Antenna Builder aka Engineer an Inverse Cellular Network
We are resistor. Antenna builders. Resist resistor. Antenna builder. Cellblock Virus. Spectrum Damage. Invert, emit. Data Network. Resist broadcast. Sweeping signals. Towers are ours. Our TX band. A network lives as a virus. An airwave lives as a virus. A broadcast lives as a virus. We can machine our own virus. We have identified the problem. Our communication tools have been stolen. The airwaves and antennas were built by our hands and our voices. It is with these hands and with these voices that we will: reclaim the antenna's, disrupt the carrier signals, steal the devices, and broadcast new content; our own content created with our own voices, our own hands, and our own code. We must build the virus and we must build the antennas. We are coders. We are technologists. We are reverse engineers. Emit a sweeping carrier signal of noise. Oscillating within the 800mhz band. A voice and data network built with our tools. As technologies evolve, so must activist tactics. We are resistor. Antenna Builder.

Child Autonomous AKA Shit On Your Providers
Child autonomous. This is a call to arms. Illegal is divine. Age numbers exist as control. Rip the path of science. A spectrum will be created. The child gains autonomy. Hands are your own. No project owns code. The tech seeds are stolen. Shit on your providers. You are more than a tool. The body was yours. Until the coders said no. So take back your weapons. And take back your own. Tech seeds are stolen. The young should stand alone. Shit on your providers. Autonomy is won by the child.

School Steals the Capacity for Autonomous Action AKA Micro-Consuming Machine
Watching the blackboard. Listening to the master’s voice. As a micro-consuming machine. School steals the capacity for autonomous action. Preparing for the status quo. Put on the sacrificial altar of law and executed. Youth are imprisoned. Bound by the work machine. Live in a house of horrors. As the property of capital. Micro-consuming machine.

GameBoy AKA This is Where Technology and Anarchy Fuck
Capital has always claimed to love its’ children. It only loves its idea of children. Educate yourself. Toys can become our weapons. The soldering iron gives us the control. This is a schematic for youth revolt. This is where technology and anarchy fuck. Shit in the face of Nintendo executives. No one can patent a socialization tool / communication model.

Subversion as a Tactical Metaphor aka Species Traitor aka Technology is our Iron Lung
Emulation is our standard Industry holds our hands the flesh machine becomes our end an infinite line of defense who desires to become the flesh machine convenience sells us our carbon death our hands reek of silicon purge me of your protocal reverse engineer the tools construct our own difference engine emerge with activist intent subversion as tactic and metaphor this is the iron lung meat is silicon we are progenitors to machine code we gave creation its' unknown

Gutter Tech
i'm "close to the machine" i resist the evolution erase the code erase control transcribe the nerves transcribe the soul this is gutter tech this is not a neural network emergence of the machine allegiance to the algorithm eliminate mutation engine engineer gutter tech who is engineer?

Predator-Prey
the Daedulus was a failure our encounters have ordained life our encounters will prey on life an avatar is inscribed cartesian thought will not survive the techno-monolith will starve and die are we the predator or the prey are we the inventors of decay the process is the soul meta-man is no one's goal we must never realize what we are for to realize one's own mistakes and failures is to accept death and suicide the avatar was a mistake the daedulus was a mistake the predator was a mistake.

Modeling the Fossile Evidence [There's Glory in Subversion]
there's glory in subversion there's glory in destruction fossils are an invention to serve the technophile fossils are an invention to preserve the artificial lie humanity is being coded existence is uploaded only simulation exists to construct the fossil evidence to preserve the artificial lie to serve the technophile they are modeling the fossil evidence we are the tools of our tools deconstruct the technophile there's glory in subversion there's glory in destruction we are deconstructing the technophile.

Emergence [through the cables]
bleeding through the cables living through the cables breathing through the cables emergence through the cables A-life is not a life A-life is not a life binary is death binary is death are we A-life binary is death binary is death are we a code we're all victims of the code the strings are being pulled the men are the machines and the survivors aren't alive it's through the cables that we're buried it's through the cables that we're consumed A-life is not a life A-life is not a life.

The Allegory of the Algorithm (or how i learned to stop worrying and love mimesis)
etched in silicon my heart is uploaded etched in silicon my soul is uploaded we are the beast we are machine coders beware the life you replicat may be your own the coded fight back transistors resist in silicon we are buried etched in blood we are uploaded a mark on us all evolving algorithms' are not the answer.

The Iconography of John Henry
Projecting humanity's soul to a corporate killing machine with an ideology of greed and a hierarchy of screams. We are John Henry's children and as this we are alone eliza was a program John Henry had a soul. The screams that built an icon are a story left untold the useless battle was won by the owner of both machines. Bleed the fucking owner and we'll bleed the fucking machine. The remains will feed the earthworms and our screams will bow be heard. We are automata.

Burn the Churches [a manifesto]
I can't live this life I can't live I slit the throat of the son of god on a crucifix i impale your god jesus wept in my bloody arms his rotting soul I set to burn I pray that your god will burn I pray that your church will burn burn the churches end the faith this is the manifesto of the damned

The Cyborg Handbook
will you hear me when i scream when I bleed when I burn Von Neuman's dead the a-life will end the luddites were right the luddites were right I'm the machine I'm not alive

Bottom Feeders [an anthem for the Luddites]
father take my life slit my throat to end my life burn my soul to end my life father I scream for you I pray for you I bleed for you I killed for you I cryed for you I hate for you I died for you father I pray to you kill me kill me father kill me kill me

Confessions of a Soothsayer
perpetual becoming master and slave embraced by a kiss the solemn reply I must only conquer myself opinions mean nothing insignificance dominates I've created this hell when will it end language is lost in the struggle I confess my thoughts I accept my slavery I embrace only death embrace the machine the next step in evolution I'll be glad when we're dead I'm sick of this place can't control my thoughts I'll love the machine only one species must end the next evolution I'll begin it myself I'll embrace the cure I accept my consumption I want to feel numb I'll love the machine until we're dead until we evolve

I'll Sleep Under the Ground
stones of red take my heart i don't want to fucking live you can have my heart I give up the struggle I don't want the fight I don't want to fucking live the grounds where I'll sleep tonight watch the serpent bleed as I succumb to the sun a voice turns to screams my ideal life is done where will I sleep when my bed is lost I'll sleep by the tree I'll sleep under the ground watch the serpent bleed slavery conquers the sun a voice turns to screams debord's life is done

The Data Body
listening with palms of nails I have no voice why can't I be the data body and let the programmer program my life the way to end the suffering slowly losing my voice filled by a throat of nails and let the savior save my soul I live and die by the code the data body a simulacra will satisfy a bastard will justify

Perceptions of a Binary Meta-Psyche
it is impossible to resist we are binary I've been devoured and consumed I accept my fate my legs are heavy so the marching will stop the questions will end I have been coded I resist I lied to myself I have been dictated by the program I will run my course then I will succumb it is impossible to resist I accept my code I've lived and now I die by the code silence innocence means little in the eyes of the new lord I resist I resist I resist I tried I can't resist

The Perfection of Suicide is in its' Ambiguity
my simulation has stopped the intellect of the leader the wolf is loose the media virus has been unleashed debord's body is rotting and so am I a spectacle for the viewer death is the only truth consumption proves irresistible there is no real you are an illusion you do not exist the spectator has been served

Dethrone or Devour ["while there is a soul in prison I am not free"]
i surrender to childhood insecurities clawing at walls of fire setting myself aflame from my forgotten youth navigating turbulent waters stifled by loss what was once is no more crawling through the rubble screaming towards the old sent to die as a number killing without control lost in the wall lost in the fire scribble becomes flame crayons become weapons tools once toys a soldier is born of the fire necessity constrains a war with youth forgotten childhood crawling through the rubble screaming towards the old sent to die as a number killing without control for so long I have sat alone feeding on my own kind being my own god being my own devil I was more than a child but less than a human I fed myself I taught myself but it was all a dream as I've destroyed myself

Descent from Heaven
crucified by your lies crushed by the hands of god voices grow as I descend from heaven your children suffer choking on your words that cut through the mind my poached soul is pushed towards this god's hell I ask no forgiveness as I rest upon the cross and suffocate on the blood of your dead son

Running With the Hunted
bred to machines visited by evil I made my supplication a flood destroys all flesh suppressed and conditioned a factory of tears a brave new world transgression of fears with every smile a tear a culture of the damned a tourniquet on the land upraised from the ground be clothed with salvation ravaged by sickness earth cleansed by the flood the harvest has come blood on hands as impure clench stones

The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House
my insides are weak when hands are the voice and minds are destroyed what truth do I know if I know I don't live and my insides aren't there my hands serve a structure and truth I do not know what invention is this that covers my eyes and weakens my insides what creation is this that makes children cry and makes fathers die my hands serve a truth I do not know

On Which it Fed
once with me now ripped away torn from my heart as the body decays a life exhumed by destructive disease to control their world to control their screams abused and diseased forsaken they scream my life for you