Below are the 15 most recent journal entries recorded in moishebear's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, December 16th, 2009
5:41 pm	Gah?
Friday, April 3rd, 2009
8:58 am	Now what?
Saturday, July 19th, 2008
2:23 am	Facta non verba!
Friday, November 23rd, 2007
6:09 pm	Et in terra pax.
Tuesday, July 31st, 2007
8:55 am	Manuelita vivía en Pehuajó pero un día se marcó. Nadie supo bien por qué a París ella se fue un poquito caminando y otro poquitito a pie. Manuelita, Manuelita, Manuelita dónde vas con tu traje de malaquita y tu paso tan audaz. Manuelita una vez se enamoró de un tortugo que pasó. Dijo: ¿Qué podré yo hacer? Vieja no me va a querer, en Europa y con paciencia me podrán embellecer. En la tintorería de Paris la pintaron con barniz. La plancharon en francés del derecho y del revés. Le pusieron peluquita y botines en los pies. Tantos años tardó en cruzar el mar que allí se volvió a arrugar y por eso regresó vieja como se marchó a buscar a su tortugo que la espera en Pehuajó.
Wednesday, May 9th, 2007
6:57 pm	Manuelita, Manuelita, Manuelita donde vas con tu traje de malaquita y tu paso tan audaz.
Thursday, November 30th, 2006
7:10 pm	'm being followed by a moon shadow moon shadow-moon shadow leaping and hopping on a moon shadow moon shadow-moon shadow and if I ever lose my hands lose my plough, lose my land oh, if I ever lose my hands oh, if... I won’t have to work no more and if I ever lose my eyes If my colours all run dry yes, if I ever lose my eyes oh if … I won't have to cry no more. yes, I'm being followed by a moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow leaping and hopping on a moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow and if I ever lose my legs I won't moan and I won't beg of (oh)* if I ever lose my legs oh if... I won't have to walk no more And if I ever lose my mouth all my teeth, north and south yes, if I ever lose my mouth oh if... I won't have to talk... Did it take long to find me I ask the faithful light Ooh did it take long to find me And are you going to stay the night I'm being followed by a moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow leaping and hopping on a moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow
Wednesday, September 13th, 2006
4:16 pm	Last night I had the strangest dream I'd ever dreamed before I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war I dreamed I saw a mighty room Filled with women and men And the paper they were signing said They'd never fight again And when the paper was all signed And a million copies made They all joined hands and bowed their heads And grateful pray'rs were prayed And the people in the streets below Were dancing 'round and 'round While swords and guns and uniforms Were scattered on the ground Last night I had the strangest dream I'd never dreamed before I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war.
Friday, April 14th, 2006
12:11 am	Look into my eyes And tell me what you see. You don't see a damn thing, 'cause you can't possibly relate to me. You're blinded by our differences. My life makes no sense to you. I'm the persecuted Palestinian. You're the American red, white and blue. Each day you wake in tranquility, No fears to cross your eyes. Each day I wake in gratitude, Thanking God He let me rise. You worry about your education And the bills you have to pay. I worry about my vulnerable life And if I'll survive another day. Your biggest fear is getting ticketed As you cruise your Cadillac. My fear is that the tank that just left Will turn around and come back. American, do you realize, That the taxes that you pay Feed the forces that traumatize My every living day? The bulldozers and the tanks, The gases and the guns, The bombs that fall outside my door, All due to American funds. Yet do you know the truth Of where your money goes? Do you let your media deceive your mind? Is this a truth that no one knows? You blame me for defending myself Against the ways of Zionists. I'm terrorized in my own land And I'm the terrorist? You think you know all about terrorism But you don't know it the way I do, So let me define the term for you, And teach you what you thought you knew. I've known terrorism for quite some time, Fifty-five years and more. It's the fruitless garden uprooted in my yard. It's the bulldozer in front of my door. Terrorism breathes the air I breathe. It's the checkpoint on my way to school. It's the curfew that jails me in my own home, And the penalties of breaking that curfew rule. Terrorism is the robbery of my land, And the torture of my mother, The imprisonment of my innocent father, The bullet in my baby brother. So American, don't tell me you know about The things I feel and see. I'm terrorized in my own land And the blame is put on me. But I will not rest, I shall never settle For the injustice my people endure. Palestine is our land and there we'll remain Until the day our homeland is secure. And if that time shall never come, Then we will never see a day of peace. I will not be thrown from my own home, Nor will my fight for justice cease. And if I am killed, it will be in Falasteen. It's written on my every breath. So in your own patriotic words, Give me liberty or give me death.
Monday, January 30th, 2006
9:23 pm	I would like to talk on behalf of all those veterans and say that several months ago in Detroit we had an investigation at which over 150 honorably discharged, and many very highly decorated, veterans testified to war crimes committed in Southeast Asia. These were not isolated incidents but crimes committed on a day-to-day basis with the full awareness of officers at all levels of command. It is impossible to describe to you exactly what did happen in Detroit - the emotions in the room and the feelings of the men who were reliving their experiences in Vietnam. They relived the absolute horror of what this country, in a sense, made them do. They told stories that at times they had personally raped, cut off ears, cut off heads, taped wires from portable telephones to human genitals and turned up the power, cut off limbs, blown up bodies, randomly shot at civilians, razed villages in fashion reminiscent of Ghengis Khan, shot cattle and dogs for fun, poisoned food stocks, and generally ravaged the countryside of South Vietnam in addition to the normal ravage of war and the normal and very particular ravaging which is done by the applied bombing power of this country. We call this investigation the Winter Soldier Investigation. The term Winter Soldier is a play on words of Thomas Paine's in 1776 when he spoke of the Sunshine Patriots and summertime soldiers who deserted at Valley Forge because the going was rough. We who have come here to Washington have come here because we feel we have to be winter soldiers now. We could come back to this country, we could be quiet, we could hold our silence, we could not tell what went on in Vietnam, but we feel because of what threatens this country, not the reds, but the crimes which we are committing that threaten it, that we have to speak out.... In our opinion and from our experience, there is nothing in South Vietnam which could happen that realistically threatens the United States of America. And to attempt to justify the loss of one American life in Vietnam, Cambodia or Laos by linking such loss to the preservation of freedom, which those misfits supposedly abuse, is to us the height of criminal hypocrisy, and it is that kind of hypocrisy which we feel has torn this country apart. We found that not only was it a civil war, an effort by a people who had for years been seeking their liberation from any colonial influence whatsoever, but also we found that the Vietnamese whom we had enthusiastically molded after our own image were hard put to take up the fight against the threat we were supposedly saving them from. We found most people didn't even know the difference between communism and democracy. They only wanted to work in rice paddies without helicopters strafing them and bombs with napalm burning their villages and tearing their country apart. They wanted everything to do with the war, particularly with this foreign presence of the United States of America, to leave them alone in peace, and they practiced the art of survival by siding with whichever military force was present at a particular time, be it Viet Cong, North Vietnamese or American. We found also that all too often American men were dying in those rice paddies for want of support from their allies. We saw first hand how monies from American taxes were used for a corrupt dictatorial regime. We saw that many people in this country had a one-sided idea of who was kept free by the flag, and blacks provided the highest percentage of casualties. We saw Vietnam ravaged equally by American bombs and search and destroy missions, as well as by Viet Cong terrorism - and yet we listened while this country tried to blame all of the havoc on the Viet Cong. We rationalized destroying villages in order to save them. We saw America lose her sense of morality as she accepted very coolly a My Lai and refused to give up the image of American soldiers who hand out chocolate bars and chewing gum. We learned the meaning of free fire zones, shooting anything that moves, and we watched while America placed a cheapness on the lives of orientals. We watched the United States falsification of body counts, in fact the glorification of body counts. We listened while month after month we were told the back of the enemy was about to break. We fought using weapons against "oriental human beings." We fought using weapons against those people which I do not believe this country would dream of using were we fighting in the European theater. We watched while men charged up hills because a general said that hill has to be taken, and after losing one platoon or two platoons they marched away to leave the hill for reoccupation by the North Vietnamese. We watched pride allow the most unimportant battles to be blown into extravaganzas, because we couldn't lose, and we couldn't retreat, and because it didn't matter how many American bodies were lost to prove that point, and so there were Hamburger Hills and Khe Sanhs and Hill 81s and Fire Base 6s, and so many others. Now we are told that the men who fought there must watch quietly while American lives are lost so that we can exercise the incredible arrogance of Vietnamizing the Vietnamese. Each day to facilitate the process by which the United States washes her hands of Vietnam someone has to give up his life so that the United States doesn't have to admit something that the entire world already knows, so that we can't say that we have made a mistake. Someone has to die so that President Nixon won't be, and these are his words, "the first President to lose a war." We are asking Americans to think about that because how do you ask a man to be the last man to die in Vietnam? How do you ask a man to be the last man to die for a mistake?....We are here in Washington to say that the problem of this war is not just a question of war and diplomacy. It is part and parcel of everything that we are trying as human beings to communicate to people in this country - the question of racism which is rampant in the military, and so many other questions such as the use of weapons; the hypocrisy in our taking umbrage at the Geneva Conventions and using that as justification for a continuation of this war when we are more guilty than any other body of violations of those Geneva Conventions; in the use of free fire zones, harassment interdiction fire, search and destroy missions, the bombings, the torture of prisoners, all accepted policy by many units in South Vietnam. That is what we are trying to say. It is part and parcel of everything. An American Indian friend of mine who lives in the Indian Nation of Alcatraz put it to me very succinctly. He told me how as a boy on an Indian reservation he had watched television and he used to cheer the cowboys when they came in and shot the Indians, and then suddenly one day he stopped in Vietnam and he said, "my God, I am doing to these people the very same thing that was done to my people," and he stopped. And that is what we are trying to say, that we think this thing has to end. We are here to ask, and we are here to ask vehemently, where are the leaders of our country? Where is the leadership? We're here to ask where are McNamara, Rostow, Bundy, Gilpatrick, and so many others? Where are they now that we, the men they sent off to war, have returned? These are the commanders who have deserted their troops. And there is no more serious crime in the laws of war. The Army says they never leave their wounded. The marines say they never even leave their dead. These men have left all the casualties and retreated behind a pious shield of public rectitude. They've left the real stuff of their reputations bleaching behind them in the sun in this country.... We wish that a merciful God could wipe away our own memories of that service as easily as this administration has wiped away their memories of us. But all that they have done and all that they can do by this denial is to make more clear than ever our own determination to undertake one last mission - to search out and destroy the last vestige of this barbaric war, to pacify our own hearts, to conquer the hate and fear that have driven this country these last ten years and more. And more. And so when thirty years from now our brothers go down the street without a leg, without an arm, or a face, and small boys ask why, we will be able to say "Vietnam" and not mean a desert, not a filthy obscene memory, but mean instead where America finally turned and where soldiers like us helped it in the turning.
Saturday, December 3rd, 2005
2:07 am	Text of speech by the President of Venezuela Inspiration. Ignacio Ramonet, in his introduction, mentioned that I am a new kind of leader. I accept this, especially coming from a bright mind such as Ignacio’s, but I am inspired by many old leaders. Some very old like for example Jesus Christ, one of the greatest revolutionaries, anti-imperialists fighters in the history of the world, the true Christ, the Redemptor of the Poor. …Simon Bolivar, a guy that crisscrossed these lands, filling people with hope, and helping them become liberated. Or that Argentine doctor, who crisscrossed our continent on a motorcycle, arriving in Central America to witness the gringo invasion of Guatemala in 1955, one of so many abuses that North American Imperialism perpetrated on this continent. Or that old guy with a beard, Fidel Castro… Abreu Lima, Artigas, San Martin, O’Higgins, Emiliano Zapata, Pancho Villa, Sandino, Morazan, Tupac Amaru, from all those old guys one draws inspiration. Old guys that took up a commitment and now, from my heart, I understand them, because we have taken up a strong commitment. They have all returned. Today we are millions. One of these old guys, he was being ripped into pieces, pulled by horses from each arm and leg – Empires have always been brutal, there are no good or bad Empires, they are all aberrant, brutal, perverse, no matter what they wear or how they speak. When he felt he was about to die, he shouted “I die today but some day I’ll return and I’ll be millions”. Atahualpa has returned and he is millions, Tupac Amaru has returned and he is millions, Bolivar has returned and he is millions, Sucre, Zapata, and here we are, they have returned with us. In this filled up Gigantinho Stadium. About the WSF As I said two years ago here in Porto Alegre, in the third WSF, the World Social Forum is the most important political event in the world. We have come to learn and to grasp knowledge, to soak ourselves in the passion that abounds here. We keep searching, because as every test run, the Venezuelan process needs to be monitored and improved; it is an experiment open to all the wonderful experiences happening in the world. The World Social Forum, in these five years, has become a solid platform for debate, discussions, a solid, wide, varied, rich platform where the greater part of the excluded, those without a voice in the corridors of power, come here to express themselves and to raise their protests, here they come to sing, to say who they are, what they want, they come to recite their poems, their songs, their hope of finding consensus. One more militant. I don’t feel like a President, being President is a mere circumstance. I’m fulfilling a role as many fulfill a role in any team. I’m only fulfilling a role, but I’m a peasant, I’m a soldier, I’m a man committed to this project of an alternative world which is better and possible, necessary to save the Earth. I am one more militant of the revolutionary cause. Friends and Enemies. I have been a Maoist since I entered military school, I read Che Guevara, I read Bolivar and his speeches and letters, becoming a Bolivarian Maoist, a mixture of all that. Mao says that it is imperative, for every revolutionary, to determine very clearly who are your friends and who are your enemies. In Latin America this is particularly important. Path of revolution /The conscience of the south I’m convinced that only through the path of revolution we will be able to come out of this historical conundrum in which we have been stuck for many centuries. The South, according to Mario Benedetti (the Uruguayan Writer) also exists. There are many revolutionaries in North America and in Europe, but although I could be wrong, I think that the South is where there is a greater conscience about the need for urgent, rapid and profound change in the World. In 1950 we had the Summit at Bandung, where the movement of non-aligned countries was born, giving birth to the concept of the conscience of the South. But then, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, the fall of the Berlin Wall, as Stiglitz says the “happy 90’s” were upon us, we were all apparently so happy, the end of history, the technological age, and so the conscience of the south was frozen, and, as an avalanche, the proposal from the Washington consensus arrived, neocolonialism, dressed around a dubious thesis, neoliberalism, and all those IMF policies injected with particular venom in Latin America. Today, at the WSF, no other space more appropriate, it is opportune to say that to save the world one of the first things we need is the conscience of the south. Re-launch the conscience of the south…it is possible that many in the north don’t know this, but the future of the north depends on the south, because if we do not do what we must, if we truly do not make a better world real, if we fail, behind the marines’ bayonets, behind the murderous bombs from Mr. Bush, if there is not enough strength, conscience, and organization in the south to resist the neo-imperialist attacks, if the Bush doctrine were to impose itself the world would be destroyed. Even before the polar caps melt and entire countries became submerged under the waters, the planet would see hundreds of violent rebellions. People are not going to take peacefully the imposition of the neo-liberal model, preferring to die fighting than of hunger. The whip of counter-revolution. Trotsky said that every revolution needs the whip of a counterrevolution, and the counterrevolution whipped us hard, with economic, media and social sabotage, terrorism, bombs, violence, blood and death, coup d’etat, institutional manipulation, international pressure, they tried to convert Venezuela into a subservient country, trying to install a transnational power above our laws, our institutions and our constitution. But the Venezuelan people demonstrated to the oligarchy that they will never surrender. We resisted, we defended ourselves, and then went on the counteroffensive. As a result in 2003, for the first time, Venezuela recuperated its oil company, which had always been in the hands of the Venezuelan oligarchy and the North American Empire. We were now directing almost 4 billion dollars to social investment, education, health, micro credits, housing, directed to the poorest. The neo-liberals say we are throwing money away… but they were giving it away to the gringos, or shared it amongst themselves in their juicy business deals. We have called everybody to study, grandmothers, children, many of them living in misery, so we created a system to give half a million grants of 100 dollars each per month. Almost 600 million per year that before was stolen from us and now is redistributed to empower the poor so they can defeat their own poverty. Today we also have the Missions, for example Barrio Adentro. It is a national crusade involving everybody , civilians, military, old, young, communities, the national and local governments, grassroots community organizations, helped by Revolutionary Cuba. Today there are almost 25 thousand Cuban doctors and dentists living among the poorest, plus Venezuelan male and female nurses. 50 million cases were seen during 2004 – that’s double the Venezuelan population. Before, the money to pay for all this left the country. Capitalism is savagery. Before, education was privatized. That’s the neo-liberal, imperialist plan, health systems were privatized, that cannot be, it’s a fundamental human right. Health, education, water, energy, public services, that cannot be given to the voracity of private capital, that denies those rights to the people, that’s the road to savagery, capitalism is savagery. Every day I’m more convinced, less capitalism and more socialism. We need to transcend capitalism, but capitalism cannot be transcended from within. Capitalism needs to be transcended via socialism, with equality and justice, that’s the path to transcend the capitalist power. I’m also convinced that it’s possible to do it in democracy…but watch it, what type of democracy…not the one Mr. Superman wants to impose. Tactics. Although I admire Che Guevara very much, his thesis was not viable. His guerrilla unit, perhaps 100 men in a mountain, that may have been valid in Cuba, but the conditions elsewhere were different, and that’s why Che died in Bolivia, a Quixotic figure. History showed that his thesis of one, two, three Vietnams did not work. Today, the situation does not involve guerrilla cells, that can be surrounded by the Rangers or the Marines in a mountain, as they did to Che Guevara, they were only maybe 50 men against 500, now we are millions, how are they going to surround us… Careful, we might be the ones doing the surrounding... …not yet, little by little. Empires sometimes do not get surrounded, they rot from inside, and then they tumble down and get destroyed as the Roman Empire and every Empire from Europe in the past centuries. Some day the rottenness that it carries inside will end up destroying the US Empire. And the great people of Martin Luther King will be free, the great U.S. people, our brothers. We are not yet declaring victory, but reality shows that the process is ongoing, although we have to nurture it every day. That’s one of my sermons to my compañeros and compañeras every day. And as Che said, we need revolutionary efficacy, fighting bureaucratism and corruption. Referendum. 2004 brought us the great political victory. It was said that I was doing everything possible to avoid the referendum. The neo-liberals said I was afraid of the people. All lies. I never did anything to avoid it. But the opposition had to abide by the constitutional requisites, collecting their signatures within the allotted time, as our institutions mandate. It could not be the OAS or the U.S. Government presenting the signatures with witnesses. We won on August 15 with 60% of the vote, much more than five years ago. Then, in the regional elections of 10-31 we won in most of the 24 provinces up for grabs, a great advance in the social inclusion model. An advance in the political stage, a strengthening of our institutions, the judicial power. Economy and Integration. In 2003 and 2004, we saw the strengthening of the Venezuelan economy. Manufacturing, agriculture are all growing. For the first time in a long time we can say that we don’t have to import rice, we are self sufficient in corn, and we will continue to rescue our agriculture, helping us attain food sovereignty. In the war against the latifundios, we recognize the example of the MST. They have been an example to us and to the rest of the peasants all over the continent. In 2004 we entered Mercosur (South American Common Market). I am critical of its profile, but still we decided to join. Five years ago I was criticized for being in Canada in the Americas Summit. But I was the only one there opposing the FTAA, because it is nothing but a colonialist project. We want to create an alternative integrationist model, which we call Bolivarian alternative or ALBA. This project progresses, one would want it to be faster, but there are realities and moments, timing. The sun rose on January 1st, 2005 and the FTAA has gone to hell. Where is the FTAA, Mr.? The FTAA is dead. There are little FTAAs, but the North American Empire did not have the strength, in spite of so much pressure and blackmail, to impose on this continent the imperialist and neocolonial model that the FTAA represented. I do not want to overestimate the weakness of our adversary. It would be a fatal error. But nevertheless I think it is convenient to objectively recognize its weaknesses. Because if one believes that the adversary is unbeatable, well, it is unbeatable. History has Vietnam, the Iraqi people resisting the attack and invasion, Revolutionary Cuba forty years later still resisting. Bolivarian Venezuela resisting for already 6 years. North American Imperialism is not invincible. Of course it is important to know that, because there are people around with good intentions who think that it is invincible and we cannot even hit it with rose petals, the Empire can get angry and react. Goliath is not invincible. That makes it more dangerous, because as it begins to be aware of its weaknesses, it begins to resort to brute force. The assault on Venezuela, utilizing brute force, is a sign of weakness, ideological weakness. This is not the same Latin America of even five years ago. I cannot, out of respect for you, comment on the internal situation of any other country. There in Venezuela, particularly the first two years, many of my partisans criticized me, asking me to go faster, that we had to be more radical. I did not consider it to be the right moment, because processes have stages. Compañeros, there are stages in the processes, there are rhythms that have to do with more than just the internal situation in every country, they have to do with the International situation. And even if some of you make noise, I will say it: I like Lula, I appreciate him, he is a good man, with a big heart, a brother, a compañero, and I’m sure that Lula and the people of Brazil, with Nestor Kirchner and the Argentine people, with Tabarez Vazquez and the Uruguayan people, we will open the path towards the dream of a United Latin America, different, possible. A big hug, I love you all very much, a big hug to everybody, Many, many thanks.
Sunday, November 27th, 2005
8:36 pm	HAD we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime We would sit down and think which way To walk and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, Lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate. But at my back I always hear Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song: then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust: The grave 's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapt power. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Saturday, November 19th, 2005
12:26 am	'Jabberwocky' By Lewis Carol: `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought -- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy. `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
Thursday, November 17th, 2005
3:26 pm	Since I can't imagine why anything in my life would be of interest to the outside world, I'm going to use this LJ to keep track of literary scraps (quotes, poems, songs, ect.) that I don't want to forget. Today: 'Leah Sublime' by Aleister Crowley. Leah Sublime, Goddess above me! Snake of the slime Alostrael, love me! Our master, the devil Prospers the revel. Tread with your foot My heart til it hurt! Tread on it, put The smear of your dirt On my love, on my shame Scribble your name! Straddle your Beast My Masterful Bitch With the thighs of you greased With the Sweat of your Itch! Spit on me, scarlet Mouth of my harlot! Now from your wide Raw cunt, the abyss, Spend spouting the tide Of your sizzling piss In my mouth; oh my Whore Let it pour, let it pour! You stale like a mare And fart as you stale; Through straggled wet hair You spout like a whale. Splash the manure And piss from the sewer. Down to me quick With your tooth on my lip And your hand on my prick With feverish grip My life as it drinks— How your breath stinks! Your hand, oh unclean Your hand that has wasted Your love, in obscene Black masses, that tasted Your soul, it’s your hand! Feel my prick stand! Your life times from lewd Little girl, to mature Worn whore that has chewed Your own pile of manure. Your hand was the key to— And now your frig me, too! Rub all the much Of your cunt on me, Leah Cunt, let me suck All your glued gonorrhea! Cunt without end! Amen! til you spend! Cunt! you have harboured All dirt and disease In your slimy unbarbered Loose hole, with its cheese And its monthlies, and pox You chewer of cocks! Cunt, you have sucked Up pricks, you squirted Out foetuses, fucked Til bastards you blurted Out into space— Spend on my face! Rub all your gleet away! Envenom the arrow. May your pox eat away Me to the marrow. Cunt you have got me; I love you to rot me! Spend again, lash me! Leah, one spasm Scream to splash me. Slime of the chasm Choke me with spilth Of your sow-belly’s filth. Stab your demonical Smile to my brain! Soak me in cognac Cunt and cocaine; Sprawl on me! Sit On my mouth, Leah, shit! Shit on me, slut! Creamy the curds That drip from your gut! Greasy the turds! Dribble your dung On the tip of my tongue! Churn on me, Leah! Twist on your thighs! Smear diarrhoea Into my eyes! Splutter out shit From the bottemless pit. Turn to me, chew it With me, Leah, whore! Vomit it, spew it And lick it once more. We can make lust Drunk on disgust. Splay out your gut, Your ass hole, my lover! You buggering slut, I know where to shove her! There she goes, plumb Up the foul Bitch’s bum! Sackful of skin And bone, as I speak I’ll bugger your grin Into a shriek. Bugger you, slut Bugger your gut! Wriggle, you hog! Wrench at the pin! Wrench at it, drag It half out, suck it in! Scream, you hog dirt, you! I want it to hurt you! Beast-Lioness, squirt From your Cocksucker’s hole! Belch out the dirt From your Syphillis soul. Splutter foul words Through your supper of turds! May the Devil our lord, your Soul scribble over With sayings of ordure! Call me your lover! Slave of the gut Of the arse of a slut! Call me your sewer Of spilth and snot Your fart-sniffer, chewer Of the shit in your slot. Call me that as you rave In the rape of your slave. Fuck! Shit! Let me come Alostrael—Fuck! I’ve spent in your bum. Shit! Give me the muck From my whore’s arse, slick Dirt of my prick! Eat it, you sow! I’m your dog, fuck, shit! Swallow it now! Rest for a bit! Satan, you gave A crown to a slave. I am your fate, on Your belly, above you. I swear it by Satan Leah, I love you. I’m going insane Do it again!
Wednesday, November 16th, 2005
12:28 am	I am Moishe. That is all. Current Mood: Jewish Current Music: Klezmer (duh)