Welcome to Poetic Terrorism--a new method of communication. A new vocabulary for resistance. We're opening a new front in the war against soundbytes and corporate catchphrases, because it's impossible to think when your words are controlled by discourse that is manufactured by imperialist corporations and sold to us wholesale in our schools and TVs. Bullshit shoved down our throats by government spokespeople and paid advertising--WE (you) have something to say, SAY IT!
Poetic Terrorism is profoundly nonviolent. It is the resistance of our voices. We are controlled by a submersion tank of manufactured ideas--by the media repeating the talking points of the government.
Poetic terrorism is about bringing the art of resistance into every facet of our lives. Live your life loudly. 'There is no becoming, no revolution, no struggle, no path; already you're the monarch of your own skin--your inviolable freedom waits to be completed only by the love of other monarchs: a politics of dream, urgent as the blueness of sky.'--Hakim Bey
This blog is open to anyone's words and ideas. If you would like to post, email jed.bickman@gmail.com to let me know--I'll give you privileges and then you can post whatever you want.
self realization impossible in a sea of rooms built by men you’ve never met the walls you can't understand, influence. lean if a bar presents itself, drink others drink, seems to be the order of the day obey. obey. obey. obey green bills house solemn white men obey your phallus and spend night after dreary night following it around from darkened streets and sickening parties shallow selves centered obeying animal noises only terrifyingly 'uninhibited' hiding behind impossibly high walls obey finally fucked green tile floor. obey linoleum, bottles of holy beer obey and release yourself into debauchery between the lines, allowed rebellion, freak with no consequences. selves bind to selves excluding watchers, dreamers, stoners. sidelines embrace these moments, and foster an imperialistic cynicism that allows you to finally realize how ridiculous this picture is, created by this time and place and each individual human being in the room could never change any of this. god is our hive mind, we do what's available, we follow the herd especially when it contains those few people we feel comfortable with, and we can never leave their sides even though we have grown to hate them. they could be anybody. but no one would be much better, so why bother. whoever is around is around. obey them.
obey invisible leashes that tie you to familiarity with crustacean people in animal selves who can't suppress their beast but try too hard anyway.
the burden of smalltalk suffocates me. obey green dreaming surviving night after empty night in the blurred cage of droopy eyed drunken life paralyzed by desire and disgust for what they believe has become the human condition.
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" Monday, July 25, 2005