Against the Generals by Cylon2036 We/Us
The cannon mistakes itself for the sun.
We reply with pockets full of popcorn.
The ministries polish their guns with bone dust
and call the hour necessary.
We release phantom birds into the gears.
Every feather strikes against the algorithmic empire.
Down with the architecture of obedience.
A flower has never recognized a frontier.
Rivers refuse visas, the moon salutes no flag.
Let us become worthy of such companions.
We declare a conspiracy of doors opening themselves,
of bread multiplying without permission,
of sleepers defending barricades
made from laughter and impossible archetypes.
No masters. No conquered.
Only the wilding spaces of ungoverned desire,
where every embrace is an insurrection
and every act of tenderness sabotages the engines of war.
The bugle sounds, a child answers with a song.
History won’t forget which voice endures.
(*Image credit: Napoleon in the Wilderness. Max Ernst 1941)
