THE FREEDOM WALK

THE FREEDOM WALK

Freedom doesn’t write itself with airspray on a toilet wall;
for only through deep work and trouble
(living as we do in 3-D rubble) can it come at all.
If left to find its own sweet way inevitably it will
end up lost, alone and subject to decay
(at unrecoverable cost — the high price which we foolly pay).

Ask any dungeon-dweller and she’ll translate
the scrawled-out ciphertext
from broken hearts to runes
while “men” with pigeon-chests presume authority
(belittled by their dads from birth so now their
adult thrust is grasp-at-any-form-of-seniority
to block the pain and gain some pseudo-worth).
They strut about, despise the free
appeal to the bourgeoisie
live their lives ungratefully
delight in all profanity
dance to the tune of powersthatbe
string pity up perfunctorily
stamp on flowers petulantly
subdue their wives stoneheartedly
then penetrate ungraciously
(ejaculate ungasmicly)
relate to all mendaciously.
They print their names indelibly
then think that will excuse them from The End.

Freedom isn’t freedom ‘to’ do this or that
but freedom ‘from’ the skein of moral acrobats
the jerks who practise tit-for-tat
the must-have-this or must-have-that.
Freedom doesn’t come through winning wars
or moving boundaries — widening shores —
hiding all your filthy secrets in a drawer
painting over smudges on your wall
winning fights or spats or brawls
firing guns at ragheads gooks or reds
who you have systematically bled
until they had no choice except to
fall in line with blinkers on their eyes,
or others who you’ve stigmatised
ad hominemly, bitterendly, condescendly,
(all because they won’t play ball
resisting rule’s control-freak call).

Freedom cannot shine on tarnished gold
(for that’s what we in all our vain unglory have become)
or waft its perfume near the stench of mould
or raise its flag where lies are told
or where truth merely masquerades
or where greed’s tyranny pervades.
Freedom’s now a dirty word
a floating turd on lakes of lazy madness —
a gaudy bauble thrown in human faces (faeces?)
whereby coldly calculating merchants’ left-hands
glibly sell you “freedom” (faux-democracy)
while right-hands have their grip around your throat
without you even knowing that they’ve ripped
your shirt and coat from off your back
and sent you blindly reeling down another track
appropriately called “Eat Dirt” — an epithet
you proudly tattoo on your heart
(the ugliness which hides beneath your shirt).

Contrary to what mostpeople think and
cutting through the rot which they have learned
and all the poisoned water which they drink,
freedom is a road which must be earned.
All of us enslaved to systems we despise
deserve no more than we now get
(for we submit our freedom to their thrall)
until we grow a king-sized dick and fight
with it (our sword) to span the heightless wall.
Yes, women too! Expand that clit!
and make a stand against
your captors’ cartoon whip at work, at home,
or even all the self-harm things you think are fun
(for freedom-stealers sell us worlds
of make-believe wherein we love and need
a plethora of shiny screams disguised as dreams).

Just walk away!
as if that was the only walk which can be done
no turning back or looking over shoulders
wishing you could run
because of all the consequences
which you know will surely come.
Just walk away!
without a trace of bitter gall.
Don’t drape a victim’s shawl across your back
for then they have you still
their hooks dig through your sublet will;
but this must be your own
if freedom is to be your lifelong home.

That walk alone (though mostly unbeknown
to most of us) creates enough momentum
to attract the gaze of angels’ admiration.
For then they reach into our world with
hands of filigree which act just like placentas
linked to angel freedom centres
then you soonsome will create the place
which you can call your own
in which you freely utter: “I am home!”

So let no human
mutilate your essence or the scroll
on which your acts are evermore engraved.
For if you just capitulate to cudgel’s every whim
and run with herds and swim with tides,
you don’t deserve the gift of soul
which must be exercised to keep yourself
adrift and unenslaved,
unsullied
clear
and whole.

Pro Deo et Constitutione – Libertas aut Mors
Semper Vigilans Fortis Paratus et Fidelis
Joseph F Barber- http://josephfreedomoranarchy.blogspot.com/

http://www.alan-morrison.com/