US Indymedia Global Indymedia Publish About us
Printed from Boston IMC :
IVAW Winter Soldier

Winter Soldier
Brad Presente

Other Local News

Spare Change News
Open Media Boston
Somerville Voices
Cradle of Liberty
The Sword and Shield

Local Radio Shows

WMBR 88.1 FM
What's Left
WEDS at 8:00 pm
Local Edition
FRI (alt) at 5:30 pm

WMFO 91.5 FM
Socialist Alternative
SUN 11:00 am

WZBC 90.3 FM
Sounds of Dissent
SAT at 11:00 am
Truth and Justice Radio
SUN at 6:00 am

Create account Log in
Comment on this article | Email this article | Printer-friendly version
Hidden with code "Empty"
Review :: Environment
01 Oct 2008
Story By: Michael Lupa

In December 14, last 2003, some of the people here in this country took charge of a review about the 90’s scene and the Movement’s outlook were third world. They were graduating but late and friends were youth but boring.
People learned the ethics which was used for bar touring, speed was used to control morals and the police were attendant that their earnings would double because of the organizations that were guilty of illegal actions and prematurely numbs. Hardcore music still but new schools like of those of the Southern strength such as bands like: Aggressive Dog Attack, G.I. + the Idiots, and NSA. Boy Piodos of Laguna here touring the whole country, speeks about injustice. The man is talented as a good shepherd. Young people took some of the brotherhoods to fit hostilities with bitterpeace. Today, mafia in our country are vigorous, some plays cop – as Asians applying some prototypes from other countries. In January 2005, legions inquired to the deskmasters about cloning, Bagavad Gita as one of the sources and as a document proving past occurrences. Now, police recruits punks, teach them how to use guns or ammunitions then send them on their way.
Clones submitted to the authorities and reported self-interested concerns, filled up applications that would include them as recruits for exploitations. The country is a consign epoch that had the former foreign chimera, the imported portrait of an indignant convention from a past full of stapled recollections. That was then when spikes wore the scene of a puppetry, in an argument whether to push the button or not. Manila is at a conflict of wickedness and the whole country, distrust in the government by the rebels in Mindanao . The government itself is a body of wet bleak and it’s officials are all gays, instead of killing the worms they gathered hand in hand with candles and demi-god deities then pulled out tits and suck them like porno props. Some of the pomp’s recitalists proceeds to the voodoo moralist like German Moreno, solicit money like a pong wife but pretends as if remittances from the CEO’s comes to them like standard typical involvement as if a marriage contracts signed instead of a Warrant Of Arrest. Prostitutes as commemorated but call them “the higher class”. In offices are clerks that are not at all swanky, some are colonial but thrifty, formal in uniforms and having minimum wages. But this is Makati City , a place of ethical practices as if it is regarded to the skyscrapers. On the ground is the power of the city and from here to the top is a view of progressive civilization that is present, so overwhelming. The highway is art but rather traffic, lights at night and those headlights of cars are visions to those who take downers – a trip in Asia . When Manila was at a brink of dispute and at a time when it was taking it’s bet to growth is the time it’s people drew their slate down to the earth, voices beneath the ground are grinding ‘till those memories from hostilities don’t hunt the fresh spirits no more. Until faith learns to fly so as the gods resides in heaven and in this length we serve upon the absolute truth as we see forever in a cheesecurl. And so, the world is a dream under the sky so metropolitan and inner to the reality of this genre, 2008 and smart, surviving. One day I came out walking through a road-yard of Ipil trees, looked like a view from a postcard, flowery and foggy, dried leaves on the ground to the gate cornering the main road. The birds are poetic like flying wisdoms as it’s extracting charms sequences every minute of the day like a fresh rose on a laptop. A glass of clear water at the side. A day of perfect reflection as the sun above shines down to Lolita’s hair as she woke up early to catch the glow of it’s breezing haze, or a plastic balloon.

As days go by, the picture in the idea of what were meant by freedom are wilting like of those insights from the forefathers. Decaying memoirs of previous feudality from the regimes of the former oppressors that faced one of the most poetic struggle of all times. The lyricist, writers, activist, and those who strived for the interest of freedom and justice, same people who studs-on punk buttons from the 80’s and 90’s and that of those who were captured in journalism circle’s SLR’s in rallies, now also some are playing cops, exploited addicts blaming other people’s mistakes due to drug cases. Not like Arnold Morales of Urban Bandits, same guy from “Brave New World” and now in the limelight playing guitar with a new band. That hit in the face is now a skinhead slogan so as the rips are crunchy as the guy remains untouched, stronger than all. Similarly like a radicalist, Morales could have had his days as a civilized straightedge being but other than that he essentially acted to be one of those best original icons in the Philippines and famous as well in San Fransisco California. Another better example of underground politics but not prohibited is the views of Ollie Malolos from League Of Filipino Students. He would rather waste away than digest corrupt system. Ollie couldn’t succeed to having his grievances known to people but his theory of reform is rather referred to be a revolutionarian mayhem. For such in a doctrine of a hobo politician are linked to rebellion or commotion that rather intimidate even the most vile, fiendish enemy of the world. Malolos, a middle age rebellious artist who defies crooked thieves in the government won respects from the youth, a nephew of former President Marcos, who can only spit at the face of a police officer, and did it atleast once. And in this day, like the people that was mentioned, as a planning mutiny to destroy the wrong system with the rest of the defiance to smash the ruling enemy in the face. This is confrontation against the secret agencies who kills poor people in our country. The president remains pretentious while computer surveillances continue to monitor the innocent civillians and turn them into human transmitters. The government tagged the exploited individuals with HIV’s, AIDS and other diseases which are not true. Intelligence funds from ISAFP, PNP, CIDG and other bodies are corrupted, transferred to those high ranking official’s pockets. Making issues out of nothing, accusing small families of crime they didn’t commit especially those who studies in state universities and monitor them through PDEA, GSIS, PNP …etc., (according to sources). These culprits should pay the consequences of what they dissolved, they’re the ones who supplied drugs in Quiapo and other areas and even if they deny the fact that they uses computer to make mentally retardates through computer surveillances, the truth is here and it’s advocates are willing to lynch those who hacks their victims.

In this country, once occurred an invention from a genre of revolution which is not local and very much colonial. In a flash of instant pronto there was a guitar and it’s distortion declares bedlam which is striking to the guts. The Americans heard those form of music as well as the Europeans. Incensed youth from remote affairs and so as the army of grief and regrets disregards the bitterness of being alive then comes crust compilations or debut albums from divinity. The protest is not insurgent but skilled that it is paramount and superlative. Mohawks are passing through this streets and much of it, it is pleasant to the devil where sinners mistaken to kindreding the altered. Angels from the North are diligent while music dances it’s destruction to the hellish planet. Two hour past and I woke up in a small bench beside a ghetto knowing that it was all a dream and bottles of rum are empty. No Mohawks here, no angels, no nothing but hobos sleeping aside the road. I walk half kilometer from the counter and there is Lolita, sleepy and tired with his laptop in her daypack. It’s a directory of revulsive perplexity though in this day god tried to fix his head with the rest of the FTRA. It is late but healthy that at this spot the imps are weeping that rebellion was a lie and that the leftwings are tales of the liars, hideous panorama here but we had to go home fix some noodles for the Americans. So Havoc’s here, vegetarian. So the visions of the analysts on the immediate element called Anarcho is sturdy, wrapping the component of the contemporary society in an examination that is inquired everyday and everyone on it is intelligent enough to understand that it is peculiar. After the analysis of the masterals and the so called experts, grievances are overlooked and protest to those who didn’t listen. The authorities observed such dissent confronting Marx’s principles. The war on capitalism ended upon the collapse of the WTC as if every resistance, refusals won the struggle against greed and/or political abuses. It all started in 1986 and we were all punks.

This work is in the public domain