Reflections on Truly Senseless Violence
Ah, memories; the reek of tear gas, the adrenaline rush of throwing beer bottles at the heads of riot cops with their armor and big orange sticks. Wading, then running through ankle deep broken glass past piles of burning furniture. Always the tear gas, everywhere - and that guy who would take his moccassin off and use it to pick up the hot tear gas canisters and throw them back into the lines of advancing police with their megaphones and clak-clak-clak marching forward, herding people like animals.
And the copper-sweet tang of blood scent when they drug a naked guy past; burnt, bruised, and bleeding from cuts he recieved from the sliding glass door the pigs shattered to get at him on his balcony - they could have just opened it - but, they had to break down three other doors to get at him, and I suppose the bloodlust was on them - everyone screaming obscenities as they tore the burning flag from his body, and pistol-whipped him into the glass crushed under their boots. The stinking press of bodies in the comandeered city bus, one among many busses lined up as roadblocks and mass cells; people pissing and puking all over themselves and each other, guarded by one cop with his service weapon holstered, but the strap conspicuously undone - talking about how he "loved this" becaue they were paying him double time to be here.
So, while people were being beaten and killed in the Townships of Sueto, and while the talk of the Nation of freedom was of divestiture in Apartheid states, well, this riot was brought to you by the clash of college kids, fighting for their right to party, and The Rule of Law, putting it down - Kalamazoo, MI, 1985.
Talk about senseless violence? Fuck that! Anyone who stood for human rights, who stood against the kind of tyranny that effected 85% of a downtrodden, uneducated population, and it got ugly - well, I salute THAT stand!
I marched for Divestiture, carrying a Mandela sign, playing my drum, and, on one occasion carrying a Coffin with "B I K O" written on it...
But, I know I could have done so much better.
And the copper-sweet tang of blood scent when they drug a naked guy past; burnt, bruised, and bleeding from cuts he recieved from the sliding glass door the pigs shattered to get at him on his balcony - they could have just opened it - but, they had to break down three other doors to get at him, and I suppose the bloodlust was on them - everyone screaming obscenities as they tore the burning flag from his body, and pistol-whipped him into the glass crushed under their boots. The stinking press of bodies in the comandeered city bus, one among many busses lined up as roadblocks and mass cells; people pissing and puking all over themselves and each other, guarded by one cop with his service weapon holstered, but the strap conspicuously undone - talking about how he "loved this" becaue they were paying him double time to be here.
So, while people were being beaten and killed in the Townships of Sueto, and while the talk of the Nation of freedom was of divestiture in Apartheid states, well, this riot was brought to you by the clash of college kids, fighting for their right to party, and The Rule of Law, putting it down - Kalamazoo, MI, 1985.
Talk about senseless violence? Fuck that! Anyone who stood for human rights, who stood against the kind of tyranny that effected 85% of a downtrodden, uneducated population, and it got ugly - well, I salute THAT stand!
I marched for Divestiture, carrying a Mandela sign, playing my drum, and, on one occasion carrying a Coffin with "B I K O" written on it...
But, I know I could have done so much better.
posted by b at 3:14 PM
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