406 lines
9.9 KiB
Plaintext
406 lines
9.9 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ####### ## ## #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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[ An Apologetic For The Pretty Pictures ] [ By Huewle ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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AN APOLOGETIC FOR THE PRETTY PICTURES
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I thank God I live in America...
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wait...
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no I don't...I live in America,
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so I don't have to thank god.
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I don't have to believe.
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I thank luck I live in America.
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wait...
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means the same thing.
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hmmm...
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oh...yes...I live in America.
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I'm reasonably happy about it.
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I am healthy, wealthy (by my standards)
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and have the potential to be wise.
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I know I live in America;
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I live in what is today the most powerful country in
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the world
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...we do a lot of bad things.
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Countries, much in their ways like people, are often
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self-serving. Selfish, if you wish. Not just the
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individual is self-serving; it's the group as well, a
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group that is constantly defined a step higher -
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you may disagree with the heirarchy, but you get the
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point, I'm sure.
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the 'soul'
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the body
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the love (and/or ideology)
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the family
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the close friends
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the personality group
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the ethnicality
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the nation group
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the religion
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and finally the species - usually through the idea of
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peace, as striven for by one of the larger groups.
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...we do a lot of bad things. Selfish, I know.
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The problem is, as the power grows, the abuses have no
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choice but to grow.
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To enforce Society's will, we have conformity - one of
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the worst abuses handed from above. The societal
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tendency to push individuals into servitude. of
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course, it can't go all the way. Conformity, en
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masse, will choke the group in lack of innovation. So
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of course, much as we instinctively conform, many
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instinctively anti-conform. Break laws. Vote in the
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minority - even though they will lose, by 5% or 45% or
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anywhere between. Do art, activism, education, or
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anything else. And because I live in a country of
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people, the country behaves as a person.
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Go back; read everything.
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"I thank God I live in America"
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"I live in America"
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I live. I happen to be in America. I understand that
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America seeks to dominate others to be healthy.
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I disagree with the methods.
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I disagree with the ends, what we do to individuals
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within and without, and to other countries.
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But I am happy.
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There is no reason not to be, and plenty in favor.
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And I will not feel guilt for the behavior of the
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country. I will try and stop what I view as wrong.
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But I will not decline association with it.
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I do not accept the burden of your guilt.
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------------
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to Jack Bowman, who insists on the original sin of
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being born in the United States
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++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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"the little I know, the all that I know, I don't know...
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no, no, no."
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-Huewle
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Ride the love groove
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they said
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in the 60's
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ride it they said and
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take the hit and
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hop and now today tomorrow
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yesterday 4-20 at Columbine
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and the travesties
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that accompany
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pop! pop! pop!
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Scream the guns of the
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Children of the failed
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revolutionaries
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Clickety-clack clickety-clack
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sing the computer keys
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of the secretaries
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of the men
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of the money
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And their voices drip with honey
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As they feed the children
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of America the
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same old shit
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flavored spiced spinning
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from the fan
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of the dreadnought swimming
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in the American Sewer
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under the American
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Dirty Boulevard
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paved by the American
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honey caked and cracked
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and peeling and when you
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pull on it it's
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Laffy Taffy
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for the tounges of the young
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chew chew and gobble gobble
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slurp the voices of
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the children of
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the Nintendo revolution
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"Daddy bought his SUV
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Mommy's got all the Beatles CD's
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And the revolution
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is only a video game
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or a special exploited by MTV"
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and so pop! pop! pop!
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Sing the guns on the
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video screens
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of the school computers
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paid for by Pepsi
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and
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Clickety-clack Clickety-clack
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Steams Thoreau's train barreling
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Down the info highway
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straightlined across a
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5 paragraph essay
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strained through the faulty
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paper-pulp-mill of public education
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Drowning in the syrupy-sweet
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taste of the
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GODDAMN MTV ENDORSED
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PEPSI ONE
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Spiked with the happy pills
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that go pop! pop! pop!
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in the mouths
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of the children
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Fed to them by their parents
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the failed revolutionaries
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to keep them happy
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and safe and happy
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and warm and happy
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and close and happy
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and harmless and HAPPY
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and blank and HAPPY
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and sedated and HAPPY
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and consuming and happy
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till we END
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...
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my lover's parents are
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addicted to happy and she
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she is too strong
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or too scared to cry
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so I shriek my mind
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to the dark of the forest
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shriek my mind for her
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and for the revolution
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and it's literature
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because nobody thought
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nobody thought
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that the Brave New World
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would be voluntary
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VOLUNTARY
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Can you fuckin' believe it!
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We drug the children
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to the clickety-clack clickety-clack
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of the pharmaceutical companies
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of the parents - drugged slaves
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of the pharmaceutical companies
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of the parents
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of the children
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of the ex-revolution
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who are glued together
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by drugs and honey
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from the tounges
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that stink of money
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and the parents go
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Pop! pop! pop!
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in their own booming
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anti-child crime-wave
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more kids are killed by
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bitter ex-bohemie boomers
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than the
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computer-babies' bombs
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that they found with
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the sound of
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clickety-clack clickety-clack
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rattling the spaced-bars
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of their keyboards as they
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can no longer sing through the
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Pepsi in their throat
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while the warplanes of the U.S.
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Boom by outside my window
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To make sure the Chinese will
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buy Coke and keyboards
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and maybe they'll get it
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right because
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pop! pop! pop!
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they invented the first
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fireworks and maybe
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the frenetic
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clickety-clack clickety-clack
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of the keyboards they have -
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the only key they have to freedom -
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and maybe they
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will see that we can't speak
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or scream and don't know
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how to type anything but
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"pass me a Pepsi"
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and the revolution will
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start
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somewhere else
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someway else
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somehow else
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with someone else
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milked and soured
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with real oppression
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for a real revolution.
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---------------
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a side note on this poem; I go to college at Wright
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State University, adjacent to Wright Patterson Air
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Force Base; the largest in the U.S. this poem was
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written after the spyplane went down in China, when
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for a several day period there was a slight but
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noticable increase in air traffic.
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+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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7 DAYS...THE MACHINE GOD VS THE MAN WITH A GUN
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1. A man ran into this workplace, gunned down every
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suit in sight, and shouted
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"You're free!"
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We didn't know what to do.
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2. The man with the gun ran in, shot all the suits,
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and shouted at us
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"Kneel before your Gods, you slaves! Now you shall be freed!"
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"Thank you," I whispered as he pointed his gun at me, tears of joy
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screaming down my face.
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3. The man with the gun ran in, shot all the suits,
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and shouted
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"Bow down before your Machine-God, fools!"
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I said to him
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"no, because we are singing so beautifully together."
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He smiled, agreed, and then either shot me or let me live.
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4. The men with the gun ran in, shot all the suits,
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and then turned and shouted
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"--------------------------------------------------!!"
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Nothing answered except the whirr and chunk of
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machine. Despair struck his face, and he fell down
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dead. Without all the suits, the machines rusted and
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decomposed.
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5. "Police are looking for suspects involved in fires
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that led to the destruction of a manufacturing plant
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in Cleveland. Fortunately, no one was harmed.
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Onlookers have described the fire as 'so hot, you
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could hear the metal screaming!' Property damage is
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assessed at...
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6. "An unidentifiable man's body was found grossly mutilated
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and hanging from a hook inside a 40' long chemical
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washer at a manufacturing plant in Cleveland. The
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body was at the plant adjacent to the one gutted by an
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arsonist's fire last Wednesday. Police have not yet
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ruled out suicide, but further investigation is on
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hold until the body is identified. Company officials
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report that work will resume on Monday"
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7.
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Click...
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Whirr...
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Ugh...
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Grunt...
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Click...
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Whirr...
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Ugh...
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Grunt...
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Click...
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Whirr...
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Ugh...
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Grunt...
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Click...
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Whirr...
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Ugh...
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Grunt...
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Click...
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Whirr...
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Ugh...
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Grunt...
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++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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"The Shadows of Spaces"
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writing....
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words....
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air passing through fleshy reeds at the throat of a
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gurgling stream....
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electronically transmitted symbols arranged with
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scientific precision....
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Thoughts
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sometimes they don't really get through.
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sometimes the spaces drown out the words.
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sometimes one medium
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will work
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while another strangles,
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shifts.
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sometimes the words say things they don't mean.
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sometimes they mean things they don't say.
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when you try to decipher the coding, when you try to
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put cracks and spyholes in the walls of the way we
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speak
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when you study the weaknesses and strengths
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evaluate
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quantify
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sift and search
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pan for
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something lost in the spaces
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strikes out at your mind
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maybe it's in there,
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maybe it's out here
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Tendrils of something dark
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that lash outwards, grasping
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you battle with this dark,
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in your soul, with your mind as a knife, your instinct
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a cloak
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You wander the empty spaces
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and shudder at the shade they cast on the words.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #609 Underground eXperts United 2002 uXu #609
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Call KASTLEROCK -> +1-724-527-3749
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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