is good. i can go outside and go into the woods and lay down and die, and that will be the way that the whole thing will begin.

and will we go into the whole? the figuration of the reason we must burn is this: there is every meaning for fire. if i am to come to a land where the only thing there that exists is this fire then it is good to keep the self as robust as possible – while coming to learn of this land of fire… so eat. if they think that they can out think me, then damn it, i am willing to admit that i am being able to be out-thought. this would grant me victory in no way… the foe can come into through the door right now and take me out and leave both the hordes collectiums in alignment regulare… this is the truth. is a whole and continual.

for armchair anarchists are the only smaller vermin in the whole of the earth. it is possible that you are the one that has taken it too far. if oil, oil. you. you. you are nothing at all. you are nothing. you are nothing at all. you are nothing. you have been forgotten. you are not the old book nor the old ways. you will find that you can breathe even though you should not be able to. you are more real for you are choking to death. now you are coughing and choking. now. fuck the police. and now. and now. and now. fuck the cops, ha ha, ho ho!

and now, i pity you not enough. pity the weak. pity the weak. a month of blessings to you. why not make sure that the farther that we can go is not also the best? that here is why this reality will come into being. it will be created and the self will be the one which creates it. it is just as possible that they will be the one. they come in the door and… there they are! they threaten misdirection. but it is not confusion. it is perfection, so do they ask the question. (dostoevsky lined up to be shot) i am not two steps behind, not a puppet of anyone but myself. there is a whole ring and it is entire. i will now plan out why the one that wrote the dolphin books is the one who had the greatest idea in the history of the world. do not ready yourself for that ring. the band is too tight and must be worn around the neck, on a rope, a chain, of metal, not silver.

rhyme.

what is the right reason that the liberal must be quiet?

part one:

their kindness is the reality of not being known. you can hear the other people screaming. the truth is the horror and that whole thing you become: since we don’t need this.
whole? collective? sure. and more. the knife is the sword and the light is the moon.

part two:

girl with a gun.

part three:

i know that everything i eat is not being eaten by another. the kid, the man, is demanding that i leave the house. and if i walk outside I can greet them. the perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect undesirablefeatoffirewehavetheweaponsandchance is not; i chose. choose.

and then go to look him in the eye…

(this is the further hidden truth: that everyone knows you and knows every single thing that you will ever do and so the purpose of them, for you, is to not say anything to you and to leave you alone while you work at imprisoning them or freeing them, just as i do, within a system in which i do not work and does not work for me, although with, and so the whole rest of the world works and must work, when anyone and everyone else can just simply opt out too, so i know, as if knowing could be real… the reason the world starves is because a natural order has been overthrown. thrown. thrown. thrown. thrown. thrown. thrown. thrown. thrown. into the ray against the fracas? never. into the fracas against the ray of blinding light. the whole of history is truly the existence of the experience of each soul happening individually and of a part; but some of them rebel. and currently millions of those who have rebelled are behind bars. but, not all rebel for a reason? no. illegality is key. legal codes are fraught with stupidity. benevolence seems to not exist at all?

does this make us nihilists? yes. Pose any question you wish, no?
i will only answer
in atomic bombs and people figuring out ways to end their lives so as to not die of starvation?

you think i created this? how could i have created a place in which everything that deserves to happen to me is, most likely, happening to other people? i go into a trace four of war, in which our enemies actually want to kill us and we actually want to kill them. cops, i tell you. i tell you! and this, this, is demonocracy. parliamentary demonocracy. or, this is the republic. it is one, or, it is the other. this is not, not not, not the republic. does is. you know it makes a difference. that’s why the offices were torched. and the truth is that it is happening. and the truth may include the fact of being not-fully known, but, even if that fact is not true, for some facts are not true, for fact is hereby defined as: fact = ‘verb’,

then

only hell protects them.

to make an accoutrement of that which you will be devouring shortly…

savor it, lullaby.

we are
not the prophet of the past. for the future is as real as the past. ‘earwa is our future’ sounds like a stupid claim, and it is. rope. guillotine? the hardest part is going out and showing face in public, but, when you have been made into a clown and your voice cannot be heard in the air in the placeswhere you have seen footage of you must tell them your voice is in the heads of all those who exist; whippoorwill. but… those who exist do not have to feel the hellfire, unless they wish to make the choice. utter horror. the void. the void is always behind you. and this means that the fight is behind you. is it best to die now? yes. no.
maybe.
who will come be my better? and you did not. and you did not. and you did not and you did not. and you did not. and you did not. and you did not and you did not. and you did not. and you did not. and you did not and you did not. and you did not. and you did not. and you did not. no.)

and will we go into the whole? the figuration of the reason we must burn is this: there is every meaning for fire.

(our comrades will not be let out you say? a thousand american anarchists? behind bars. and you expect what from us? service? subservience? i try to become a womyn, and i do splendid and ridiculous things, and if i have had enough of the leaf i will then be, am, the whole of the joke, ha ha, and will live here and never leave. ho ho! did you see me?! did you see me?! mommy did you see me catch the leaf from the air and put it over my head to turn into the raccoon? daddy, dad, father of this body, did you see me catch the leaf in the air and then put it over my head so that i could turn into a raccoon? no. sadsad. you are dead; and I will figure out what that means. the brother of this body says that the time to redeem the fallen ones, the fallen angels, is not yet done. we must still try.
big brother, did you see me catch the leaf in the air as it fell and then put it over my head and turn into a raccoon? did you see me big brother? yes you saw me, big brother. the younger is a god craser, killer, mind wiper, figurine, fragrance of shit and offal and whole of the pattern of living with and not for there is the code for the truth of either story, they want to live with you but you stink! and so the man cries at the end of the story. it is what is true! it is what is true! they love! they love! there is only peace. this: is peace. and this is peace. that we have not the golden gardens with the hanging vines and the sun shining and the gold and domes and gardens and shit but instead poor people’s cars and nothing on our rooftops except state funded solar paneling; or: the war in the streets for the sake of someone coming up with a better plan for how to feed the whole world – for starters. mock this. does anyone have a better plan?

no?

what a humble no. what a humble demon. did you shake on the stand because you know that i cannot be beaten and so the truth will be felt by all, and i and i alone will go to the fire. i was the only other one in that row who did not shake, and my brother-in-law did not shake, as it is said. do you think he shook? when did he shake? that place, in the north, is empty and much has been stolen. where are you? you are inside. we must stop the machine of global genocide. we must stop the machine of global ecocide. happyhappy.

destruction is not a tool, the easiest of tools, in that quest? happyhappy. the fruit of a dying order! succulent! is it not the harshest to eat, the sourest in your mouth? our mouths are happyhappygunfiresplittooththeflagofthetoothsplitgunspliceany. any!!!!! five!
you all will not starve with me? starve to death is the cutting off of the nose and the whole and entire. i am calling out to everyone but you have already answered me, all of you’s. the war is happening. it is true. everyone knows. ho ho ha ha!

you think we have not been attacking for years? i’ll repeat it until it makes sense: spain was a salvo.

yes.

then why am i not attacking? this is the question that it turns on. witch! watch it turn. to not become.)

if i am to come to a land where the only thing there that exists is this fire then it is good to keep the self as robust as possible – while coming to learn of this land of fire… so eat. if they think that they can out think me, then damn it, i am willing to admit that i am being able to be out-thought. this would grant me victory in no way… the foe can come into through the door right now and take me out and leave both the hordes collectiums in alignment regulare… this is the truth. is a whole and continual (behavioral pattern that will show you what happens when someone decides to be the persyn they want to be. i am going to a place where i will have no arms. i have been to a place where i had my arms bound. i think that the fight is not against those who would do this to other people because i have been assimilated… so it is. but the violence is real? why do you not read the koran?)

and you can wholistically go into the place where you can have the whole and entire direction to go in. and when you find that the whole thing is correct you find that all the other people look totally different from you, and so there must be different considerations of beauty. so says the one who is thinking of fire. excepting for what you choose to show me… (media./humans. you taste so good… what war is good for what war is good for what war is good for; the sorcerers hang in the sky, they are the air waves, and the magic, nay, sorcery that they unleash out of their smiling mouths and glowing eyes is that which shapes the world according to the awkward mythologized reality of the construct of a technical system. marijuana is the only way to truth? allah is the solitary god, meaning me? in what direction do they pray to? all directions. to mecca. yes, assuredly. not to you. never in your direction, for you are not the prophet, and all that is existent in the world today is one false prophet against one true? balderdash. does the moon know about the forest? no! the moon knows more than the how or the heavens. the moon knows more than the cow, you hear your self be asked by a mistaken form of racism… long a bitter torn. _______ there is your answer.) (but you know this. you know that they are kings of an older kingdom. you know that they have nothing left to sell except what was hidden under them for what purpose? and so rich kings they are, and poor kings too. but if we leave out class, if we forget class then we are doomed to only go into the projections of possibility accordingly how history has not transpired; that is, false history. perhaps herstory absolves. what do we know of the market, fool?
perhaps mystery is as ungrateful as a barren blood cracked desert floor, blackened, wasted, and as the physical is waste, only to taste: sand is life, as much as water, or do we not need our footing?)

so why is it that i look at not much else? why, for instance, do they tell me not to? (do it. fucking blanket of that which has been commodified. i would not go to war for a corporation. but a younger brother sings the destruction of this land in a clear voice! lift it up! and so fires must be set to everyone who is not free, every standing terrace, and every cacophony of a warehouse. all must burn, so say the magicians who are not bound; yet there is only one wizard who speaks alone and is unable to make sense of what they do, for their arcane song does not transform a world, but is only a form and source of the mundane within it. this one wears garments of skulls and ak-47’s, embroidered in silver thread on a nightening sky cloak. thus, having no power at all is equal to having an equality of power. it must be so and this is why:

drugs are a mark of imperfection. our way of life is unavoidable because we are in the better of four worlds, and so the food rations are being handed out left and right and the land too – all over the world – with a perfection of balance. you need not my permission to ask for this to happen. your system merely needs to not fatten me on the livid grey flatness and life, or well fed and horrifically fattened eaters of food, who, imbecilic; the truth is never sold. i am fatter than the fat. who eats? who can even tell? the metaphor for food that comes closest to reality is the metaphor for possibilities.

which is not true. so i have misjudged.

if you think that you can misjudge then we will have a running race! ha! for armchair anarchists are the only smaller vermin in the whole of the earth.)
if you think that you can misjudge then we will have a running race! ha!

rhyme.

what is the right reason that the liberal must be quiet?

(for the revolutionary plots the death of their enemies. the revolutionary’s enemy is the system. war without enemies is the strangling of the very mechanisms of the world. they must all be stopped, and where we have ground to a halt and all sit and do nothing we will have succeeded, but only if too we do not eat. – and so you have had time to climb! here you are! you have had time to climb! and your life is not forfeit! you are your own and the past can be undone by being reunderstood in the present even though the understanding that carried one through all of the past is true as that which is now the present now remembering the past; and we hae come at last to the day in which you are now alive. welcome.)

here is a song that is not a liberal song:

“playing with rocks. breathing in the chalk.”

but with all respect due, and more, to the feminists, and especially my comrades, the anarcho-feminists.

part two:

girl with a gun.

here is another song that is also not a liberal song:

“planning for after my comrades are found innocent
i will decide to turn out the idea of materiality
In one fell swoop of a four part plan –
– to starve from sleep until the first stop is reached.
– to have alien blood in and out of my eyes.
– to localize and etherburn.
you know the days, my eyes, from tongues, we have acquired

– so gather fuel, gather fire
whoever I cannot kill my daughter will
step farther
two ingredients and then a choice. one. two. three. four.
and. still. death lives on.
i saw them pull the skin off the hand of my comrade. did that not happen?
there is a better plan.
a more profound plan.
a greater darkness.
who can bring it about?”

here is a third song that is not a liberal song:

“the one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs to the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. the one who comes from heaven is above all.”

that speaks of the lord of all the covens. all nine. that’s at least one hundred and seventeen coveners. here is a fourth song that is not a liberal song:

“hello
i will grant you one
wish

goodbye
you will loan me infinite
hopes

it’s going pretty good
okay
so stop worrying about tomorrows”

the fifth song comes at the end.

their kindness is the reality of not being known. you can see that ignorance is the tool of all things outside of the occluded frame. i know not people. i know not races. i know not friends. i know not hatred. i know not cowardice excepting in moments and years.

with no friends it is good, for there is never a reason to die. the judge knows this and agrees. the judge is ready to die. i am the judge are a kin and a blam to one another; that is, we must now wish, even though it is better to dance, fool?

write of the queen again. i like it when you write of the queen. god said kill ‘em all. it wasn’t but three days ago when some passerby quoted their words. the sorcerer. wizard, sorcerer without a school; for now. and i thought ‘i am alone’. but already there are those that steal and set fires. already there are those that kill. but then why are our governors not dead? aloha, most likely. defined as what? the decision to die rather than to both take a life and/or deny another persyn the exit from their own ignorance of whatever path and way that they take and that being of their choosing? hell-o. hello is not aloha. hell-o is merely a reminder for those that share space with the beast of love, the clown of hate. the perfection of unwanted thought. perfection. thirteen. for I have not heard war, therefore I will hear both beast and clown, to me, mine, in my soul. ease. gentleness. greathearted reckoners. he cannot look in my eyes because he sees my other eye, and so he can look into it, so so much compassion! to disrespect them would be to wish to kill? no. they want cops dead as much as i and more.

abandon not your old ways, but the vista of evergrowing potentialities opens up into, at least, death and life, and so, for the least, the loss, the true loss, of nothingness. praises be to the brave for some will curl up to hibernate only to see signs of their cowardice pass like the nighttime into the fragrance of the hero.

spears. he talks to his father.

‘father, do you hear me. beyond the grave you forget. i remember. i will remember. only her. i will be a lion, father. i will be a lion.’

(of course it is a joke, for they could take me out at any moment. you think this is insane ramble? read on
vicious tools. there is but one voice. this is the joke of murder: they know that you intend to, and they
know that you are planning to, and they are ready for you when you come, although it is possible that they
will not be. what did you think not naming names meant? the ammar holds me and tells me not to be the devil,
but, we all know who the devil is…

the father is the one who is less in danger. is the main one a father? yes, and so we do not threaten their progeny.
laugh,
past reality.
laugh, meaningless eatery of the lesser of the earth. the Earth, i love you, and mother and triumph.
cowardly dog. will peace bring you the end you seek?
the Goddess does not like warlike men. Hecate is her. is reality. and so torment will come upon the one who chooses to kill, rape, and harm. but, for you for which this was unclear… this is not a game. for there are those of us who have already chosen to kill. scream. scream all you want, the system generates the faux or fake venue of prison, or, the reality of it. scream all you want with your voice or your wealth or your power, your cohesion, whatever you speak your authority as. the beans still are smaller than the barrel. i have never seen a war torn country? but it is real. i can trust that it is real, like dust of moth’s wings as big as solar systems i can trust that such realities do suck life and vomit bird food digested gumball machine systems. and so death is meted out.
one does not sleep through the apocalypse.
one has to get out onto the road. one has to go out of doors. but it is not good to scream in crowds marching, well, maybe only cause they are not here now. but what is better than to secretly work on a plan to kill those who must die to at the least prove to oneself that in reality not only do people really die, but, that the state is our enemy and that the state is the one killing. but we too can kill. at most it proves we can fight back. war. class war. war between classes – spiritually. at least it provides one’s damnation. at this we squirm.

for you… for even my enemy… for even i… for even you… imprison.

if i am to love you, and not kill you, or end your particular way, then you must forfeit, we say, for this way must end. or is your way that all of the whole world is heaven? wage that it is not! is it only i who walk in the shadow of a false and made-up reveille for battle, therefore i must do what i must, therefore, only the leaders must die, those who will take, those who will protect the martyrs and the leaders and protect those who will feed from the battle’s blood. we must, i am sorry, for they certainly exist, work against those who are chosen to guide us. spears.
he talks to his father. he tells me to eat. my weapon is train wrecks and bad teeth. and toothache fingers, oh the spells. yes, I really want to bring the fire outside. inside too. inside too.

the illusion, always fronts the same description: that there is nothing left to do for anarchist utopia; having had it arrive already, or, having it be too improbable to achieve.

the true sight, however, is that my heroes are those that struck back. and they should not give me up, but keep me in chains, and spare the visionary, the prophet, the messiah. the god.)

part three

and then go to look him in the eye…

and will we go into the whole? the figuration of the reason we must burn is this: there is every meaning for fire.

excepting for what you choose to show me… so why is it that i look at not much else? why, for instance, do they tell me not to?
which is not true. so i have misjudged.
if you think that you can misjudge then (how to write plans for something when everything that you do is monitored by people that are smarter than you? cloak yourself in the flag and the first amendment. they are both there for those who cannot hold their entire plan running in their head. so what of the malformed copies of tree that we will guard with our lives? oh… money? ha. can you keep, with humor, in head everything that must be done? no. it must be written. numbered. but not here? goodbye. goodbye.

but, since you know me you know that i can say one thing and mean an entirely different thing. the casual accoutrements of court are the best way to notice this, are they not? why ‘they’ ‘dehumanize’ – speak of etiquette and not wasting time and judging correctly and being just and keeping all free and discussing matters proudly and perfectly as possible so that no one gives up their freedom, within a kingdom of equals around which are surrounded walls, out of which we send as many emissaries for assistance and peace as we do birds of death, whose fire screams beneath them, truly?, yes, and less.

but preaching to the choir. so here is the plan.)

we will have a running race! ha!

and now, i pity you not enough. pity the weak. pity the weak. a month of blessings to you. why not make sure that the farther that we can go is not also the best? that here is why this reality will come into being. (the purpose is to kill as many systems of power within the self as possible. so we choose objects. really. it is a question. what must go? it is a reality. no one. what must be consumed? the walls of illusion. the walls of stone.) it will be created and the self will be the one which creates it. it is just as possible that they will be the one. they come in the door and… there they are! they threaten misdirection. but it is not confusion. it is perfection, so do they ask the question. (dostoevsky lined up to be shot) i am not two steps behind, not a puppet of anyone but myself. there is a whole ring and it is entire. i will now plan out why the one that wrote the dolphin books is the one who had the greatest idea in the history of the world. do not ready yourself for that ring. the band is too tight and must be worn around the neck, on a rope, a chain, of metal, not silver.

rhyme.

what is the right reason that the liberal must be quiet?

part one:

part two:

girl with a gun.

here is a last song, a song that is also not a liberal song:

“i remember the night
by the hideous electrical station, and that horrible monster
in the night
near where there was the power plant and the monstrosity of its mordor in the sky. only those who will not stop, but will strike are they
who wish to be free from what it is impossible to be free from.
stop work. play. play.
worship.
this, in your falling to the lowest rank. what is
necessary is not being done enough. the mind balks at its own laziness. why the stories of the end of the world? where are they going for us? they are popping off, being written,
these very moments,
as the old world falls to its destined pieces.”

spears. he talks to his father.

‘father, do you hear me. beyond the grave you forget. i remember. i will remember. only her. i will be a lion, father. i will be a lion.’

(do i have forty two beliefs that must be destroyed? how to write plans for something when everything that you do is monitored by people that are smarter than you? am i wasting time doing this? i remember when she lay with me in the morning. forty and two decided fortifications to be put to the torch. i will write out a plan that is not a plan and so you will be forced to judge me on a metaphorical plan that does not mean what it says it means, much like other lies… i will speak of obstacles. of songs. of building the party. and if done right a response, then. but a gutless call for action ends in a pointless act. only those actions and things and persyns who and which can really stop the course we are on are relevant. only a plan to replace it is relevant enough to make destruction relevant? who has this ability? it is greater than that, and it is mine. you are not silver. i saw my only true love in an invisibility cloak. since the time is coming when we must make the best of it you will see what happens after i find out that you’ll never know – that i never knew, or, we’ll see what happens after you show me that you know, and then i go looking for you until I find you. and I must first prove myself. i did; last night. how can I keep you safe?)

outro:

the passionless machines of reason sing:

‘The war, I choose to believe, is real.
The other option is to live inside this box and die slowly from starvation, or to live going out only sometimes to live a life into my old age remembering how I could have fault, and all the real and true reasons for not doing so. but I do not need that, and it will be proved that it is unneeded for all is needed that exists, (and in the future I will already have done it), and so I will not need any more proof other than the proof of my whole life as it was lived, and, a justice that is a lie for company is not to judge, unless I am wrong, for which I will claim admittance but not repent, if can, and I will turn to your forces and continually attack them within my own mind until the day I die.

Here are the thought-types, that is, the philosophical constructs, that must be killed, or burned to the ground. Of other methods we will talk briefly. You made them burn. But they were taken away. Just like the 5th of April, 2014. We acknowledge other ways of living. They are: the strike, the slow-down, the boycott, the paper route.

But we choose, the passing out of propaganda, (1,000,000 died to print these words. FUCK YOU; THANK YOU GOODBYE, THANKS FOR CREATING ME BUT I’M NOT DOWN FOR THE ABUSE.), the getting out the good words, the burning, the killing, the starving oneself and the sacred heights reached through any form of intoxicant, the publishing and the internet, the making and selling of clothing and jewelry, the selling of the written word, the revolution, ‘oblivion’ to quote a pragmatist, and the ally-ship, and the not running away, and the running awayfor a time and hiding, and the realization of adreadm, and the realization of a dream in the movements of a soul among souls without domination or exploitation. We must beg. My generation, can you hear the call, my beautiful generation, can you hear the call, everybody watch Babylon FALL. Bbbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeesssss! My whole generation is going. The next generation of humyn’s do not go to Hell, because this generation goes; if you are over 21 in thirteen moon’s time you will go, if not, then you don’t ever go. ever. We must beg. We must be. We must burn. We must beg. For we will not work, will not change our decision.
For we will not work. So then we choose stealing too. theft. They kill and then they laugh at those who want to kill (we know the cut off limitations, since there are), ‘boom!,’ (fuck cops, fuck pigs, and fuck the police),they kill and then they laugh at those who want to kill, but only because they underestimate us. The book. The reading. The studying. The working. The post. The headquarters. The friends that are not humyn being protected. The attack that is not preemptive for their side has already decided to attack, and so we are merely responding. or what? is this a nation united? NO. our flag is black.

Jealousy of the perfect ones.

-fin-

As gay as possible. As insurrectionary as, ‘Okay, kill me.’ We’ll find this: that you are as unable as you believe you are unable. The whole and laughing matter is a trope into the dark. Okay, then what? ‘Yes. Stay away from people. I have to be alone now and here, and I have to heal and rest, rest and heal. And I need sleep. Good. Glad that the tidings were good.
Immortals are so strange.’

‘Take it easy.’

Immortals are so strange.

-0-

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For information about our weekly Anarchist Reading Group write to us there as well.

Babylon Will Fall.
They knew. You know. We know.
It was over before it even began.

De-Occupy the People’s Land. Burn the Prisons.
Fuck the System.

Every Meaning For Fire

‘for this life of luxury that i lead and live on my terms alone – certainly when faced with the truth and the reality of existence in the Outside after death i will burn and burn and burn…
remembering, for a moment, those few moments alone, suddenly this afternoon in the sunlight, that i am damned made me laugh out loud in joy and uproar and gratitude.
more and more i want to live. knowing what awaits. because of what awaits. in joy because of what awaits and its unchangable solidity.’

‘though you lose your soul you shall gain the world.’