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What am I feeling tonight? I can’t place it. I have to freewrite and think. I love freewriting. I love to let my mind work through the keys. It makes me think of Spider-Man comics. Yes, I was a comic book geek. I loved Spider-Man comics. They always made me feel free. I imagined putting on that costume and swinging away from my life. When I was a child I wanted super powers so badly. I wanted to be able to fix things. My culture looked so fucked up to me. It still does, in a lot of ways. I mean, we destroy artists. That seems to be our thing.
Wait, there’s something: The United States of America: we destroy artists. It has a nice little ring to it. They should put that on a t-shirt, I think. Brought to you by an American publics school. My education pisses me off. Those mother fuckers tried to kill my creativity. It was always think this way and learn that way. I just wanted to look out the windows and think. I wanted to walk around and look at things. I was curious. I wanted to wander. Instead they locked me in a classroom with some middle age washout working the back up career. It was awful. They taught me nothing. I graduated high school and college. I did both with ease. And I am still an autodidact. For my public school brothers, that means I taught myself everything. Fuck American education. Just read everything. Especially the things you are told not to read. Read that shit twice. Take notes. Learn how to see who is fucking you over.
My freewritten manifesto. That tickles me. Rae once warned me not to write politically. Allen Ginsberg warned against it too. Politics kills poetry. Maybe. But I can’t keep quiet. Everywhere I go I see misery—sadness in peoples eyes, disappointment. Misery, I feel it. It frightens me. This can’t be the way things are. I must be misperceiving. Is the whole country really on the verge of weeping? Do you feel it, too, or is it just me?
S.O.S. My name is Tom Hardie. I live in NJ, USA. People’s spirits are dying all around me. You have to send help. Is there anyone left. We’re dying down here on the bottom. Can anyone hear us up there in their penthouse mansion apartments? The foundations collapsing. We’re all going to lose all of out shit! S.O.S. S.O.S. S.O.S. Send help, please. We’re eating each other! [dramatic effect] We’re dying. Fuck. I’m angry.
Freewrite manifesto over. The end.
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Hey, why the FUCK is the US Flag displayed Upside Down?
Man cannot long endure the hunger of the cannibal abstract
War is abstract
the world will be destroyed
Monument to Socco & Vanzetti not yet financed to ennoble Boston
Vachel Lindsay Secretary of Interior
Poe Secretary of Imagination
Pound Secty. Economics
and Kra belongs to Kra, and Pukti to Pukti
crossfertilization of Blok and Artaud
Van Gogh’s ear on the currency
no more propaganda for monsters
and poets should stay out of politics or become monsters
I have become monstrous with politics
the Russian poet undoubtedly monstrous in his secret notebook
Tibet should be left alone
these are obvious prophecies
America will be destroyed