25 Sep 2011

Open message to my arresting officer

It has been so long since you were paired up with me and two guys i never knew (or know)
and paraded us around the oily shithole known as "Guantanamo on the Hudson".

You were apologetic, understanding and kind. Your dismissive estimate of a 3-4 hour hold before we could resume our protests was totally incorrect.

I hope that when you are looking at a jury of my peers you will remember you are one, too.

I hope you will remember who told you to pen us in on the sidewalk and why.

I hope you can draw the shortest, most legitimate line from yourself to Chief Timoney to G.H.W. Bush.

I hope that because of what you were paid to do to me, you are not doing it today to them.

I remember you as a proud Italian-American badass... I remember you liked us and felt bad.

When the N.Y.P.D. becomes as permissive of peaceful protest as they are of corporate power

success is possible.

I remember the Bush I savings and loan scandal, I remember moving hundreds of pounds of boxes of bullshit paperwork out of a bullshit abandoned office next to a great diner in the heart of Upper Darby.
I remember how proud we were of smart bombs and drones
and bull markets.
I remember being entrapped and falsely arrested and put in solitary confinement
I remember being maced two different times as i stood in my cell naked, defiantly screaming.
I remember being forced by police to enter a loony bin and then getting a $40,000 bill for it.

What do you remember?

Class is Warfare

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Beautiful Babylon Babies Unite !!!

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,
Love Trumps hate.

Hits of the Month

Poetic HyperLinks Defeating the Impossibilities of Peace

Also sprach Zarathustra to the brothasistahs lost out in the woods…
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
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