{"To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a Wild Flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And Eternity in an hour"- Auguries of Innocence, William Blake...Today's post is part of not only @jayna's 50-word contest but also a response to one of Mexie's recent videos on reclaiming radical creativity which will be displayed below. (Of course I shall ctrl+c and ctrl+v my answer to the prompts she poised in the video as I already made that comment. However, I do encourage you people to make yer own responses on here and her channel; of course, after watching her video to understand the context of the prompt.) Regardless, a small indie poem due to all these cropping up at the right time... Today's music-aides: "Painkillers" [1.] (Max Payne 3 OST).}

- Memories of guilt -

Memories of guilt -
ones sweet booze can't drown,
ones that "penny killers" can't numb.

In dusty plains
there I can see many
yet all easily can I ignore.

True you say:
"But sand is most annoying"
for those with developed æsthetic concerns.

Yet! Sand cannot make people tremble. Memories can.

My comment response:

"This was a nice and much needed (and massively needs to be propagated far and wide) video. NeoLiberal Capitalist Realism really had sucked us dry and demonize tons of things a few decades ago would consider "normal" (which even then there's no real "normal" in sincerity). From the demonization of creative AND critical thought (thanks to a god awful reaction to the '68 revolutions), to the killing off of attention-span (I mean look at the Capitalist ads from now to back then, certainly less flashy and more borrowing of one's time in those past ads), to the unabashed abuse of works that hint any resentment to any leftist movement as a critique of Communism and that it shall always fail and the misuse of sources to get their points across (the sources of the Black Book of Communism alone debunks the book, since most of the sources contradicts it and that's empirical data alone)! Yet let's get onto the exercises:"

1. Headlines of the Future Communist World (Utopia or not, it matters little):

"Archaeologists find original draft of the Communist Manifesto, World rejoices in a great find!"
"The Sahara Desert, more like Sahara plains! Reverse Desertification made 1/2 of the land now useful."
"Century anniversary of the Great Mexie Revolution begins tomorrow! Prepare thy veggies!"
"Cuba's not alone anymore, Cuban medical model now practiced by the entire globe!"
"From hopelessness we mustered courage, and that has made all the difference."

2. Basically do some extrapolation and force that extrapolation of yourself to write thyself a letter:

"Hey past me? Or is it me? Or should me be obnoxious and say I to be proper? Regardless, through whatever magicry the usage of Dialectics to send things back in time is a real thing. I mean, how else did I send this? But all things aside, let's talk a little bit of how my contingencies shaped to where I am now and how yours might end up better just with this letter:

Firstly, continue agitating and organizing. Without these two, just saying, will lead you to a bad spot.
Secondly, educate and study! You already got that humbled pride, continue humbling it. But don't take shit from no one, but don't start it! Regardless, help the people learn. Read texts/works with them. Help them crack a tough nut a section can be. But also learn to read thy Hegel as you would with Marx, learn from them, apply their stuff and move forward and away from something that can never be reconciled.

Thirdly, to focus and worry on what you cannot control shall be a detriment always, a hallucination of power over something that rejects your meager attempts. But if it's something WE can control, that we being the people, can control, then it's something worth suffering/struggling for. The Proles before any revolution lacked power over the Means of Production; and if they were successful, they won it; if they lost it, they always got next time as the Capitalist only has borrowed time. Truly the Capitalist suffers the most thinking they have power over everything, give them a heart attack by robbing it from their petty semi-control.

Fourthly, don't worry about the Concert of the Online Left. That thing has already burnt down and we made better of it in the future. So sleep, lest of course this is sent to a later version of me that saw it already as useless: you see in another letter I attached, I provide details on how to burn it down to make a new Online Left. The damn infighting is obnoxious and not even yielding good fruit; especially for those meme socialists.

Lastly, give a speech on the courage of hopelessness. Trust me, it'll turn those hopeless people to courageous souls. To utilize our feeling to say: "Screw it, why to live under a life not worth living? Let's rise up and show how much we won't stand for this shit. I will not be an optimist to the system by saying I'm a pessimist to any progressive movement. I will be a pessimist to the system by saying it cannot last forever and it has killed us already, we are indeed the Dead walking amongst the living." Of course, that isn't the script since you already are making one, but make sure it gives that feeling so the "pessimists" will stop being so optimistic in Capitalism surviving.

Anyways, you may be asking: "well how's the future, future I?" And this is what I have to say: great! We've just got done with our recent Soviet (if you forgot, it means council) meeting and we're moving forward in production and stuff. Still have to re-read theory, just mainly to help student learn. Otherwise, we got many anarchist communes dotted around our global state; have to say it's a good ecstasy to go to one and live there for a week. Ever since we burned that damn Concert of the Online Left, the Black-Red Flag relations have healed significantly. Like we recovered from a seriously terrible break up, I can't imagine how 'twas back then to be hating on each other. Good grief, we really did worry on our petty differences and worried not on how to best compliment each other in areas. A friendly rivalry is better than a murderous one, that's for sure. Anyways, enclosed some items and pictures in this letter.

XOXO you're gonna need them,
[expunged because ink spill-over]"

Image Source Here

- Grosz Zabójca -

[1.]

Holsterin' the rifle,
I slink my weapon over
after hearing the mag go "clink."

Feet goes lame
as the arms reach out
to soon sense the cold metal.

Ho! Sizzlin' cold.
A contradiction to the star
and her dry-tan patches under me.

Arms reachin' again,
graspin' the tatter'd hatch handles
and givin' pain to rusty hinges.

Upon the openin', the feet and arm coordinate.

Lightin' the torch -
I swear this ladder-well darken'd,
nie brighten'd up for the eyes

Rummagin' the basement,
everything toss'd and turn'd about
but plac'd back again soon afterwards.

Nothing about fear.
But respect for the state
my mind had found things as.

As to avoid any more memories of guilt.

Memories of guilt -
ones sweet booze can't drown,
ones that "penny killers" can't numb.

In dusty plains
there I can see many
yet all easily can I ignore.

True you say:
"But sand is most annoying"
for those with developed æsthetic concerns.

Yet! Sand cannot make people tremble. Memories can.

Ho! The dunes.
How crisp the pressure makes
when you squeal in that way.

Yet with such,
you pester not the mind
nor contort the psyche that much.

However with such:
with one, 'tis an itch;
with many, a worryin' pain trend.

Yet oh how "penny killers" and booze push!

Aye, 'tis true.
In apocalyptic times we live,
they can do neural suppression fine.

Ho! I say:
both mental and physical pains
are gone with these two drugs.

Ho! One catch.
You have only cur'd symptoms
and nie their root causes now.

But what is immediate is most relevant now.

But still holdin',
and holdin' I shall still,
this lil' helper in perilous times.

Ho! Pain's pain.
Bullet hole? Pain be damn'd.
For the sowing can wait later.

As one notes,
the physical trauma does hurt
but the mental scars people forever.

And so says everyone when scaling the abyss.

Chuggin' a lot,
the pill bottle's chuck'd away
and the sand announces its touchdown.

Holsterin' the rifle -
eyes slowly scope in now
to find any threat yay far.

So far, none.
Hands easin' the grippin' squeeze,
my feet began marching one way.

Vision spinning and bluring, yet a desir'd effect.

Cited posts:

@jayna - "50-word tasker"

Cited images

Gasmask Angel