This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO

DIE!



Warmonger - war·mon·ger - [wawr-muhng-ger, -mong-] noun
a person who advocates, endorses, or tries to precipitate war.
[Origin: 1580–90; war1 + monger]
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CAUTION
: This video contains a very simplistic and dreadful message.
(If you consider patriotism to be a virtue then you should have no problem with its meaning.)




The group is "Dope"...but this isn't about a band’s name. The song is "Die Motherfucker Die" ...but this isn’t about the title of this particular song. It’s about the fact that so many, following 9-11 and prior to Afghanistan and into the occupation of Iraq, have used this song as a template for expressing their rage and fear and sorrow. It is also this template that screams "vengeance" and "revenge" toward a phantom enemy. If these citizens could, would but reflect on the meaning behind such, they might see that they are projecting an image of themselves more than of some phantasmal adversary.

The fact that so many, not a majority to be sure, but so many found and find nothing wrong with taking a simplistic song with a dreadful message and applying it to video of the war in Afghanistan and/or the occupation of Iraq and its peoples destruction is precisely what I and many of my blogging and non-blogging friends are fighting against; a blind love or devotion (patriotism, nationalism) to country
that leads to nothing but more blindness and overwhelming rage
that cannot and will not dissipate until
every last drum of oil has been stolen,
every brown skinned person is dead or maimed,
every Muslim is bowed to empire and Christianity,
and every flag replaced with Old Glory!

That is not an attainable goal. Completely unachievable, and yet it is the very goal that the US government is proving it wants and that an uninformed public can’t see for a lack of reasoning skills, gluttony and complacency. This, the objective, is the end-game, the final stand or it surely will be if we continue down the witless path of vengeance and conquering the world, we will pay an exceedingly heavy price and likely not be around to even know it.

The video above is most sad, despicable, and most unworthy of praise. It is the rot that has swept over this country more since 9-11 than at any other time in our history. Kill. Kill. Kill. If we do not stop saying, "Die motherfucker die" and dropping bombs and firing guns and slaughtering for oil we will soon find ourselves at the short end of a colossal, all-inclusive stick…
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With that I offer an ode to our need to use Dope's "Die Motherfucker Die" or any other senseless song or rant as anthem for the United States of America's marching music for the theft of godforsaken oil from relatively defenseless countries or as anthem for our ruthless and mighty vengeance of a day that trembles on our streets and collapses upon our hearts, but will never and can never be avenged or righted. This rage, this vengeance has become us… and we it.


The ghouls have all gone home.
Hell… They were never here.
It was your own expression
Floating within your fear,
Your own miserable manifestation.

Die, warmonger! Die!
Thrash no more your hell’s plague!
Die your death away,
Annihilate your starvation
And feed your joy instead.

The apparition is not unfamiliar,
It is your face, your own
Hovering in the skies.
O! Bring your wrath down
And eradicate the lies!

Die, warmonger! Die!
Thrash no more your hell’s plague.
Die your death away, die!
Bring your finishing breath down
And crack large the sky.


© 2008 mrp/tpm


Rolling along "A"...
Open Letters to George W Bush - A Level Gaze - A Long Tough Blog - A New Chautauqua - A Noble Undoing - A Poetic Justice - Ablogination - Adgita Diaries - Almost There - Alternate Brain - AmericanGoy - Americans United - An Unfound Door - Angel Feathers Tickle Me - Another Point of View - Anti-New World Order - Aristocrats - Army Girl - Army of Dude - Art of Mental Warfare - Art Threat - Austin Permie - Axis of Justice

MEAN MEN AND SHAMS (ode to Anonymous)



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)


Poetryman, I am Anon.
I am Anon.
Anon I am.

That Anon-I-am!
Than Dave or Denver-I-am!
I'm much like
that Anon-I-am!

Do you like
mean men and shams?

I do not like them,
Anon-I-am.
I do not like
mean men and shams.

I would not like them
here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not
over there!
I do not like
mean men and shams.
I do not like them,
Anon-I-am.

Poetryman, would you like them
in your house?
Would you like them
if they're a louse?

I do not like them
in my house.
I do not like them
if they're a louse.
I do not like them
here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not
over there!
I do not like mean men and shams.
I do not like them, Anon-I-am.

Poetryman, would you praise them
in your dreams?
Would you hold them
in high esteem?

Not in my dreams.
Not with esteem.
Not in my house.
Not in your house.
I would not praise them here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not
over there!
I would not praise mean men and shams.
I do not like them, Anon-I-am.

Would you, Poetryman? Could you, Poetryman?
In a bar?
Praise them! Praise them!
There they are!

I will not,
Cannot,
Too damned bizarre!

You, Anon, do praise them.
It's easy to see.
You sure like them
in your reality!

But I do not, will not, give them that.
Not in my life! So let me be!

I do not praise them in my dreams.
I do not hold them in high esteem.
I do not like them in my house.
I do not like them, they’re a louse.
I do not like them here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not over there!
I do not like mean men and shams.
I do not like them, Anon-I-am.

A plane! A tank!
A bomb! A gun!
Could you, would you,
Their kind shun?

Yes! I do not, will not give them that.
Not in my life! So let me be!

I will not, cannot, in real life.
I will not, cannot, it's just not right.
I will not praise them in my house.
I will not praise them in your house.
I will not praise them here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not over there!
I do not like mean men and shams.
I do not like them, Anon-I-am.

Nay!
Not here in the dark!
Or there in the dark!
I can't, I won't, not in the dark!

I will not, cannot,
in the park.

Will not, cannot, too much pain!

I will not, cannot,
in the rain.
Not in the dark. Not on a train.
Not in a park. Not in a tree.
I do not like them, Anon, you see.
Not in my house. Not on Fox.
Not with a flag. Not with a Glock.
I will not praise them here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not over there!

It is you who likes
mean men and shams...

I do not
like them,
Anon-I-am.

How could you, can you,
watch them warring?

I cannot,
sit idly by
just ignoring!

Poetryman, I can sit
and watch them warring...

I cannot, will not, on a ship.
I will not, will not, flop or flip!
I will not praise them in the rain.
I will not praise them on a train.
Not in the dark! No siree!
Not in a tank! You let me be!
I do not like them with a Glock.
I do not like them on fucking Fox!
I will not praise them or toss a bone.
I do not like them tapping my phone!
I do not like them here or anywhere.
And sure as hell not OVER THERE!

I do not like
mean men
and shams!

I do not like them,
Anon-I-am.

You really like them.
So you say.
Stop it, stop it,
Anon, and you may
find some peace as you turn away.

If you will let my blog be,
I will not ban you.
You will see.

You like mean men and shams!
I do not like them, Anon-I-am!
And I would not praise them in a boat.
I would not praise them with my throat!

And I shall shun them in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a plane. And in a tank.
They’re such louses, such louse, you see!

So I will shun them and their flock.
And I will shun them on their Fox!
And I will shun them in my house.
And I’ll help shun them in your house.
And I will shun them here or anywhere.
And sure as hell shun them OVER THERE!

I do so dislike
mean men and shams!
Thank you...
Thank you...
Poetryman I am!


© 2008 mrp/tpm



Rolling along "XYZ"...Yhate? - Yo Peace! - Yurica Report - Zelle's Blog

WAR ON THE ONE-EYED KINGS



In this; the blistering wave,
What is remembered but the last, the
Most recent detonation of everlasting war
Darkening even the most well lit sphere?
That which calls down its subjects
To deliver sermons on the back of the sun
For a people that believe in faith
More than themselves in the hearth of holiness
That goes unchained?
Anything less (or more)…
A fire burns.
Everything is contaminated, dirty. Terror is the cable
Which straps the bomb, fear; its cart.
The derelict move about,
Carrying on, as one-eyed kings and their henchmen,
Whose hands are honed into razors and
Whose hearts strike as drums echoing low the streets,
Chop the wooden throats of the guilty trees.
In this sphere
Hope shrinks of its throbbing bravery.
“This is no way to live!”
Explodes the seers.
“This is pure folly bathing in impure madness!”
But not to any invisible deity or dream merchant,
Like children holding hands praying to escape
The cynical hands of their fathers,
The gods of youth safely hold them.
The seers implore mankind,
Pleading that hope still flows with
Bright and igniting flesh
Retaining the power to bow humanity.
Of this authority we lend our flesh
For there is nothing else to save.
The only course to lift us out,
Up from soiled failure,
Above the turgid shackles
Binding our feet to war.
O! Let this be our mission!
Let it be our heartrending sermon
Running like rivers over our lips
Into the heart of every city,
Into the brightest lamppost-
"War must be shackled
And marched into the fire."



© 2008 mrp/tpm

CLEARLY, OPENLY, MADNESS



A huge blast from a suicide car bomb at the gates of the Indian Embassy on Monday killed 41 people in the deadliest suicide car bombing since the American-led invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 ousted the Taliban.

Among the victims of the attack, the first in seven years on a regional diplomatic mission in Afghanistan, were at least four Indian citizens: the Indian defense attaché, a political counselor and two other Indian officials. Six Afghan police officers were also killed. Many of the rest appeared to be civilians. (More at Crooks and Liars...)


Allow us to view madness clearly, openly.
Breathe in the fumes of desolation’s scent.
Let us bring our eyes out of blanched hiding
And allow witness to this; our butchered age.

Allow us to view madness clearly, openly.
Watch as it moves inland with sturdy legs,
Thrashing about with dithering, misery-born arms
Reaching into us and passing through us.

Allow us to view madness clearly, openly.
To witness with the pale face that death wears,
To glimpse our own bony flesh release the pin,
Pull the trigger and loose raging bereavement.

Allow us to view madness clearly, openly.
Hear its bellow of, “God to frowning God!”
Feel its full breadth of fleshy shrapnel
Landing near our children’s supple feet.

Allow us to view madness clearly, openly.
Look back! O! Look back, goddamn it!
Turn such sorry eyes around and look back
At our own grave’s being dug with each bomb.


© 2008 mrp/tpm



Rolling along "W"...Watching Those We Chose - Watergate Summer - Welcome To Pottersville - Whiskey Bar - White Privilege - WhiteHouser.com - Who Hijacked Our Country - Why Am I Not Surprised - Why Don't You Blog? - Windows Toward the World - Words of Power - Worldwide Sawdust - Written Rebellion


RED, WHITE AND MALIKI



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)

Relative Calm in Iraq Ends as Attacks Take 16 Lives
A wave of attacks in Baghdad and areas north of the capital Sunday shattered a relative lull in violence, killing 16 people and injuring 15 a day after Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki declared that Iraq's government had defeated terrorism.


Trembling red leaves are your only cover.
These, your bodies, thrown like dice
And tumbling apart over the arid soil,
Piercing a recent calm of cunning beasts;
Liars, hunkered down and scheming.

One cannot defeat what it knowingly breeds
When in the blood-soaked bed of her devotion;
Blending colors of such a miserable kingdom.
Fear can only be conquered when truth returns
As bright and gentle as a breathing child.

© 2008 mrp/tpm



Rolling along "V"...Vagabond Scholar - ViceZilla's Views - Virushead - Voodoo Innuendo

JULY 4, 2008



America's independence, her blessed sovereignty bursting at the seams!
This year’s commemoration will feel no different for me than the last;
Inglorious detonations heaving skyward like a sequence of car bombs;
Rockets red glare lighting the sky! O! How I tremble for my country!


© 2008 mrp/tpm

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Rolling along "U"...
un blogger SCEPTIK - UnAmerican Revolution - uncomfortably numb - Urban Unrest - Utah Savage

A Poetic Justice "Arte Y Pico Award" Recipients

The Arte Y Pico Award : an award for "creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language."



A Poetic Justice was chosen by my newfound friend and fellow writer (and how!) Utah Savage...
The rules: 1)Pick five (5) blogs that you consider deserve this award. 2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone. 3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself. 4) Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award which is here: Arte y Pico.

So without further adieu, here are my five choices for the Arte y Pico Award:

1) A Long Tough Blog
Don't let the name scare you... LT, the thoughtful owner of this blog, is kind and giving and very talented. A musician, singer, song writer, and somewhat of an anarchist. He doesn't beat around the bush, although he will, on occasion, beat Bu$h over the head with basic facts. LT, or Little Thom, certainly sums things up in short order. I suppose this has much to do with his gift of writing songs and playing music. Don't meander away from the through-line. Get to the point quickly or your audience just might turn their attention to the little electronic monkey dancing on the divan!

Pay LT a visit and do listen to his music. You will not regret it, unless you're an electronic monkey dancing on the divan.

2) Open Letters to G. W. Bush
Words cannot express my sentiments for Case (Belacqua Jones)... A meth addicted Bush supporter and tour guide. Want an irony-filled dose of reality written in a way that makes anything Bush or his minions say sidle up next to a razor blade, lie down on a mirror and get cut into a fine powder for easier ingestion? Then you must trust me; seriously trust me here, people! There is no other blogger (or writer) that brings more light and laughter and lucidity to our current regime than Belacqua Jones. WARNING: Do not drink, eat, or ingest anything as you read, if you care about your computer in the least that is. If you have a heart condition, please consult a doctor before attempting to read even one Open Letter to G. W. Bush.


3) Left in East Dakota... I have visited Graeme's blog many, many times and I always come away with things I hadn't had in my head before. That's good, right? I mean as long as the things left in your head after visiting are not a screwdriver, a two-by-four, a drill bit, a rock, a bullet, or a blunt object, right?

Well, if the aforementioned objects worry your pretty little head, perhaps Graeme's blog is not for you.
If
you find yourself sucked into the "patriotic" fervor of any given moment,
if
you blindly love your country,
if
you think you've got this country, this world, by the balls and the short hairs,
if
you find revolution implausible,
if
you think Ernesto "Che" Guevara is a fine wine,
if
you think Republican and Democrat are polar opposites,
if you think
...
then I highly recommend you visit Left in East Dakota and see just how wrong you might be.


4) One Tenacious Baby Mama is certainly a blog and blog owner (Dark Daughta) I visit, virtually speaking, on a daily basis.
Why?
So glad you asked!
In my many travels in the ether I have yet to run across a more layered, messy, human, forthright, in-sightful, courageous, anti-authoritarian, WYSIWYG, diasporic african caribbean barbadian-born, north amerikkkanized Black settler, black women/woman of color, able-bodied, old(er) capricornian, dark-skinned, pro-choice, matriarchal, polyamorous, working-class raised middle-class located, fat, tall, rogue scholar, radical theoretician, ancestor/universe/goddess worshiping, radical, sexing [presently celibate], queer, femme, married, partnered, writer/poet/visual artist, far-seer, seeker, workshop facilitator, community worker, counsellor, anti (imperialist) war, toronto breeder, radical parent, pregnancy, homebirthing, non partisan 40 year old, cisgendered person!

And that ain't even the tip of the nipple, folks!

-Think you know someone like Dark Daughta? Really?
-Think you wouldn't like her even if you knew her? Really?
-Even Dark Daughta warns you from the get go on her front page,
"First of all, you will not like me." Really?
-Go ahead, visit her blog and I dare you to NOT like her or at least NOT be intrigued.
-Scared? Intimidated? Speechless? Uneasy?
-Can't take the heat? Shy? Feeling a bit queasy?
-Think you'll pass on visiting her blog?
---Well, fuck you, too!

Isn't that reason enough for you to give her a go?

~~~

I have made my selections, thus far, from contributors to The Peace Tree, and, since only five are allowed, I will now choose a blogger from outside of my own realm, so to speak, and dive into the world of poetry.
What?
Too predictable?

Well predictability ain't this next bloggers game.

5) 1Poet4Man is, in my humble opinion, one of the better hidden talents out there, and I don't just mean hidden in blogland. His writing reminds me of many of the voices that have come before, that are read more today than in their own time, a present day writer whose voice may well live on long after we are gone. Perhaps I give his ability too much credit, but, and again, in my humble opinion, I do not give it enough.

Enough said...
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