-”This is for all them girls who have ever been made to feel ugly by an even uglier man”. – Violet

 I told a man to go fuck himself today; it was after he looked me deep in my eyes and whispered those sweet sweet words. It was after we made love. It was after he revoked the meaning of every meaningful thing he had ever revealed to me. It was after he draped a cloak around his secret vulnerability and reacted like the coward who fires his gun before the bear begins to charge; it was after he looked me deep in my eyes and whispered those nasty, nasty words. Ya’ll know what I mean, no matter the actual content it was the way he said it; I mean, he said a million things and acted a hundred colorful ways but I absorbed only the base line of his poisonous message and it went something like this: “boom boom, I don’t want you in my life, boom boom, I don’t want you in my life, boom boom…”. I felt it. It hurt. I felt ugly. I felt small. I felt like runnin’ and divin’ into the coldest water to freeze the growth of sensitivity and pain, but I didn’t. I just swallowed and smiled and said, “its alright boy. You are the last brother from the tribe of indifferent men that I will ever dance with. I can say a proper goodbye now. Thank you for the challenge mister, now go fuck yourself”.

 This is gon’ be my new way, I think, makin’ it my bus’ness to know where those men come from, and tellin’ ‘em how I truly feel. Ain’t like I’m doing nothin’ wrong, I mean I ain’t hurtin’ nobody really. It ain’t my problem if he takes it personally, right? I’m just livin’ my life is all, and he should know better anyhow. Its like, what do you think is gon’ happen when you wear your selfish expectations as openly as your troubled grin? I ain’t here to please nobody! I ain’t layin’ down the right to bear myself, no way am I gon’ spread my legs kindly so he can have a taste of true power. I ain’t givin’ nothin’ to nobody that ain’t already pourin’ freely from the flow of things; why force myself further? Ain’t enough you’ve got that girl between your legs you wanna sew her up after you done, you wanna brand your name like a pretty little scar that she’ll forever wear as a reminder that she’s a missin’ a piece of her heart to you.

 I’ve been had and I’ve been a means to an end for many a mischievous man but I say enough! They made me, ya know, as a girl comin’ up in this world, tricked by every fake kiss and every false prophecy spoken from the filthy grave of his soiled dreams; I believed that love was when your name felt safe in the mouth of a well-respected man. Uh, uh, no way; and now I’ve paid my dues and I have been God-honored with the authority to love nobody but myself, and if the mosquitoes want a taste of my blood then let them have it; they’ll prick the skin of another man soon, and that will be my victory when the shaft of his cock is swollen with regret of having behaved a devil’s fool; guilt itches, my friend. Itch it long and good, watch how it changes you, I’ll wear a rosy dress to celebrate the rise and fall of your oozing fantasies, ha! I’ll bite harder than any alligator I swear, I’m tired of resting in the swamps next to other second-hand ladies; through rouge and globs of lip paint they slur from too many sips of moonshine while the moonlight shines on their tears that the water beast dries with his yellow eyes.

 I ain’t one them girls who jus’ wanna man, ya hear? I ain’t wanna sit ’round, and sip tea and talk about fancy things with lace, and whisper lyrics and batter my eyes and smell nice things and have nice things: I ain’t lookin’ for nothing from you: not acceptance nor approval, not a warm blanket or a humble bed, not a compliment or a dare, not nothin’ you can do to change me slightly, not no way for you to keep me comin’ round cause I dance to the beat of distant drums, harmonic gifts of direction granted by higher things, higher than the way you feel when you see me smile that smile that ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, not no more; I’m stronger than I seem, grace is not weak but tender like a mother lion with her cubs. Don’t you know boy? When spirits are suppressed, when they are confined, ya see, they revolt to any extreme; the spirit knows only how to be itself and it will do so under any condition, under any circumstance, whether you speak its language or not it will rise within and swell like the tides of the sea when the full moon calls. It’s like, you can take a person and you can train them and mold them and teach them how you want them to be, you can tell them that some things jus’ ain’t right and others are plain wrong, but it ain’t no use; you only gonna make a murderer, or a liar, or a rapist, or a drunk; stiflin’ energies morph and manifest in unwholesome ways when left to rot on the shelves of a restricted heart.

 So, boy, I release myself from the bonds that have held me down; turns out they were of my own makin’; but ya’ll can’t convince me to stitch them again. No way, I have a voice as strong as a million angry bees and though my soul is lyin’ on the side of a road a ruby stone in my chest has been graciously restored. So again, i”ll say it with mighty conviction, those sweet sweet words I’ll whisper in your ear; “go fuck yourself”.

4th Step

I know why you wear your glasses to bed: you’re afraid you wont see what’s coming when you’re asleep, that if you open your eyes and have a moment to react you may react wrongly because you cant see…I know this…I watch you sleeping, I see those eyes moving in the space on your face while you wait at the edge of dreams for a reason to engage your reflexes and then boom! Too late; the nightmare is real and blood is already pouring; if only you had been wearing your glasses…

And what diet have you consumed that has left you so bloated with fear? Who has your heart in a bind and who before has pricked it a million times with nasty needles of demented perfection? You seek approval in all forms, wanting to be wanted by all people in all ways. And when you fail to find that source of acceptance you suffer a gentle stab, you  feel it sink in and slide around, you feel it grow around your heart and change you, you feel it arrest your thoughts and turn them so that they are unfamiliar and throbbing like your pulse that sets the tone for your prize of resentment.

You will cry now, wont you? Remembering the pleasant taste of freedom, a memory vague and teasing, like the flavor of strawberry licked from the fingers of your vacant sweetheart. Why do you source the misery from which you run? Is there a place to phrase the pickled prayers of a self-anointed princess? You are nothing, you think. You have nothing and you come from people who have less still. So go, then, leave this world like you’ve wanted before; the skin of your wrists is already written with scar tissue gossip of a lonely end.

And to whom are you now attached, I wonder? From whom do you leech the vibrant energy of approval? Does he say ‘I love you?’ And what do you reply? You might sit still and soften those eyes behind the forged glass that shields your sinister intentions; so afraid to be alone you keep him with your smile all the while you silently repeat the mantra of mortal insecurity in your mind: ‘please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me….’ You’re so afraid to be alone! The form of the man is no matter so long as he craves you, cradling your virginity or catering to your finite innocence with the force of his fist; to you it is no matter. The kind one thinks of himself the answer to your history of abuse, the ill-tempered one sees you as weak and sees him a savior who violently demands recognition of his heroic cock.

Is it security you seek? Daily sessions of unconditional affirmation? Like congealed animal fat the weight of your uncertainties hangs in pockets of condensed self-pity, you roam the earth a victim of the hurt you have been prescribed by the crooked sources of power in your sick society: you believe them though all they have done is reduced you to another consumer casualty waiting to wear an American flag around the grave;  in death you’ll be as valued as the cost of your tomb. Until then, I hate the way your lips coil around the words of your favorite pop-star icon.

I know you fight it, you’re wrapped in your own skin shaking like a dying dog, a look of anger drips wet with worry and is smeared across the canvas of your nighttime portrayal. It is pain to descend into darkness, to release the demons you have all day concealed with a half-ass smile and neon bright words that defend your make-believe bliss. For you life is a thin dress of sugar which coats a swollen seed of malcontent.

What would you need to release the beast? How long until you give birth to your morbid offspring; a word or a glance or a thought or a sentence that spews like vomit from your soured insides? You deliver unto the world that with which it has you impregnated; coils of hurt, anger, hatred, and grief. Your life is a permanent gestation of a broken fetus with a broken heart; your child wears the crown of thorns long before it’s born, she is doomed to carry the burden of a thousand stubborn mistakes; thank you, mother murderer.

So what now? You’ll sleep eventually, wearing the pink frames or cuddling them close to the scabs on the knuckles of your graying hands, awaking to feed your aging addictions, one by one they surface and you place them in line, one after another, each one fulfilled only brings you closer to the next; you cherish your alcoholic itinerary and so long as you’re awake you function like a machine driven by a programmed response that has you constantly inputting random data and outputting arbitrary waste, the sad cycle of someone convinced they are deprived and only partially a person.

So you learn of things which only jumble spiritual reception and from it you produce no good action except the action to deny that divinity exists outside of dreams. You are alone, you prefer to be alone, so no one can ever get close enough to learn why it is that you wear your glasses to bed… but I know, I watch you as you sleep…

“Who does?” I responded candidly. I can foretell that these images will recline into the cavernous bounty of rejected truths, but while they remain at the forefront of my intellect about these photos I will do what it is that I do: write.

Death by Plastic Waste

I was oddly piqued when these images first decorated my screen: I have before seen the bodies of birds bearing internal plastics on the beaches of the bay in Berkeley, a phenomenon which prompted me to write my very first article, plastic ”. It bothered me to have been blindly bombarded with the demise of humanity in such a morbid manner as having to clean the decaying carcasses from the rocks in the sand. At first there were tears which were then dried by the stench of death: then came a moment of pondering followed by startling realization: we are impacting the earth in very obvious, very disturbing, and undeniable ways.

The difference between the Berkeley birds and the ones on the Midway Atoll in the North Pacific is the fact that the former aviary graveyard is being discovered on uninhabited lands. Humans have not settled here, nor have there ever been any attempts of harnessing the land for modern industrial/agricultural exploitation. This land is deemed ’sanctuary’, a sanctuary that has sadly become the final resting place for the offspring of thousands of Albatross flyers.

The mother birds leave the island grounds in search for meals for their offspring: the search for food is not fruitful save the finding of floating plastics which appear edible to the creatures. What is a baby bird belly to do with a bucket-load of plastic trash? The bottle cap of a soda pop is hardly digestible: with a treasure chest of industry’s finest plastic moldings nestled within their deteriorating physique, the birds succumb to death, a popular though misrepresented theme in today’s society.

I’m Sorry, Mother Nature

It’s quite beautiful actually: as time progresses and our stoic attitude persist the universe never fails to provide an increasing amount of evidence in support of change. Washed up marine life, storms increasing in violence and intensity, climactic variance, dying forests and fields, toxic rain waters, stale reefs, species extinction, and of course, diseased, sickened, obese, malnourished, under-stimulated, over-stimulated, vengeful, enraged, angry and mentally ill human beings who personally have taken it upon themselves to judge the value of life, slaughtering, abusing, neglecting and raping all the life forms of the world.

In waking dreams I imagine Mother Nature standing in a forest of battery acid half stepped in a puddle of diesel fuel with a look of confusion adorning her worried face and her arms in the air as she protests to humanity: “What more do you need? What more proof could I possibly give?”

Certainly NOT Featured On Tonight’s News

The man-made plastic island that exists in the ocean is rarely publicized, nor is the death by trash of nature’s most innocent offspring, as our primary media providers fails to communicate certain facts of the world. Instead what is advertised is static uncertainty, where underground information and discovery are ignored, complicated, over-shadowed, jumbled within the structure of middle-class normalcy. If a truth (like death by plastic, the deplorable condition of American animal farms and kill houses, the fate of an injured racehorse) does find a spotlight moment the f actuality of it is quickly denounced by the kings of control: that diabetes is incurable, that there is no such thing as global warming, that high fructose corn syrup is safe because it comes from corn are but a few examples of the false motivations of propaganda intended to propel mankind further into a state of ignorance and isolation from truth.

We are coerced into sustaining the misery and harm of our modern world despite that our habits and ways contribute to emerging trends of loss and degradation, and are generally repulsive to the courageous investigator and vomit-inducing to his staff of photographers.

Modern society is interested in sponsoring a life of extravagant waste, where every facet of existence is intended to produce wealth and riches at the expense of the environment and all her systems and cycles. Our culture is a culture of death, where every consumer choice has a value of suffering, be it that the ecosystem is damaged, an animal’s life was taken, or our own health and well being is compromised.

Our motives are inspired by the age-old western traditions of greed, lust, and desire, qualities which have successfully brought mankind into the new-era, but are still bottled and sold even though they now serve the opposite purpose: to destroy and harm our own species as well as the species of the earth and earth herself.

Do we like living in such a manner? No! We are a culture of sick people, living with chronic pains and disappointments, miseries and the unpredictability of a selfish world.

Then Why Continue The Culture of Death?

Characteristically we are all obsessed with pleasure causing elements and experiences, and vehemently opposed to painful/discomforting awareness. When we find something pleasurable we seek to hold it forever, to make it ours, to have as much of it as possible, to never let it go. Oppositely, when we are in pain we seek to fix it, to push it away, to block it out, usually by way of pharmaceutical drugs, intoxication, lies, and escape. We may have been taught the value of experience, the importance of acceptance, and the art of time, but we hardly put them into practice during the clutter and chaos of a day in the life of the average us.  

These ill behaviors further detach us from our true nature: though we have plenty opportunities for happiness presented by our unquenchable thirst for ‘things that make us feel good’, we often live our lives reaching, grabbing, pursuing the idea of such things that may or may not make us happy or satisfied. In doing so, we miss the experience entirely on account of being consumed by mindful proliferation; our thoughts are focused upon ourselves and our need for things that would make us happier: we are a ‘if I only had this, I would be this’ society of people, suffering because we feel less whole, less complete, less satiated on account of our spiraling greed and lust. ‘If I had those Nikes’, or ‘if I were married’, or ‘if I could afford this trip or had that job, or that degree, or this slice of pie’: we attach power to powerless things, allowing them to engross our attention until we absolutely have it, and then we move on to the next thing.

It’s Not You; it’s the Mold

The person who fits this mold is nearly everyone in the western world; these are the aims of a consumerist society, to raise a person from childhood to constantly feel in need of newer, nicer, bigger and better things.

That we run from pain, avoid it and suppress it another skill we’ve learned within our network of American neighbors. We have an acquired aversion to anything unpleasant or distasteful, anything that may cause fear or hesitation. This is a dangerous practice; not only have we become reliant upon producers of ‘fix-it’ drugs to ease our physical and mental pains (pains are our body’s way of expressing imbalance), but we also choose everyday to ignore the ugly truths which have emerged aggressively in our society today, thanks to the efforts of non-profit organizations and independent journalists and NPR broadcasts. We have access to solutions, but we’d rather not because it hurts us to believe in the factuality of our own dirty footprint upon the earth. “Ignorance truly is bliss”, says the man as he takes a bite from a grocery store steak.

We forget that everything in this world is impermanent, including our very lives, and that the only thing constant is change. We forget to stop and see our part in the relationships we form with the world. We forget to experience the experience, to allow our subsequent emotions to rise and retreat, to no longer sustain denial regarding our ways: instead we insist on living on the edge, fast-paced and self tortured by the acidity of our western process of thought.   

Follow the Leader

We are living in a matrix of artificiality and when something or someone stands firm and voices honest opinion free from hidden agenda and corporate promotion we are trained to follow our leaders, in our case those who own media portals, those who invest our monies, those who educate our children, those who give us good deals and bargain options, those who give us tax breaks and minimum wage increases, and I mustn’t forget to add due credit to all the Hollywood superstars with influential power.

Is it such an anarchist point of view to proclaim that our leaders are wrong? Is it such an anarchist perspective to prefer the information of underground mediums and the education of peace-seeking advocates in comparison to television broadcasts and public literature?

Welcome to Disney-Earth

The answer to all our problems is always the simplest alternative, yet perhaps because of its simplicity, or because of its lack of institutional accreditation we decline to participate in the cure.

And what do I know: maybe the path to enlightenment is marked by the death of Mother Earth and the birth of a plastic Disney-Earth where we pet mechanical farm animals and eat vegetables grown in laborities. We take walks in industrial parkways and skip metal fragments on petroleum ponds. We rejoice at the sight of the sun which is usually clouded in fogs from emissions, and we smile when memories of waterfalls and rainbows surface in our minds. Survival of the fittest has been redefined in this world to include only those beings which can withstand toxic exposure long enough to reproduce another generation: I think humans have the ability to adapt, although years of disease and pharmaceutical abuse would have us deformed and unnatural, like robots without heads we would continue to employ the factories of our kings all for a taste of ethanol-elixir#10856.

Test subjects we are now for the futuristic endeavors of our kings. New vaccines, new drugs, new foods, and new technology: these are all instruments of scientific experimentation: the weak die and the resilient bear the immunity, the antidote, the gene to be biologically carried into the new millennium, the new frontier. The rich will carry their wealth while the world crumbles around them, and they will carry the producers of that wealth along with them, the working class drones of present day society. All Hail Disney-Earth!

It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s a Revolution!

We need a resistance! If planet earth does not disown us first then we must deny them that power: we have a constitutional right to bear arms against our government, but lets not get hasty: resistance happens with the dollar, and the dollar that scars the world is the dollar spent to own something, anything bearing a corporate logo, chemically or artificially enhanced, made in another country or simply at the cost of suffering or life.

Of course at this state in our development people would first require a spiritual intervention, followed by an extended period of detox from all things unnatural and a subsequent lifelong program of recovery and rehabilitation. 

For some this is already in effect, for others it will soon come, but for most, Mother Nature has not yet provided a rock bottom: I dread the day that this event comes to pass, as I both fear and anticipate with childlike excitement that it will be the end of an era, the beginning of new times, though in which direction earth and all her creatures are destined to float in the vastness of space is entirely up to forces beyond the control of even the most brilliantly powerful king and all his psychic minions.

For now, go vegan. Buy fresh, buy local, buy organic. Don’t drink, don’t smoke…am I striking a nerve? Don’t wear clothing with fur trim, or of brand name. Don’t drive. Compost. Recycle your clothes. Donate your fast-food money. Don’t eat fast-food. Don’t bank with large corporations. Don’t invest in large financial institutions. Don’t take drugs. Don’t take pharmaceutical drugs. Exercise your body. Exercise your mind. Turn off your television. Tune out mainstream music. Take off your headphones and listen.. Engage one another. Say hello. Take free classes. Take advantage of community affairs. If you hate your job, quit. If you love your job, ask yourself why. Ask yourself why. Ask your superiors why. Question all labels. Question all advertisements. Question those who say there isn’t a need to question. Search for truth. Don’t become complacent. Don’t become lazy. Don’t accept average. Nothing should ever be good enough. Volunteer. Be the love you wish to receive. Spend time outdoors. Avoid using artificial light. Avoid Starbucks. Sleep. Rest. Activate. Explode Creativity!!!

Through education we can unplug from the society of death and plug into life and vibrancy, serenity and peace. It may not be the whole world standing hand in hand, but every person, every consumer has the power to make a difference, and it starts by first recognizing the value of your own life, and the value of the life of those innocent baby birds. 

And for some these truths are too uncomfortable; they simmer in the back-lot of the mind and before they are able to guide sprouting thoughts to a probable solution something else wins the attention of the eye and all potential for consideration is snuffed.

But for most these truths come as an overwhelming antonym to the sugarcoated illusions we are so mercilessly fed. We know so little of the origins of the contents of our lives, assuming that because we pay fair price, there is little need for concern. Why should we challenge those who produce the source of our livelihoods? We are taught that harm comes to those who are ill-deserving: when we live decently and minimally, we assume that the fruits of our efforts are and can be trusted. We don’t question the reality within which we live because in it we are comfortable, complacent, settled, surviving to the best of our knowledge and wanting nothing beyond what is within the immediacy of our grasp.

But we are being harmed in the most disturbing of ways, back-stabbed by our fellows and misguided by those whom we have elected to lead. We eat what is sold, we drink what is poured, we buy what is discounted and rarely do we hesitate, do we meditate on the possibility that things aren’t as ritually pure as they seem. 

What is the benefit of such a world? I doubt it is the literal manifestation of an entrepreneur’s ideals, but with the origins of our nation there are the perpetuated frequencies of cruelty and unnecessary slaughter: history provides the view that from the initial patriotic practices of a developing nation our fathers perfected the art of heartlessness and cruelty: we are merely surviving the tradition as manifest destiny is still very much alive between the synthetic threads of our liberal quilt. It is a popular sport to believe in the personal pursuit of riches, power, and fame: an even more popular sport is to believe in the pursuit of these ends at any cost, no matter the lives wasted, the earth spoiled, the people sickened, the masses poisoned, the youths stunted, the animals rotted, the oceans scoured, the hearts hardened. We have been searching and striving and growing and expanding for so many years and now we stand as a crowd of defective and debilitated people with the bloody flesh of our earth companions rotting between the soured crevices of our cavernous teeth: what now? 

If it were possible that every human being alive within the borders of our country could witness the gross processes which fund our modern existence I think, I hope that every individual would weep at the disturbing loss of humanity, and would praise the liberating revelation as the source of all illness, disease, plague and misery becomes vividly apparent.

There are choices you can make and I hope you do. There are some who would rather soak in the shallow waters of commercialism, who could and would wield a wand and commit all of earth’s children to burn in the fiery eruption of the devil’s orgasm. I hope that we all do not become what every mainstream horror flick portends: infected and enraged beasts that pillage and plunder in search of just one more taste of blood. Then again, isn’t that what we have always been? Happy Columbus Day, Columbus without whom we wouldn’t have corn, the root of all that sustains us.