Desperado

From “Desperado” by the Eagles:
“Don’t you draw the queen of diamonds boy.
She’ll beat you if she’s able.
You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet.”

Are you trembling?

“If you tremble indignation at every injustice then you are a comrade of mine.” -Ernesto “Che” Guevara

Yup yup

“A man can’t make a place for himself in the sun if he keeps taking refuge under the family tree.” -Helen Keller

To Mega Therion

“Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.” -Sir Francis Bacon

A little old school hxc for ya

“If we just look, inside each of us a thousand rebellions sleep.” -From “Chorus of One” by Richmond, VA’s own Strike Anywhere

Stuff I’ve been thinking about.

“If there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.” -Albert Camus

“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.” -Carl Jung

“If anything, we are enslaved more as human beings now than at any time, probably, in man’s history. But it is so sugarcoated, it’s so slick, it’s so polished.” -Anton Szandor LaVey

They declaim against the passions without bothering to think that it is from their flame philosophy lights its torch.” -The Marquis de Sade

“The joy of life consists in the exercise of one’s energies, continual growth, constant change, the enjoyment of every new experience. To stop means simply to die. The eternal mistake of mankind is to set up an attainable ideal.” -Aleister Crowley

“They say right when they flood the house and they tear it to shreds that… destruction is a form of creation, so the fact that they burn the money is ironic. They just want to see what happens when they tear the world apart. They want to change things.” -Donnie Darko on Graham Greene’s “The Destructors”

I’m Not a Man

“I’m Not A Man” by Harold Norse

I am not a man. I can’t earn a living, buy new things for my family. I have acne and a small peter

I am not a man. I don’t like football, boxing and cars. I like to express my feelings. I even like to put my arm around my friend’s shoulder.

I am not a man. I won’t play the role assigned to me – the role created by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell. Television does not dictate my behavior.

I am not a man. Once when I shot a squirrel I swore that I would never kill again. I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me sick. I like flowers.

I am not a man. I went to prison for resisting the draft. I do not fight when real men beat me up and call me queer. I dislike violence

I am not a man. I have never raped a woman. I don’t hate blacks. I don’t get emotional when the flag is waved. I do not think I should love America or leave it. I think I should laugh at it.

I am not a man. I have never had the clap.

I am not a man. Playboy is not my favorite magazine.

I am not a man. I cry when I’m unhappy.

I am not a man. I do not feel superior to women.

I am not a man. I don’t wear a jockstrap.

I am not a man. I write poetry.

I am not a man. I meditate on Peace and Love.

I am not a man. I don’t want to destroy you.

Rebel of choice I sing to you.

“Train Ride from Hell” by Jack Micheline

I look at the faces

and lift my head

above the roar

only the vision

the smile

the knowledge

few men know

I salute you rebel

born rebel

above factories

above the whips of dead men

above cemeteries

lets sing to the flower

here on earth

wherever it may be

I sing to the flower

in the jailhouse full of blues

in the coffin without courage

I sing to you

you who never forget to smile

no matter how hard

no matter how your fist

clenched in anger

you smiled at me

that was the flame

for I am richer than

all the moneybags in heaven

I sing for you

a flower

rebel of choice

I sing to you

We have to face this now.

“The Darkest Places” by MxPx

Maybe it is dangerous
To invite a stranger into the room with us
The noise is growing louder but i’m not scared at all

When there’s no more money in politics
They’ll be tearing down the union brick by brick
There’ll be cynics holding clinics about where we have been
With every self-proclaimed historian

You know i know you don’t want this
You don’t need this

I’m shining the light on the darkest places
You know and i know we have to face this now
We have to face this now

The days are growing dark what are we gonna do?
The countries in a panic when i turn on the tube
So maybe i’ll just wake up in the afternoon

You can change the channels on your tv
Push all the little buttons ’til your fingers bleed
But you won’t change me
There’s nothing i would do for you cause
You don’t wanna see

You know i know you don’t want this
You can’t dismiss

I’m shining the light on the darkest places
You know and i know we have to face this now
We have to face this now
I’m shining the light on the darkest places
Putting the word out we have to face this now
We have to face this now

A generation taking numbers, making calls
As shadows move across my bedroom wall

I’m shining the light on the darkest places
You know and i know we have to face this now
We have to face this now
I’m shining the light on the darkest places
Putting the word out we have to face this now
We have to face this now

Whitman the anarchist.

“Beat! Beat! Drums!” by Walt Whitman

Beat! beat! drums!–blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows–through doors–burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet–no happiness must he have now with
his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering
his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums–so shrill you bugles blow.

Beat! beat! drums!–blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities–over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers
must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers’ bargains by day–no brokers or speculators–would
they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums–you bugles wilder blow.

Beat! beat! drums!–blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley–stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid–mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the
hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums–so loud you bugles blow.