Thursday, May 8, 2008


the fire was my frenzy in the streets.

it caught the cops off guard as they drowned in their rioting beats.

the rage of the poor brought was against them to bear, and it became my sacred duty to oppose the architecture of the man.

the rich were not safe, the poor who obeyed their oligarchy were neither. my quest was simple and the work was beautiful in its purity.

nothing could compare to my pleasure: holy flames.

bourgeois craftsmanship, labored upon by their social lessers, had served the purpose of sustaining my brothers. now I would create more work for them.

better still, perhaps the white picket fences would all be brought down. no more false security.

I was headed for enemy territory. on the way, there was still much work to be done.

middle class government-obeying newspaper stand: gone to a frame and ash.

american dream in the form of automobile: blistering paint and shattering glass.

just the sound of it...orgasmic.

and work that should have been done in this neglected neighborhood. were those screams in the park? overgrown hedges were singed to smoldering brambles.

fire puts the fear of god in animals.

humans too, even though they think they're in control of it, the growth of a life that feeds on destruction.

how poetic.

liberate animals? liberate fire! free flames! a higher life form aching to escape from whatever will burn. plasma. no concern about right and wrong. its single, pure question: can it burn?

and so often a yes returns!

cleanse these rotting dog sheds and broken fences of drug dealers. condemned buildings nobody wanted to replace with strip malls, left to plague us.

this crackhouse, never raided because the property wasn't worth its dirt. the market here was only the desperate people who could afford it all but abandoning home.

better to start from scratch elsewhere than to risk another minute in this ghetto.

don't let them round us up, if they get us in one place they can eliminate us easier.

no more crackhouse. what the police could not do in years I did in seconds: confused and frightened, dealers and junkies were left to the night.

my purifying flames licked all the unworthy, removed their impurities, left them fully combusted. spray here, light there. a cigarette makes it look so innocent.

like a sacrament I sprinkled holy water upon those anointed for destruction. mother of god...dulce marĂ­a...this is thy work. hold your children to your burning bosom.

protect me from notice and from harm.

a hoodie, hands in pockets, figure hidden, I floated by.

it must have been the work of god, arson unpunished.

block after block...the fire's mouth would have been watering as I neared the wealthy, but its mouth is all that it touches and its water is too flammable to last.

all that property, it was a feast. not rotting wood and ruined homes, but new, light, cheaper houses. large and exquisite and soon to be trampled by entropy. all the work, all the architecture, all the craft...I longed to make it into glorious fire and leave only ash.

ashes are pure. dust to dust. there is no other way to god but through his holy burning spirit. the burning bush spoke to me on the hilltop.

one path, one flame, one ash.

we could unify the world with a bonfire.

our motto: danger: combustible. all of your hard-earned american dreams. perishable. money burns too.

spray target, light up. and more is consecrated unto him. burnt offerings, as in ages past.

burn the best parts of the animal. these offerings are pleasing unto him. and you, my mansion-dwelling sheep, will be scapegoat for our sins.

starting small, because everyone has to sacrifice. as with any fire, begin with first kindling, then build upon it. log cabin, pyramid...or for glory, throw it on every which way with enough lighter fluid. no work required.

but seeing careful structures crumble, seeing order converted to chaos, breathing the scent of the process.

for that I live.

I give my life unto him: he is pure as a flame. the resurrection, the truth and the light.

the dancing, dim firelight. the most beautiful sight.

dark hair dark eyes, they said. I liked that they reflected fires. as if in my soul is only flame, in my sockets some vision of death. in my soul is only flame.

dumpster fire danced in my eyes like anything else. one flame. picket fences, one pile of ash. if only there was enough gasoline to burn it hotter, make it perfect...

neglect us, let us decay, and now pay the price. if your success is your own, this should only be a minor setback. if bad luck never made us poor, then neither will yours.

I am walking bad luck.

your german-made dreams will not drive again.

do you believe the government should assist people now? or are charities enough? maybe you have enough money. then you can afford my favorite past time.

these are things I thought to the owners of cars which became balls of stinking, peeling fire.

no riots to be seen here, just complacent families--not even happy. this one voted republican. the bumper sticker peels and blackens, and soon the alarm sends me on my errand.

an errant knight. I felt like an inquisitor: confess. confess and we will torture you until you confess. confess and you will be unharmed until the execution.

burning witches: they did that in this country, too. they would have burned me in salem. they always told me I was unholy, there was something wrong with my soul and I knew what it was: it was just flames.

half-remembered history lessons from a half-finished high school career.

but this was about injustice now. these people barely aware of why we were sick of this world and its shit. facing down the gun. terrorized by thugs.

they must have been confused about the riot. why were these hoodlums running around throwing flames and smashing windows?

this is why: says your ruined car.

this is why: your cute burning mailbox.

this is why: says your white picket fence. now it's black stubble, will keep even less out than before. next time buy chain link.

actions speak louder than words: the message should be clear: we won't be subdued forever. you cannot keep us down because there are more of us, and we have less to lose.

we have been beaten down too many times to believe in your american dreams. we are too worried about surviving.

all these words: but what I see is your house, burning. this warms my heart.

your bmw destroyed.

the look on your face is all that is missing, but the fire is enough contact for me. seeing the flames is the same as seeing my dark eyes.

don't be sad. I am freeing you. follow me, follow the path of god.

become one of his chosen and set your things alight yourself.

easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a the master said, come go with me. drop your nets. drop your worries and take up the righteous path.

give your possessions away freely.

your material worth is what I burn, not you yourself. not what matters. embrace this. embrace the end of your attachment to your things. find higher meaning.

as I have: life enriched with fire. rise above my poverty. so few the real chances to do it, so harsh the reaction by those it would help. but it rises me above and this night I am the angel of death. destroying angel. avenging angel.

I will pass over you only if I see the right mark: blood smeared as door frame sacrifice.

the rich homes never lit up. so little was accomplished and I had such high goals.

some grass branded for anarchy. fences destroyed halfway until the fire department put it out. car paint ruined until desperate owners hosed flames to death.

we all have a dream. we all fail to make it real.

but the dreams that came to me that night were beautiful: I was a flame, dancing about the city. I inspired hoped. I made the people see how to be free, the path to escape from a rat race.

others danced with me but we were the same: demanding nothing but what we could burn. give us the material we need, it will soon be ash. equal with dirt. the humblest of the humble. the abased shall be exalted.

we were pure because we were not picky. nothing else mattered to us, only what could be burned. all else was the same to us, our eyes were innocent and our mouths were hungry.

we spread, we loved all with the sincerest warmth, and we were united in peace and purpose. but so much to do, though our work was a feast.

when it was done, everything would be right.

No comments: