ANTI-MANIFESTO
Dance and laugh and play. Ignore the message we convey. It seems
we're only here to entertain. A rebellion cut-to-fit. Well I
refuse to be the soundtrack to it. While we entertain we're still
knee-deep in shit. There's something wrong inside. We've played
it safe, enjoyed the ride. You won't like this but I have
something to confide. We strive for something more than a faded
sticker on a skateboard. Now we've rained on your parade and
we're out the door. And I don't even care any fucking more.
Witness this pair in accomplice. Witness a pair; lethargic,
unconscious. No brows furrowed in question, complacent,
completing their tasks (no questions asked). Consider this critic
a cretin. Just resting on laurels (completely invented). Word
acrobatics performed with both harness and net. I am so full of
shit. But I will remain until this self-awareness fades. Until I
defeat the the purpose served by this soapbox that you made. That
you made.
HEAD, CHEST OR FOOT?
Three choices. One bullet. One trigger. Guess who gets to pull
it? One leader. One thousand slaves. For every throne there's one
thousand graves (give or take a grave). You're all the same. Just
part of their machine. Perpetuate their dream. They subsidize
their nightclubs and they subsidize your malls. They herd and
brand the masses within painted prison walls. Until your freedom
of assembly becomes the missiles they create or just mass
delusion dancing to this music that you fucking hate. But I'm not
the same. I'm not a pat of your fucking machine. I'll jeopardize
their dream. I'd rather be imprisoned in a George-Orwellian
world, than this pacified society of happy boyz + gurlz. I'd
rather know my enemies and let you know the same. Whose windows
to smash + whose tires to slash + where to point the fucking
blame. One future. Two choices: oppose them or let them destroy
us.
HATE, MYTH, MUSCLE,
ETIQUETTE
Mark your point of failing. It begins where you concede.
Hesitate. Procrastinate. Sedating. All configured to impede your
path. You need a good kick in the ass. Now take a step back and
have a long, hard look. Hold it to the light and read it like a
book. Analyze the past and present to see what is to come. Now
wrap your lips around the barrel of the gun. Mark my point of
failing. It began where I gave in. Comfort. Convenience.
Placating. Construed to suck me in to their trap. I need a good
kick in the ass. As time passed by I realized we don't need
rule(s) to survive. Just common sense and means to subsist. So
from here on in I will resist. I've finally realized. I've found
my way at last. It's finally evident. We all need a kick in the
ass... The basis of change: educate! Derived from discussion, NOT
hate, NOT myth, NOT muscle, NOT etiquette. Intellect, not
"re-elect!". Status symbols yield to respect between
sex, species, environment.
SHOWDOWN (G.E./P.)
We spoke our minds too clearly. We assumed fundamental rights
were inherent not as pawns but humynz. I do not require a gauge
for freedoms of speech cuz I never asked to be a citizen. I never
have and never will pledge allegiance... Waking up each morning
with confusion in my eyes. The wind is biting through to wave
hello. Seeing my reflection, an exterior of lies. I hope this
shaky feeling doesn't show. As if I had to tell you, there was
little left to say. Stilted conversations coloured blue. You were
sitting down and you got up to walk away. I tried to stay, but I
was right behind you. Tension in the stair, I cannot bear so
close to helpless as the songs I sing inside me ring. Final words
are boring never touch I know you whispered something in my ear.
I couldn't hear you. Gyrls with the greenest eyes. First time you
have kissed. Our quiet softest sighs. A song for all of those who
shot and missed. Welcome to this world impuded identity. Born,
tagged, tattoed, pacified. Generously bestowed my rights and
privileges replete. Arbitrary values ascribed. There's nothing I
can tell you. There's nothing I can say. Stunted conversation,
censored thought. I'm completely free at liberty guaranteed.
Unless, of course, you decide I'm not. But I'll not be resigned
to fall in line behind you. Tension in the air I cannot ear so
what the fuck am I accomplishing? Absolutely nothing. All these
words are boring. It's time for action. But you've taught me to
be a pawn. It won't last for long. Those who see through the lies
are quickly gagged and bound. Their ambitions realized. Tear the
whole fucking thing down.
SKA SUCKS
Ska sucks. Ska revival isn't cool, you stupid fuck. The bands are
only in it for the bucks. And if you don't believe me you're a
schmuck. But the trend will die out with any luck. Rudy, a
message to you Rudy... Fuck you Rudy!
MIDDLE FINGER RESPONSE
Bowl of cherries in Waskasoo creek. A sylvan way of life for
those who seek none beyond a parkland mall. This landscape oasis
now feigns City Hall. And they call this peace. That's not how it
seems to me. Sugar coated disease. Buckle at the knees. Your
members of parliament lining their garments with hides of the
masses (their heads stuck up their asses). Bald little
soldiers, flags sewn to their shoulders. This insight spawns
despair. Why am I not a part of this? Pine cone wealth and cedar
fence bliss? All your novel themes that keep you amused on your
way to the Canadian, flag-waving-aran,
a) cunt/cock/ass/mother/father/finger/butt/blood/booger
b)sucking/fucking/shitting/farting/picking/flicking/dicking...
...dream!!! Nobody cares about the state of affairs. You can turn
blue in the face, but you cannot erase. Oblivious to the obvious,
I'm making perfect sense but I'm not getting through. Progress
overdue. But don't expect to find me with a note left to be read.
Pistol in my hand and a bullet in my head. Because this census
indicates and this atlas has related 3 billion humynz I haven't
irritated. I've got a lot of work to do. 3 billion people. That's
3 billion snotty fuck you's.
STICK THE FUCKING FLAG UP
YOUR GODDAMN ASS, YOU SONOFABITCH (Not to be gender-specific, of
course!)
My father told me "Son it's futile to resist. You can topple
the ideology but not the armies they enlist." I questioned
the intentions of the boy scouts chanting "WAR!"
"Well, that's the sound of freedom, son", he said (free
to say no more). But wait a minute "dad", did you
actually say freedom? Well, if you're dumb enough to vote, you're
fucking dumb enough to believe them. Because if this country is
so goddamned free, then I can burn your fucking flag wherever I
damn well please. I carried their anthem convinced it was mine.
Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line. But then I
stood back and wondered what the fuck they had done to me. Made
accomplice to all that I promised I would never be. You carry
their anthem, convinced that it's yours. Invitation to honour.
Invitation to war. Bette Midler now assumes sainthood.
Romanticize murder for morale. Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old
oak tree my friend and "Gee, Wally. That's swell!" Fuck
the troops (Insert corny but relevant/ poignant catch phrase
here).
HAILLIE SELLASSE, UP YOR
ASS
You speak of Rastafari, but how can you justify belief in a God
that's left you behind. You simply fill the gap between the upper
and lower class and your faith merely keeps you in line. An
amalgamation of jewish scripture and christian thought. What will
that get you? Not a fucking fuck of a lot. Take a look at your
promised land. Your deed is that gun in your hand. Mt. Zion's a
minefield. The West Bank. The Gaza strip... Soon to be parking
lots for American tourists and fascist cops. Fuck zionism. Fuck
militarism. Fuck americanism. Fuck nationalism. Fuck religion.
FUCK MACHINE
c It's something physical. It's a conditioned reaction. It's
something physical. It's a conditioned attraction. But, have I
finally escaped? Will my eyes no longer rape the innocent womyn,
chyldren, humyn beings? Seeing the pain that it brings. Shallow,
superficial decision(s). Real beauty obscured by my tunnel/
tele-vision. But this just in! Bikini film at 10:00 pm! The
female anchor just smiles and ahrugs it off, "Boys will be
boys!". But do you really want to be our fucking toys? And
in again, just condone it with a grin. Sit back, idly chat,
smile, prove you're just a fuck machine. Is that what you realy
want to fucking be? Conditioned reaction. Conditioned attraction.
Conditioned suggestion. Conditioned rejection. And yet again,
subjecting women. The female anchors' fist finally clenched,
"I'm not your fucking toy!". And though I long to
embrace, I will not replace my priorities: humour, opinion, a
sense of compassion, creativity and a distaste for fashion.
THIS MIGHT BE SATIRE
I wanna chew my bubble gum with you. And I want to walk you home
from school. And I want to carry your books to every class. And I
want to fuck you up the ass (not). Oh girl, you know it's
true how much I love you. I want to sing it across the land.
Won't you hold my hand? She tells me that she loves me, now I'm
gonna tell her that I love her. She tells me that she loves me.
Now I'm gonna try and fuck her. But where the hell ae my
priorities? Left in the hands of the authorities. Yeah, baby!
WHO WILL HELP ME BAKE
THIS BREAD?
I speak my mind, I question theirs. It seems to me like noone
really cares. Peripherally blind, intellectually numb. Ignorance
by choice, or just plain fucking dumb? You boycott your brain.
You answer with fists. But my questions still persist (you
fucking asshole). You can rearrange my face but you can't
rearrange my mind. You can beat this shell about me, but you
can't touch what's inside. SO now, who will help me bake this
bread? Who will be the first to speak and leave complacency for
dead? I've done all that I can on my own. But stagnant minds
persist to squeeze blood from this stone. But I won't bleed for
you. I have no need for you. Death will be the day I concede to
you (As you can see, I really mean business. Poot!).
APPARENTLY, I'M A
"P.C. FASCIST" (BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT BOTH HUMAN AND
NON-HUMAN ANIMALS)
Some of my otherwise brilliant and productive friends (like
scoundrels and their flags) take final refuge in character
assainations; they ignore the issue and deny the relation between
our consumption and brutality. So you can go ahead and roll your
eyes and marginalize me/socially penalize me: play on my
insecurities. And you can feign ignorance, but you're not
stupid, you're just selfish. And you're a slave to your
impulse. And I kinda thought we all shared common threads in that
we gravitated here to challenge the conventions we've been fed
by a culture that treats (living, breathing, feeling)
creatures like (biological) machines. And if you buy that shit
then how long 'till it's me who serves as your commodity?
Through (for example), institutionalized violence and opression
of workers and women raped by sexism (and how about native
americans?). Do you still insist on feigning indignance (aka:
indignation) to reason? To collective self-interest? Tell you
what- I'll call you on your shit, PLEASE CALL ME ON MINE. Then we
can grow together and make this shit-hole planet better in time.
So why not consider someone else: STOP CONSUMING ANIMALS.
NAILING DESCARTES TO THE
WALL/(LIQUID) MEAT IS STILL
MURDER
I speak outside what is recognized as the border between
"reason" and "insanity". But I consider it a
measure of my humanity to be written off by the
living graves of a billion murdered lives. And I'm not
ashamed of my recurring dreams about me and a gun and a different
species (hint: starts with "h" and rhymes with
"Neuman's") of carnage strewn about the stockyards,
the factories and farms. Still I know as well as anyone that it
does less good than harm to be this honest with a
conscience eased by lies. But you cannot deny that meat is still
murder. Dairy is still rape. And I'm
still as stupid as anyone, but I know my mistakes. I have
recognized one form of oppression, now I recognize the rest. And
life's too short to make another's shorter-(animal
liberation now!).
LESS TALK, MORE ROCK
I'd like to actively encourage the toughest man to dance as hard
as he can to this, my song. And bring your stupidest friends
along. We wrote this song because it's fucking boring to keep
spelling out the words that you keep ignoring. And your mscho
shit won't phase me now. It just makes us laugh, we got your
cash, court-jester take a bow. Because did you know that when I
was nine, I tried to fuck a friend of mine? HE was
8, then I turned 10. 14 years later it happened again (with
another friend). This time me on the receiving end. And all the
fists in the world can't save you now. Cuz if you dance to this,
then you drink to me and my sexuality. With your hands down my
pants by transitive property.
ANCHORLESS
They called here to tell me that you're finally dying, through a
veil of childish cries. Southern Manitoba prarire's pulling at
the pant-leg of your bad disguise. So why were you so anchorless?
A boat abandoned in some backyard. Anchorless in the small town
that you lived and died in. I've got an armchair from your family
home. Got your P.G. Wodehouse novels and your telephone. I've got
your plates and stainless steel. Got that way of never saying
what you really feel. I don't want to live and die here where
we're anchorless.
RIO DE SAN ATLANTA,
MANITOBA
Our cities seem to function quite the same: sweeping ghettos
undeer one big rug makes them easier to contain, so the
upper-middle class can sleep (or shop in peace) and convince
themselves that "trickle-down" will solve this poverty.
Yes, murderers walk our streets and their weapons are their pens,
desks, policies and P.R. campaigns (fed by the spoils of war)
against the "lazy, shiftless" populations of the poor. This
system cannot be reformed...(so how about we
try something different?)
A PUBLIC DIS-SERVICE
ANNOUNCEMENT FROM SHELL
("Clear Thinking in Troubled Times": Winnipeg Free
Press, Nov 21st, 1995
"People have the right to the truth. Unvarnished. Even
uncomfortable. But never subjugated to a cause, however noble or
well-meaning. They have the right to clear thinking. Slogans,
boycotts and protests don't offer answers... (I)t has been
suggested that Shell should pull out of developing nations
altogether. The oil would certainly continue flowing. The
business would continue operating. The vast majority of the
employees would remain in place. But the sound and
ethical business practices synonymous with Shell, the
environmental investment, and the tens of millions of dollars
spent on community programs would all be lost. Again, it's the
people of developing nations that you would hurt. It's easy
enough to sit in your comfortable homes in the West, calling for
sanctions and boycotts against a developing country. But you have
to be sure that knee-jerk reactions won't do more harm than good.
Some campaigning groups say that we should intervene in the
political process in developing nations. But even if we could, we
must never do so. Politics is the business of
governments and politicians. The world where companies use their
economic influence to prop up or bring down governments would be
a frightening and bleak one indeed." (ha. ha.)
...AND WE THOUGHT THAT
NATION-STATES WERE A BAD IDEA
"Publicly subsidized! Privately profitable!" That's the
anthem of the upper-tier (the puppeteer untouchable). We focus a
moment, nod in approval and bury our head back in the bar-codes
of these neo-colonials while our former nemesis (ah, the
romance!): the nation-state, now plays fund-raiser for a new
brand of power-concentrate. Try again, but now we're confused-
what is "class-war"? Is this class war? Yes, this is
class war. And I'm just a kid- I can't believe that I gotta worry
about this kind of shit! What a stupid world! Yeah, this is just
beautiful... absolutely no regard for principle. What a stupid
world. (We're): 1) born 2) hired 3) disposed! Where that job
lands, everybody knows and you can tell by the smile on the CEO's
that the environmental restraints are about to go. You can bet
that laws will be set to ensure the benefit of unrestricted
labor-laws (all kept in place by displaced government death
squads). They own us. They produce us. They consume us. Can you
fucking believe this? What a stupid world. Fuck this
bullshit display of class-loyalties. The media and
"our" leaders wrap it all up in a flag- their fucking
shit-rag. hooray!
I WAS A PRE-TEEN
McCARTHYIST
At Harold Edward's Elementary you pay respect to Our God, Our
Flag, Our Military. In grade 3 I had a written composition about
the global threat of communism. And I was the luckiest 8-year old
McCarthyist of 1979: I spent spring break on the flight line of a
base in the Carolinas- the U.S. version of my dad had signed us
in. And 12 years later, the Gatling I'd touched that was strapped
to the nose of a U.S. A-10, separated flesh from bone and honed
its' skills on "lesser humans". And thus
confirmed the suspicions earned in the 7 years preceding about
the lies I was told and if the truth be known, I'm probably
better off believing (well, they said I'm better off
believing... somehowbetter off believing). But how could
they do this to me? Born head first and brought up ankle deep.
And maybe you're a lot like me- identified for 14 years without a
choice. Terrified the morning you woke up and realized that if
and when you jump ship, you either swim for shore or drown. Don't
let the fuckers drag you down.
RESISTING TYRANNICAL
GOVERNMENT (It's a dirty job- but somebody's
gotta do it)
Why don't we all strap bombs to our chests and ride our bikes to
the next G-7 picnic? It seems easier with every clock tick. But
whose will would that represent? Mine? Yours? The
rank-and-file's? Or better yet: the Government's? But I don't
want to catalyze or synthesize the second Final Solution. I don't
want to be the Steve Smith of the Revolution. Do you see the
analogy? We're the Oilers. The World Bank- the Flames! And just 2
minutes remain in the 7th game of the best of 7 series! Yeah,
Jesus saves! Gretzky scores! The workers slave. The rich get
more. One wrong move and we risk the cup. So play The Man,
not the puck. Why don't we plant a mechanic virus and erase the
memory of the machines that maintain this capitalist dynasty? And
yes, I recognize the irony that the very system I oppose affords
me the luxury of biting the hand that feeds. But that's exactly
why priviledged fucks like me should feel obliged to whine and
kick and scream- until everyone has everything they need.
GIFTS
Wake up, coughing, tired, with my face in my hands, staring at
the window as the sunlight demands action. All the energy it
takes to close these bedroom blinds. Wrote this selfish sadness
on a bathroom wall, spent half the span of some lost culture's
rise and fall, but I'm as clueless as a drooling four year old.
Still hoping I might find the capacity to let you know I know
you're lonely. So here's the last call for regrets, a final slow
dance through the days that we all hold on to. Here's the
promises I've made, tied too tight to undo. An unwrapped gift
from me to you. All the slightly insane on the 18 North Main,
reaching for a small-town downtown, night rain, nothing I could
say could be worth saying anyway today. Like "Hey, whatever
happened to what's that guys' name?", we get a little older
and it looks the same: askance. Excuse my failing sense of
humour. Here's the promises I've made; a razor blade and this
broken piece of chain. A history left to rust out in the rain.
THE ONLY GOOD
FASCIST IS A VERY DEAD FASCIST
Swastikas and Klan-robes. Sexist, racist, homophobes.
Aryan-Nations and Hammerskins: you can wear my nuts on your nazi
chins! God, I love a man in uniform! (But, uh, before we get too
intimate here, big fella): what exactly are the great historical
accomplishments of "your" race that make you proud to
be white? Capitalism? Slavery? Genocide? Sitcoms? Guns? War?
Pollution? Addiction? NAFTA? Thigh-Master? This is your fucking
white-history, my "friend". So why don't we start
making a history worth being proud of and stat fighting
the real fucking enemy: the white male capitalist
supemacist. Swastikas and Klan-robes. Sexist, racist,
homophobes. This one's for the "Master Race": my
brown-power ass in your white-power face! Kill them all and let a
Norse God sort 'em out!
A PEOPLE'S
HISTORY OF THE WORLD
At some turning point in history, some fuckface recognized that
knowledge tends to democratize cultures and societies so the only
thing to do was monopolize and confine it to priests, clerics and
elites (the rest resigned to serve), cuz if the rabble heard the
truth they'd organize against the power, privilege and wealth
hoarded by the few- for no one else. And did it occur to you that
it's almost exactly the same today? And so if our schools won't
teach us, we'll have to teach ourselves to analyze and understand
the systems of thought-control. And share it with each other,
never sayed by brass rings or the threat of penalty. I'll promise
you- you promise me- not to sell each other out to murderers, to
thieves... who've manufactured our delusion that you and me
participate meaningfully in the process of running our own
lives. Yeah, you can vote however the fuck you want, but power
still calls all the shots. And believe it or not, even if
(real) democracy broke loose, power could/would just "make
the economy scream" until we vote responsibly.
THE STATE-LOTTERY
Does it seem strange to you? The confetti. The balloons. The
mile-wide grins and the victory dance to welcome in the heir to a
state of (utter and complete) disrepair? Because it sure seems
strange to me: they're acting like they won the fucking lottery!
I mean, shouldn't they feel terror at the task that lies ahead:
to feed and house the people that this system's left for dead.
And could I have hit the nail much harder on the head? It's
profits before lives. They are motivated by greed. First they
taught us to depend on their nation-states to mend our tired
minds, our broken bones, our bleeding limbs. But now they've sold
off all the splints and contracted out the tourniquets and if we
jump through hoops then we might just survive. Is this what we
deserve? To scrub the palace floors? To fight amongst ourselves?
As we scramble for the crumbs they spit out, frothing at the
mouth about the scapegoats that they've chosen for us. With every
racist pointed finger I can hear the goose-steps getting closer.
They no longer represent us so is it not our obligation to
confront this tyranny?
REFUSING TO BE A MAN
I'm not going to try to tell you that I'm different from all the
rest. I've been subject to the same de-structure of desire and
I've felt the same effects; I'm a hetero-sexist tragedy. And
potential rapists all are we. But don't tell me this is
natural. This is nurturing. And there's a difference
between sexism and sexuality. I had different desires prior to my
role-remodelling. And at six years of age you don't challenge
their claims. You become the same. (Or withdraw from the game and
hang your head in shame). I think that's exactly what I did. I
tried to sever the connections between me and them. I fought
against their further attempts to convince a kid that birthright
can bestow the power to yield the subordination of women and do
you know what patricentricity means? I found out just a couple of
days/months/years/minutes ago. It means male values uber alles
and hey! Whaddaya know... sex has been distorted and vilified.
I'm scared of my attraction to body types. If everything desired
is objectified then maybe eroticism needs to be redefined. And
I refuse to be a "man".
PIGS WILL PAY
Thought, word & deed once sloganeered: a reaction undefined.
The battle-hymn, the mantra of a once unfocused mind. But as
logic tempered anger, (still inspired, but now informed), the
"pigs" we'd turned to caricature became far worse that
we'd warned. Morality enforcement based on the interest of a
state. Coerced into concordance and threatened into place. It's
not just isolated incidents of cop-jocks kicking ass. It's a
fucking war machine protecting the wealth of the employing class.