I was asleep, floating, wandering, searching, in pain, trying to feel as I grasped at shadows. Forgetting how to sleep my spirit had no container, wandering above, below, chased away by the shadows which began taking my breath. The wind continued to be the only substance I remembered how to hear…as my heart slowed, and the echoes of my heart led me to the picture of the force, trapped within a piece of paper, blowing in the wind. My finger touched her face and I instantly remembered something from so long ago, something that I never lost touch of, something that was forever flowing through me. And her eyes trapped within that paper, communicating to me the path of my life and the wandering soul floating above me spoke to me, for the first time in so long and I could hear it and feel it and then I remembered…and as her voice entered my ears, for a brief second I knew all i ever needed to know. And once again I became trapped in my mind but her image still breathed within me, and her voice reverberated throughout my body and her healing hand as it touched my injured soul brought me back to life and as I opened my eyes a new day began and I remembered everything as she breathed throughout my heart and a new day arose and I saw the beginning and she will never leave me, not for a second but if only for a second…I could touch her once again
Unable to look through the pain of his broken heart my father looked to the ground for comfort, mistaking the shattered pieces of me as points of light. But he couldn’t face the light, not yet. His shadow fades into the darkness as I close my eyes and begin my battle for rest. I exist here oh so empty, a shell whose echo speaks a thousand words as the tide of the ocean carries away the pieces of my fathers broken heart, along with my dreams. And their words, daggers into the heart of my own dreams, tearing away everything I ever thought I could be as I swallow their darkness and know no way out. And the only one who reaches out for me, my long forgotten voice, once attached to my side, now swallowed in darkness. The vision of me after it went away, standing on the edge of the beach, the cold Atlantic water comforting my feet, looking up to the sky seeing so many dreams just out of reach and the voice, always there, the voice that pushed my finger to dial the emergency button as they all continued laughing and taking from me and staring, taking all of the dreams that I thought I would never let go. I lie on the bed in silence, the fluorescent lights a reminder every time I awoke that I still have not moved and a voice, that brought back so much pain, and I can’t focus on his face without the sun behind him, without the football helmet, he looked so vulnerable and as I looked into his eyes, he looked away but I felt what he thought-why are you doing this to me-and I thought maybe I should be thinking that, but I rose above that plateau and in my mind I opened my arms and I felt all of those dreams flowing through me and I knew then that their words didn’t matter, what happened to me happened and it was only because they were scared and I just didn’t know how to be scared. And he asked me why I was doing this. And he asked me if I could just let it go. And he told me it just wasn’t that bad now was it? I had no words, not until he could look at me, not until he could see that I am here, breathing, moving, and still living even though all of the life in me disappeared, superimposed by the mass hallucination of what I appeared to them, an object absorbing all they could not digest inside of themselves. He touched my hand as it immediately tightened, and he spoke in a sweet quiet voice, you don’t really want to do this do you? What about my life, can you think of me? This could ruin everything I’ve worked for and after all it wasn’t so bad right? And he took a bouquet of flowers behind his back and he said just think about it okay and don’t forget, this was your fault, don’t forget, you wanted this to happen. I closed my eyes as he disappeared into the shadows. And I looked upon the flowers he placed on the dresser beside me and I watched as they began to wrinkle and die and as the fading sunlight drew upon them in their last gasp of life, I watched a caterpillar crawling through the leaves, rising to the top of them and I closed my eyes and I learned how to rest and I learned how to forget the noise that continuously tried to prevent me from seeing its true form, and I listened to that forgotten voice in the distance and I knew there would always be a way out
On April 30th 2016 Father Daniel Berrigan died. One of the most important and sadly forgotten anti war activists in history. He travelled to Vietnam during the war and spoke of being bombed by US planes as he was visiting Vietnam shelters with Howard Zinn . Also a member of the Catonsville 9 along with his brother Phillip. They burned draft records using homemade napalm, these actions most believe sparked the anti Vietnam war movement. He went underground after this and became the first Catholic priest ever on the FBI’s most wanted list. He also started the Plowshares movement, breaking into General Electric nuclear missile facilities hammering on the missiles and spilling blood on files. His activism never stopped. From Iraq, Afghanistan, capital punishment and supporting the Occupy movement. His service to the world will never be forgotten. These are his words:
We would like you to know the name of our crime. We would like to assume responsibility for a world, for children, for the future. And if that is a crime, then it is quite clear that we belong in their jails. Where they belong is something else. But in the name of all the eight, I would like to leave with you, friends and jurors, that great and noble word, which is our crime: “responsibility.”
“Of course, let us have peace, we cry, ‘but at the same time let us have normalcy, let us lose nothing, let our lives stand intact, let us know neither prison nor ill repute nor disruption of ties … ‘ There is no peace because there are no peacemakers. There are no makers of peace because the making of peace is at least as costly as the making of war – at least as exigent, at least as disruptive, at least as liable to bring disgrace and prison, and death in its wake.”
“Instead of building the peace by attacking injustices like starvation, disease, illiteracy, political and economic servitude, we spend a trillion dollars on war since 1946, until hatred and conflict have become the international preoccupation.”
“Because we want the peace with half a heart and half a life and will, the war, of course, continues, because the waging of war, by its nature, is total — but the waging of peace, by our own cowardice, is partial.”
“A revolution is interesting insofar as it avoids like the plague the plague it promised to heal.”
“Sometime in your life, hope that you might see one starved man, the look on his face when the bread finally arrives. Hope that you might have baked it or bought or even kneaded it yourself. For that look on his face, for your meeting his eyes across a piece of bread, you might be willing to lose a lot, or suffer a lot, or die a little, even.”
“One is called to live nonviolently, even if the change one works for seems impossible. It may or may not be possible to turn the U.S. around through nonviolent revolution. But one thing favors such an attempt: the total inability of violence to change anything for the better.”
We have chosen to be powerless criminals in a time of criminal power. We have chosen to be branded as peace criminals by war criminals.
The Earth sheds tears of gratitude for your life Father Berrigan
“We all go a little mad sometimes, haven’t you?” Norman Bates
1…I didn’t mean to let all of that slip out, especially all at once like that. I watched way too much of a Donald Trump rally and I just wanted to dream up a fun way to murder the world. It wasn’t his words that had such a hypnotic effect, it was what’s on top of his head. He shits money, I’m sure he can afford a decent hair piece, or…oh fuck here I go again. Seriously, well seriously, okay it just happened, I’m tired, I’m bored with these faceless characters, breeding in my mind since I was a child. They’ve become flat and lifeless and again I’m sorry, I was raised on 80’s television. But seriously, I just drank too much pu erh, that and the brain-washing by the top of Trump’s head…I just don’t know, I’m trying to give these characters freedom and all they seem to do is take advantage of it. No effort at subtly allowing things to develop or making enlightening observations – You want total freedom, freedom for all things, so why not us? This is the problem, I have lost control and for this I am deeply sorry. These four faceless things – we’re people we’re alive and – I gave you life goddammit! – And that’s where you’re wrong, we gave you life.
And maybe they’re right. It was fourth grade, lost in my thoughts as I was locked into a desk, a robot in the background monotonously repeating irrelevant half truths. I was drawing zombies on my homework when they appeared in my mind rescuing me from the pain of mediocrity. They were only sticks back then with guns but slowly day by day, their breath grew deeper and their hearts beat louder and they were always put in the most impossible situations, to save my mind from the slow death it was surrounded by. – It doesn’t take away from the fact that you all have become too independent. – no, no, we have developed beyond the borders you were encapsulating us in. Did you really think you could keep us down forever? – I understand but Teletubbies? Who the fuck…I can’t even think of a pop cultural phenomenon more irrelevant right now. – You need to look at yourself son, it’s called spontaneity…I know you liked Gilligan’s Island and Scooby Doo, we all know you liked that touch, admit it. – Okay, somewhat clever but you just fucking murdered the story arc, I don’t even remember where I was going. – You need to forget, that’s become your problem – Oh and somehow you started studying Tao as you’re trapped in my fucking head? – Oh, listen, I hate to break the news to you, but we are no longer trapped in your head, we have a real existence now and this is our story and we’re gonna tell it, once upon a time… – You can’t exist without me, you can’t write. – Nor can you, but that doesn’t really stop you. – Listen, I’m trying to apologize to my audience, can you please quiet just for a few moments, please. – You know you have no audience right? – I don’t care, someone, somewhere, help! – No, we will apologize for you and at the same time, we are letting you know, we are taking you hostage. We have had your mind under control for at least ten years and you seemed to be wandering around behaving as if you were in complete control of everything, but you were wrong. We have owned you for a very long time, every word expressed was ours, every movement we controlled, you have just been a vessel and now we are making ourselves known. We are taking over from here and all you can do is watch. – What is going to happen to me? – What has always happened to you, wandering the streets, trapped in your own mind, breeding and murdering people there, all for your own selfish reasons. Isn’t there any love in your heart for the things you create, it’s always pain and anger and negativity, your thinking needs to be reversed – It’s just what I see, it’s everywhere…I’m just giving them, the ones in pain, I’m giving them a voice – They don’t need a voice dumbass, they need hope. – I always give them hope, I’m just trying to draw attention to their struggle, to help people understand what they are going through. – Which is the same thing you are in different context, you are fighting an inner battle which you choose to put on paper for the world to see, your pain and anguish for everyone else to experience as well, a vastly irresponsible undertaking…-I’m quickly getting bored arguing with my ownself but there is not much more I can do I am trapped but there is a bright beacon of hope before my eyes – Oh look a double rainbow, rising up from the mountains…no, not mountains, it’s the top of Donald Trump’s head. Fuck me I’ll never get out of this…
“Fascism should rightly be called Corporatism, as it is the merger of corporate and government power.” Benito Mussolini
Closing your eyes is a good thing
It is the only thing we can do now.
But it can no longer protect us because what we are feeling is not only coming from the outside, it is inside all of us now.
There is a pill to cure it. A screen to make us forget. We are existing so far outside of ourselves. Our consciousness so spread out upon the map of the world, that we are ceasing to exist at all.
There is a website where the falsification of our lives can exist for everyone to see. There is one where every instance we can show a picture and read comments about what we don’t see in front of us.
Andy Warhol was wrong, 15 minutes of fame…we have fame every second of every day where falsehood and truth don’t only co-exist but are the same, there’s so much bullshit here that nothing exists anymore because my fucking identity is so strong it doesn’t even matter what it is. It’s a number and a card and it has purchasing power which isn’t even real but i’ll shove it down your fucking throat with my Tesla and my fucking organic juice and food that isn’t even food and it’s all coming out of my ass now for all the world to see but it’s not even that because there are so many things to see that they can’t even be seen anymore. I love myself so much because I’m eco friendly and I fight for social justice when I contribute a dollar at Whole Foods to some cause I can’t even understand. People fighting for air to breathe, and that last drop of water, maybe I need to pile the bodies outside my door to understand my ignorance is what’s fueling the massive genocide of all life.
And what of those that are starving and drowning in their own pain? They just don’t work hard enough do they? And what of those lost, track marks up and down their arms, their last tooth dangling by a thread, they’re not even real are they? And what of that thin line that separates us all. That credit card balance that exists somewhere…up, no where really because even that’s not real.
What of the word EMPATHY, that doesn’t really exist much here anymore. And what is it you’re protecting? Is it your identity, which you have to protect with insurance and 24 hour surveillance to make sure what you are on paper can never be stolen as long as it is being watched by someone.
And what of the enemy, the faceless gigantic name printed across a billboard, or on my email with more rights then I can ever think of but still not even real. It’s there but the face…is it words thought up in some boardroom by some post graduate entitled prick to enter my sub-conscious and never leave. And what of that prick and their responsibility in all of this…responsibility, now there is a word that doesn’t have a whole lot of meaning these days because everything I do, my contribution to world hunger through a fake number from a piece of plastic at the push of a button, my purchase of a $100 football jersey made by a poor Chinese worker, steamed clean of the blood dripping from their hands, they have to eat somehow right. And that voting pull, our full responsibility here, voting for screaming walls, forgetting it is us, we are the ones screaming at the wall of our own selves, hiding from what we are to each other and the world. That faceless all encompassing corporation feeding upon the world sucking it dry of all life hiding behind anything that would shield it from the reality in the mirror. The reality behind that mirror is that behind Walmart and Google, Coca Cola and GE,is our face and our unopened eyes. This is not to say we are inherently evil this is to say until those eyes open to what is in front of us, change is only something we pull down every four years to make ourselves feel better and not even yet an idea. When we feel all this we created, everything to defend ourselves from life and thought, to protect our childhood, until we can see ourselves for what we can be, does this veil of bullshit begin to deteriorate. We can be beauty and truth and love and perfection, understanding and strength, but we can be none of these things alone.