Eurozone/ Thinking you know./State of the Union.

Eurozone

Thinking you know 

I trust these Greek fucks shit
l 268km p9,30
state of a nation, price of fast food, state of the continent. Do you think baking pizza is humiliating? 

Chanting singing getting lucky, going there, looking environment you have got
humble MFer with a big ass dick, how you live your day, day to day. Why do you ask? Chanting psychotic autism, repetition, asses wobbling. I trust these Greek fucks shit. Laughter. Someone selling magazines calls. 

please dial 0440337474. How someone so beautiful AHAHAHAHAHA for someone so beautiful 

For Euro crisis are there any words left? After having saved the banks, who saves the governments? Is it a modern crime that had to happen or something that has happened always just getting an enormous scale? 

That trustworthy look. Happen something like this. To get lucky. I don’t think you did. Change is the only absolute, if it happens crashing, then it just does. Modern assholes, arrogance, your clothes don’t hide it. They make it worse. 

The trigger wire for the bomb that had exploded earlier in the day in a place like N

Many of the men who disappeared recited verses, sand on and under, in and all over,
They never saw them again, they never heard of them again, no need to find hidden meanings in there 

Of course, some knew what was happening,
It was as if the men had vanished. blown away. it is like some people are more valuable than others. Who is to decide? Whose task it is to know?
they searched for,
had been searching for the DHM,
deep hidden meaning, to look for
fingerprints of the men with explosives
bullet-­riddled body
demolished
the orchard’s walls,
the trigger wire for the bomb that had exploded earlier 

here the shooting of a child is unremarkable for everyone
here brain stains on the wall is normal
decaying body, human jaw on the ground
after America’s 13-­year war in Afghanistan officially comes to an end. to an end. https://www.rollingstone.com/interactive/feature-a-team-killings-afghanistan-special-forces/

Episteme

Meaningfully vulgar, foul contingency and open arms
them to be cohesive, to bind us together.
Juicy Lucy, should I believe her, taste her orange. Her disorder, her glory and sudden messages, techniques of domination, her lap, tenderness and warmth.
Standing powerlessly not moving an inch, only my eyelids do their reflex shutter movement on my lenses as I capture the moment to my archive of every moment in my life. The wet grass that I am standing on has given up on winter and black earth. Dividing practices come without forcing. There is something I cannot stand and it is a lie of affection. How much do we live in world of abstractions.
Is all abstract in the end? Sensing and reasoning, to have sensed and reasoned. Certain amount of rage which follows, burns, boils over and torments. 

Deflower the girl. Deflowering earth. Deflowering her. One considered ruined. Difference experienced. Deflowering truth. 

Malicious nocturne, young temperature of instantaneous and perhaps total entropy of the universe. Sounding grand, finding it in my lungs.

The need to come out. Phrase for someone admitting and showing. Coming out, revealing maintaining dignity and when you lose it, fearing shame, thoughts and talk. Brutality. Maintaining, what does it mean, how, a posture. What needs to be maintained and which parts could be discarded as useless. A well-tended body. Keeping up, staying in posture, situation in life against for what would be a better decision, difficult. Is it following tradition, listening to somebody else’s opinion than one’s own, on one’s life, rules, dictations, directions on how to. What is losing dignity? Deliberately, carelessly, why put yourself to disgrace, what will come of it, of not wanting to care about the consequences. to be killed in the most brutal way possible, publicly. I knew you could. I knew the Idea of failing and starting something new or ending up having disastrous after life or having just what one happens to get. Fear of losing face, fear of showing you my face is gone. What is the worst scenario that might happen? To be killed? 

Snowflakes form this way of water drops
at temperatures several degrees below water’s normal freezing point
depressions as ponds and lakes
zero zero Celsius centigrade and below below
water all, is ice infinitesimally small drops
all the corruption in my hand 

His w

It is bass in his voice
reifying the opposition, difference of quality in low and something large.
Foamy chocolate heart of an image, still fingers hateful night, and so on. But yes, it is romantic. Searching for sources of awe even in contempt. I have a constant feeling of guilt for I don’t know what, for that and that. Quiet masochism. Dirty and cheap in between. But it is not me. I’m the receiver of his favor, of he paying attention, making me solid out of these pieces he found and what is me. 

Moon as a triple reflection on a window demonstrated by a street lamp. I go slowly by floating like asleep, as sleep itself, sleeping. Sink my hands into foam, into my hands and his voice, rub it on my face to feel his w. 

Heaven above, and ours, Hell right here, after Dorian Lynskey, History of protest songs, 33 revolutions per minute. 2010 /When is revolution, irrational right and wrong, essays and poems, 2014/Is female body a commodity?2020

”Oh, I ain’t a Communist necessarily, but I’ve been in the red all my life.” 
”Work and pray, live on hay/ You’ll get pie in the sky when you die” The Preacher and The Slave, 1911
The Red Song Book 1932The Socialist Rebel Song Book 1934Negro Songs of Protest 1936 

Political message put into the arena of entertainment, books I can imagine in my hand, small, worn out with yellowish smelly pages, the ongoing rebellion, ongoing inspiration of coal miners, their wives, copper miners, their wives, textile workers, their husbands, inspired by Woody Guthrie, This Land Is your Land, 1944. ”I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world..that make you take pride in yourself and your work” Woody Guthrie’s mission statement which he read on the radio 1944 in his weekly show on New York’s WNEW. 

This is a kind of Poem, this is a kind of scribbles, I end up seeing the same thing, a pattern, but I cannot put my finger on it 

Failed to quicken the pulse, Ella May Wiggins who was shot dead during the Gastonia textile strike 1929, hero of the left. Message belonged to whoever stuck a flag on it. And increasingly the flag was red. Leftist intellectuals were in love, most of all, with the idea of a common man. Sometimes he drank, he fought, even shot his woman down. There was nothing ennobling about it. Music of rumors, dreams, ghost stories and whispers in the night. 

Dust can’t kill me, beneath the cover of bad grammar, misspellings, Okie vernacular, which would come in handy in darker times. 

It had not rained in four years bitter but exhilarating like biting into a lemon. To know about Confucius, did he know more about hypocrisy than he did about nature of American society. 

Something fishy for robbing her off her lightness mixed with serrated glass day and night
it was when she discovered heroin in 1940s, and commenced slow dying, scourging hypocrisy 

from sea to ocean from sea to shining sea aw­-shucks, ionization of a affectionately common man. 

Full of bad luck and violent ends. Violent beginnings, startling start, I took these words from this book I found added them here next to my words. I gave words back to you. You do what you can with them. 

What has happened before, what happens now to a worker? Is he/she called a worker anymore, the proletarian, or is it employee, staff, laborer. We have short history of couple of industrial revolutions during which many other kinds of revolutions have taken place. Couple of which have been Feminist. Suffrage ­movement, sexual revolution, inventios of contraception, women’s right to study, abortion, divorce, go to work and have a career. Women’s rights to their bodies are still under questioning, which makes me wonder why. Why female body is the main object of terror and a possession of man? We are still fighting for human rights to happen on many levels. But all in all, women’s rights have taken big steps forwards globally during couple of decades, lots is still to be done. It astonishes me how heavy the battle is.