Blood flows in one direction,
            towards the heart.
Freedom, if the concept exists, never
Shall leave behind a single soul ever
Trapped inside wage
            labor to do their part.

Not money but freedom is what I need.
Don’t give me none of that
            wage slave’s currency.

It’s a great irony of civilization
that pure reason
            is in fact
a Gateway drug of insanity.
Stuck to facts,
all truth is
always the truth of power
in this rigged dimension
where might makes right;
Our human rights
are always the product of surrendering
personal sovereignty;
Our freedom of speech
is always the right of the State
to take that away;
Human freedom
under State government
is only that which can
            by brutally denied
                        to you
if you’re standing
            in its way.

            thinking and writing,
Creating an edifice—
the mind is a calculation
            machine,
striving to bring concepts
            & things
            into balance.
& Civilization is already
            a simulacrum,
especially when imposing
            a center on the boundless;
Hierarchizing creates
            classes of Master
            & Slave,
Language and mythologies
            are a semiotic code
            that justifies the Order,
and hence Ideology
            & material subjection
            reign.

The singularity of information
            is the boot
            of the control society,
And sold as liberating,
            a freedom
            that is slavery,
which is its neoliberal character.

Freedom as a War
            of all against all,
Law that codifies in Justice
            that the mighty will rule,
This is the neoliberal regime
            & tyranny of the market
—making us, in the mythologies
            of pseudoscience, believe
Competition & violence are
            intrinsic to the human species.

Art sought pretentiously
            to immortalize
By resisting death,
We’ve petrified life
And the contrivances multiplied.
The Lords even in death
continued to rule with their legacy
like mummified pharaohs,
The canon was haunted
            by the auguring
            of an Ozymandias,
And we all fell into a cult
            of personality from Shakespeare
On, as if under the spell
            of one such
            fragile Ego.

The Lords are artificial gods
whose powers are godlike.
They may not even exist
apart from the human mind,
Whose power is nowhere
when it is everywhere,
nowhere in the people
when in institutions;
Nowhere in communities
when in the State,
nowhere in our bones & sinews
when in our bellies as processed meat,
in our brains as pharmaceuticals,
Surrounding us as in a spider’s web
            of digitized capital.

Power is a frame,
a picture frame,
The capstone of representational
            thinking,
A Master code.
The structure of language
            itself,
Structures of the unconscious
Like dinosaur bones,
            an unending history of brutality,
Arranging in spacetime
the black blood of Empire.
Flowing always to the top
            of the cybernetic head
                        of Talos,
As its structural hand
shatters the skull of the
            indigenous
with a billy club—

Brutalize your Ego,
Kill It dead,
            the Fascists
            inside your head.

            Give us
competition without resentment,
cooperation without hierarchy.
law absent of violence,
rule drained of domination.

Don’t give me none of that
            wage slave’s currency.
Not money but freedom is what I need.