The Journal of Andre Alliance

Post 9/11/01: These are times when life gets a little too real. The unbelievable becomes the all too possible, and the comforts of certainty melt as the day of the unbeknown unfold. Words are too trivial. Nothing can convey the spectrum of emotion one experiences in times like these. Look around vacantly, trapped...

It's said we have lost our innocence. But can we claim this as true? Was it unprovoked? Are we really the blind lambs the media thinks we are? The last few years of complacency are over. Maybe now, common Americans will seek to be more informed when it comes to foreign politics. And the media could possible be the place to start. But watching the coverage the past few days was unsettling. Beyond the carnage and tears lay something I couldn't quite grasp. It all seemed so one-sided. All the pictures of dismay, all the spurious interviews with politicians just didn't sit right. The news would flash glimpses of parades and cheering in the streets of some far-off land. Why? Spawning hatred? And what's with the constant visual assault of bin Laden's pictures? Are they trying to put a face behind the chaos?

Nothing can prevent the chaos. It will never cease to be. Peace and war...everything is fused into a duality. In a polaric universe, we only come to the equator once in a blue.

ONCE IN A BLUE

here's another tidbit of water's Amused to Death:
miraculous you call it babe
you ain't seen nothing yet
they've got pepsi in the andes
mcdonalds in tibet,
yosemite's been turned into
a golf course for the japs,
the dead sea is alive with rap
between the tigris and the euphrates
there's a leisure center now
they've all kinds of sports
they've got bermuda shorts,
they had sex in pennsylvania
a brazilian grew a tree,
a doctor in manhattan
saved a dying man for free
it's a miracle
another miracle...

by the grace of god almighty
and the pressures of the marketplace
the human race has
civilized itself
it's a miracle...
we've got warehouses of butter,
we've got oceans of wine,
we've got famine when we need it,
got designer crime
we've got mercedes
we've got porsche
we've got ferrari and rolls royce,
we've got choice...
she said meet me
in the garden of gethsemane my dear
the lord said peter i can see
your house from here
an honest man
finally reaped what he had sown
and a farmer in ohio
has just repaid a loan
it's a miracle
another miracle...
by the grace or god almighty
and the pressures of the marketplace
the human race
has civilized itself...
can we pity the vengeful?
sorry honey, your thoughts are as perverted as the taliban is insidious. we
all experience loss,, i ask
what prompts us to use it as an excuse?
like in a dog pack there'll always be an alpha male, get used to it....
and by the way, hatred is an innate survival technique that evolution,
religion, or where ever your faith lies, has engrained in us over tens of
thousands of years. i'd say it's parallel to hunger even.
so to all the politicians, generals, and vindictive sons and daughters-- keep
a stiff upper lip

On a strict poop diet...
YAWN,,, never say never youngbuck,
more french than paris? bah ur facts are crooked.
we've got more penguins than Antarctica.
new york wasn't founded on diversity
t'was founded on bloodshed and shysterism, and
if ya have to ask for or demand respect ya dont deserve it.
and check this out-
ya cant separate 'pop' culture from our way of life
because it is our way of life.
our #1 export is what....u got it.... entertainment.
so if you actually believe it doesn't represent american's or our way of
thought
ya haven't been living on the same planet i have.
u can dream up grievances for the so called 'un' americans
but u'll just be begging the question.
like you did with ms. cleopatra.
dissent is what makes this country great.
and it sounds like someone here has ego issues.
calling stuff 'petty', 'superficial', and 'arrogant'
places it beneath whatever high brow culture u've been assimilating,
and if ya think 'foreigners' are welcome even 'adored'
tell that to the palestinians in my neighborhood.
seems hard bro...
to be eating all that shit of your plate w/o a fork.
so plz, if ya got nuthin insightful, helpful or positive to say
shut da fuck up!
say hi to tammy faye for me would ya?

madame mao- thanks for daring
and thanks for caring
but more importantly
thanks for sharing.
to those who toy with multi-syllables,,,
its that big bite of a t-bone which cant be digested for weeks. however
pejorative this may seem, leave socio-politico rhetoric, vernacular, or what
have you, for the dominant class fatcats who sit comfy in their armani
pinstripe suits. leave it to those torpid fattening souls who still haven't
been able to sever their umbilical ties with mum.
words on words--i've used this place to satiate,
the works i've bled to you all
are juxtapositions of thoughts
that've found their way to me
and my posting 'em are relays,
ways of keeping their worth
screaming through perpetuity...
a gypsy once cut my heart
and bled her soul
into mine
condemning it
to dark ruins
near that forsaken
meadow
where a river
of green
laughs as it passes
through an endless
summer
making for the sea...

when thoughts of rage

beg for release

the malaise of terror

can be cured

but we'll have to wait

till the human race

is run.what happened to the post war dream???

indeed andre o.,, well put.
--voting-- sure shot default of accountability. at least we can
'choose' our
hegemony.
these big brothers- united spiritually, united socially, united
financially, united in all possible ways- will try in vain to outstretch
technopoly's senescent fingers, until the entire world is in her coils.
jihad vrs mcworld, freedom vrs terrorism, civilsation vrs tribalism,
i see this as more of a domestic dispute between
MOTHER NATURE AND FATHER TIME...
hence our (the children's) doubts and fears.
query-where does credibility stem from?
are these happenings darwin or neitzsche could have braced for?
ladies and gentlemen, remember brezhnev and party?

now the
final solution
can be
applied.
boom boom
bang bang
lie down
your dead...
oh georgie,
what have
we done???
and what of the laymen?,, are we to gather at the cenotaph...
are we to let the teardrops rise...
fuck all that we gotta get on with these
there's too many home fires burning
and not enough trees...
well good luck with Qu fu aria,
here's a tidbit just in case ya haven't heard it yet:
confucious says- he who knows and knows he knows... is a wise man- follow him
he who knows and knows not he knows... is asleep-
awaken him
he who knows not and knows he knows not... is a
child- teach him
he who knows not and knows not he knows not... is a
fool- avoid him
where would ya put little ol' georgie bush?,, and the big bad bin laden?Couple more ideas...
and what of the alien anthropologist???
and the god that cowers in our scars???
and those left to sweep away the shards???
and the victims of hegemony's bubonic mars???

"i am a north wind to ripe flags" thus
spake nietzsche
"and i'm about to rip that ass to shreds" thus
spake the piper
KABOOM!!
the clouds are crying blood
mother
here's a bit for those of you warmed by an old man's ramblings...
*hope ya see it as necessary as i do*
-my twelve year old granddaughter told me-
'one of the things i like to watch'
'is war'
'i watch it'
'so then i know if our sides are winning'
'if our sides our losing'
'oh and by the way'
'happy new year granpapa'
*a Post-War Reflection*
two things that haunted me the most
were the days i'd have to collect the dead
and when i left bill hubbard in no man's land...
the mustard had struck
and i was picked up and taken
into their trench...
i had no sooner taken two steps down
into their trench...
when i heard a call
'hello raz'
'i'm glad to see you'
he said
'its my second night here'
'and i'm feeling bad'
it was bill hubbard
one of the men who trained in england
one of the original battalion
and with her majesty's fusiliers on the wing
i asked him
if he could make it back on his own
he said
'no'
i could see that it was probably a fatal wound
i could imagine what pain he was in
he was dripping with sweat
so i shouldered him
and after i had gone about three shaloms,
traversed that,
if only there had been...
had been a path or a road...
we tumbled,
and he pummeled me
'put me down'
'put me down'
'i'd rather die'
'i'd rather die'
'put me down'
i was hoping he would faint...
he said
'i can't go any further'
'let me die'
i said if i leave you here bill
you won't be found
please,
lets have another go
he cried
'alright then'
and the same thing happened...
he wouldn't...
he couldn't...
stand it anymore
and i had to leave him there...
in no man's land.
years later
i saw bill hubbard's name
on uh...
on a memorial
it read
these men died
missing
but not forgotten
the countless names
and the...
but when i saw his name
i was absolutely transfixed
it was as though
he was now
a human being...
instead of some sort of
nightmarish memory
i had of leaving him
all those years ago
and i felt relieved
and ever since then
i felt a bit happier about it
because always before
when ever i thought of him
i would say to myself
was there something else
that i could have done...
'i'd rather die'
'i'd rather die'
'put me down'
and that always sort of worried me...
but having seen him
and his name in the register
as you know
in the memorial there's a little safe
there's a register
where they have every name...
and seeing his name
and his name on the memorial
it sort of
lightened,
lightened my heart if you like
'granpapa, when is it you saw him?'
ahh,
when i was eighty,
eighty-seven...
that would be the year,
the year nineteen eighty four,
1984.
there's trouble on the breeze
making for our seas
the spires of babel, please
in bursts of hegemony...
-and remember kiddies,
its hard to meditate on amphetamines--cadences for the disproportioned malcontents-
tired of assimilating mediated bullshit?
tired of baton service with a smile?
tired of holding the escutcheon for rank and files?
dont know what to do?
dont know what to say?
dont know what to flay?
wanna play some russian gambling games?
wanna bring this snubnose to your head?
wanna devour Circe's sweets and bread?
dare you spit in the fan?
dare you bite even a peach?
dare you cast feeling far from reach?
i died forsaken in Formosa.
you died high above the skies.
earth died when the bloodgate's miscarry streamed down her thighs.
is edu-mediation your alienation?
is smash how you feel?
is it phallic's automatic or Beezlebub's deal?
-gesundheit to the dreary and warm buckets of tears to the clea=
nly-
(a bon mot for the galaxy's vacant eyed soo=
thsayers)
hey there kiddies,,
solemnity has flown across the ocean, leaving only a memory,
when all you hear are the brazen cowboys, and overgrown children,
crying up their storms.... dont worry darling you can sleep in
here tonite...
you are something special,, you are something special,, but....
all in all your nothing but a brick in some mad brothers
wall.
here's a little smidgen of what roger waters deemed:
the Wall
oooh oooh babe, momma loves her baby,
and daddy loves you too,
and the sea might look warm to ya babe
and the sky may look blue,
oooh oooh babe,
if you should go skating
on the thin ice of modern life,
dragging behind you
the silent reproach of a million tear stained eyes,,,
dont be surprised when a crack
in the ice appears under your feet,
ya slip out of your depth
and out of your mind
with your
fear flowing out behind you
as you claw the thin ice.....
-and remember kiddies-its hard to meditate
on amphetamines
cya when i cya
OUT OF CHAOS COMES WHAT AGAIN?,,
OR WAS IT THAT I MISSED SOMETHING HERE?
top of the mornin' kiddies- hope this message finds you luminous,,
i wont bother justifying my absence, i just hope that my insight (no matter
how skewered) is still welcome and that i may join in on your weekly Sat.
banters. evergreen, thanks goes out to ya for allowing make ups in your other
classes.
in keeping with media suggestions i submit: roger waters
Amused to Death
it might not be your cup of tea, and its likeness to the postman reading, it
offers up perspective for what's been, what is, and what's coming.. can we
all agree that when--you give a species too much rope they'll fuck it up??
here's a slight juxtaposition of this and some other works: hope it dims the
din sweetie....
did you see the frightened ones,
did you hear the falling bombs,
did you ever wonder why we
had to run for shelter when the promise
of a brave new world
unfurled beneath a clear blue sky...
did you see the frightened ones,
did you hear the falling bombs,
the flames are all long gone but
the pain lingers on...
all alone or in
twos
the ones who
really love you,
walk up and
down outside the
wall...
some hand in
hand
some gathering
together on bands
the bleeding
hearts and the artists
make their
stand..
and when they've given you
they're all
some stagger and fall,
after all
its not easy...
banging
your head
against some mad buggers
wall...
a reason,
a season,
a lifetime,
are mere
breaths lost
when you
me
and we
sigh,,,
'bartender'
'leave the bottle'
adieu kiddies,, my fair dulcinea awakens...
to brush our love from the bed,
and prepare nostalgic tea biscuits,
spread with her homemade marmalade...
some last fat to chew on guys and gals-- when you read this
oddly enough
we'll all be united
in a silent
accord....
god bless the speechless,, they've said more
than a rambler like myself could in a lifetime
already showed the wily japanese
already dealt with the vietnamese
already brought the russian bear to its
knees
so now let's go and show these...
and then maybe the swedes...-----barbarous and nauseating-----
i guess to fight Hitler one must become Hitler
you don't remember but i do...
a line from a stain'd song-- i can see through you
see the real you,
see your true colors
inside you're ugly,
ugly like me.
what would Ghandi be saying today? huh?
or better yet the prodigal son Himself? let me know...
to win a war against hatred we all must perish
c'mon admit it, you know hate's as essential as the air we breathe...
it's a miracle
we cower in our shelters
with our hands over our ears,
lloyd-weber's awful stuff
runs for years and years and years,,
an earthquake hits the theatre
but the operetta lingers
then the piano lid comes down
and breaks his fucking fingers,,
it's a miracle.....
evergreen-i'll be more than pleased if you publish
works that are genuine
insofar as they've never been done before
but the issue's that even in what's
original i find others words laced
insight would be helpful.