Communicate.

           Today the world is not a fragmented package of unconnected entities, we live in an age of easy cross planet communications. We know, or can know, what is going on in all other parts of the planet. There has never been a better time to come together to sort out the repressive and destructive mess that we find ourselves in today. The various states and large corporation use this ease of communications to hold on to their power to continue to exploit the earths resources and its people. We the people have the same ability to communicate and join up in one last uprising to bring an end to this insanity and exploitation by capitalist economics.
         Across the planet there are a whole series of uprisings against this authoritarian, repressive, destructive existence, we have the ability and the tools to join them all together and create that better world. Communicate, communicate, communicate, the world is ours by right of our sweat and blood, it's there for the taking. 

 

 I AM THE CROWD.

I am the crowd
I swim in the quagmire of poverty
its hooks, its barbs, tear my flesh
rupture my dreams,
I hold my breath for centuries
hoping to break through, gasp pure air.
Through the murky mire
I see bright things, shiny things, sparkle
I see women in fine dresses, men in silk shirts.
I ask myself,
why do I swim in this cesspool?
I want the light and warmth of rectitude
to caress my labouring body,
seeds of my dreams to bloom
like wild flowers in a meadow.
One day, I will use my boundless strength
to haul this torn, battered being
out of the morass
onto the warm grassy bank,
when I do;
woe betide you, women in fine dresses
woe betide you mister in your fine silk shirt
should you ever try to get in my way,
for I am the strength of the world,
I am the crowd.

The following from Act For Freedom Now:
Barcelona:

          These days arise from the need to contribute consciously to the actualisation of anarchism, encouraging debate, criticism and reflection concerning our ideas and practices in the times we are living.
Considering the situation in recent times (revolts in various parts of the planet, repression, increased social control, confinement, etc.) and being aware that just a small spark is necessary for the flame to spread, with this meeting we would like to contribute to continue expanding whatever confrontation with power. Constant reflection of our ideas can help us to find the way to give a response to the conditions of oppression imposed by the present system of domination. We are calling this meeting as one more small contribution. We want to continue generating meeting spaces, from our individuality and collective struggles, in permanent conflictuality against all the established, and continue to generate networks based on the tireless negation of whatever authority.
We await you!
via: anarquia.info

 FRIDAY 18

18H Talk: ‘Our proposal is conflict. An approach to black anarchy’ + ‘Anarchist experiences from an insurrectional perspective’

21h Vegan gazebo
SATURDAY 19

16.00 Presentation of the new edition of ‘Ai Ferri Corti’[At Daggers Drawn] + debate

18.30 Talk: The story of an intergenerational anarchist gathering in Uruguay: from armed struggle in 1970 to queer anarchism in 2021

21h Vegan gazebo
Distros all day
CSO L’ASTILLA
AV.VILAFRANCA, 22
<m> TORRASSA

——–
via: barcelona.indymedia.
Translated by Act for freedom now!

Visit ann arky's home at: https://spiritofrevolt.info    

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.

       March 21st. World Poetry Day. So write a poem, read a poem, recite a poem, talk about a poem, give a poem. Poetry can say so much, it can inspire, comfort, ridicule, bring people together, it is a bridge between the song and the conversation, a wonderful means of self expression. It's free.

     From the labyrinth of my old distorted mind:

I’m Proud

I’m proud of my people, proud to be one of them,

that great mass on society’s bottom rung.

Those who, with coal-dust under their nails

in their eyes, in their lungs

claw at the earth's entrails.

Their brothers,

cement in their hair

in their mouth, in their ears,

oil ingrained in their fingers,

on their face.

Sisters, glistening with sweat

midst the ceaseless noise of machines

that throw out shirts, shoes, toys, carpets

for other people.

Those with soil and sweat stuck to their skin

smelling of the earth, feeding the multitude,

grinding out their lives in a harsh pitiless system

weighted down

with a sack load of half-dead dreams,

sometimes brought to their knees

by a tidal wave of despair,

never defeated,

groping in the dark to find tomorrow,

keeping hope alive;

they amaze me.

Somehow, from somewhere

in this cold, cruel

unforgiving scheme of things

they find love for their children.

Not a teaspoonful, not a cupful,

but buckets full, to bathe them in,

to pour over them.

They seem to know

that one day this world will be ours

and to take care of it

we will need those who have been loved.

And from a master, a poem I have loved for most of my adult life.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk