TO BOSSES OF EVERY HUE. HAPPY NEW FEAR....

TO BOSSES OF EVERY HUE. HAPPY NEW FEAR....
One fine morning, the faithful lackey, who has hitherto identified completely with his master, leaps on his oppressor and slits his throat. RV

Saturday 14 November 2009

Solidarity in the attack, for the destruction of every prison and the world that creates them.

That voice that shouts “insurrection”!
It’s our brothers, our children, our husbands,
Our companions, our comrades, our friends.
Those that only have violence
To break the wall of silence…


This text won’t be about the misery of prison, since all of us who risk it know that misery. It won’t be about the need to destroy prison; that need is evident to us, we feel it in each beating of our hearts. This text won’t be about the misery which is the survival here, on the outside of the prison walls, in this “free society” that is, in itself, an open air prison.
What we want today is to address ourselves to the rebellious prisoners, to those who crave and struggle for the air taken from them. What we want today is to say that, inside a prison, they can take everything from us, except the desire for freedom. Sometimes that desire is able to shout out so loud that it overcomes the silence of the walls: in all the Alcoentres, in all the Caxias, in all the Monsantos, in all the Coimbras, in all the Leirias and in all those that never reach the newspapers…
In the escapes, the hungerstrikes, the refusals to re-enter the cells, the refusals of prison food, the attacks on screws, the work strikes, the arsons, the destruction of prison material, the climbing on the rooftops, the mutinys, the fists, the screams.
In the screams that, for once, are born from a will that flows inside, a will to communicate with each other. In the screams that, for once, are born out of a revolt which only aims at breathing freely, without bars, nor screws, nor control nor walls! In the screams that, for once, aren’t born from the beatings, nor from the psychological or physical tortures, nor from the isolation from those and from what we love, nor from the shots fired by the GISP assassins, who kill as any other prison guard kills, as does any cop, any judge, any journalist, any politician.
These screams are yours, and are ours too. They’re from all of us who daily feel on our skins that authority is an enemy of freedom; they’re from all of us that have our lives controlled and stolen by people with power and institutions; they’re from all of us who want our lives back and decided to be ourselves fighting for them.

Solidarity in the attack, for the destruction of every prison and the world that creates them.
a few anarchists in Portugal

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