Words for comrade Punki Mauri by anonymous
May 25, 2023
Anarchist history is not a sequence of simple and isolated acts, although many would like it to be; to speak of the adventurers, the crazy poets of history, the unwavering ones with heroic personalities, to fill the chronology of some novelistic book of those who hide behind academic titles or some cushy and comfortable desk. But our history could not be further from that – a multitude of sparks, of attempts without pretension or arrogance, voluntary impulses of determined individualities that await neither the conditions nor the moment, that unite freely or act alone always with the same ungovernable pulse.
Fourteen years have passed since that autumn charged with chaos, when one of our own left us in a May full of anarchic spirit. Punki Mauri some called him, Mauricio Morales Duarte was his name in the official records. That night changed the course of the winds for his immediate sfullurroundings, but it was also a call for the anarchic multiverse around the world.
Balancing a black memory with an active spirituality, without falling into those pseudo shamanic visions that are sold today as holy cards of new age saints, is a challenge from the deepest iconoclastic feeling.
Our position could not be farther away when the need to believe becomes an absurdity and ends up raising up figures as martyrs and heroes.
It is necessary, vital to burst their mausoleums of revolt and to recover our comrades. To continue dialoguing with them, with their feelings-thoughts-gestures-actions and other concerns that are part of all beings in their simple and complex existence.
To insist on this dialogue with the dead in this horizontal spirituality of mutual respect where we converge and disagree.
We refuse to forget because we value our loved ones without ever idealizing their existence, with successes and mistakes we embrace them because we are clear that their work was sincere.
Punki Mauri the offensive does not forget you and continues to insist on chaos and anarchy.
When a river of blood driven by a heart that beats like an erupting volcano runs through our veins, the feelings, the mind, the body, the spirit, are not extinguished even with death.
Let May be black as gunpowder and the whole rest of life as well. The biggest mistake is not to pay attention to your feelings, it is to live a self-repressed and regretful life.
Always with our own, fugitives, prisoners, disappeared, dead.
UNTIL WE DESTROY THE LAST BASTION OF PRISON SOCIETY!
BECAUSE WE ARE AT WAR!
BECAUSE WE ARE STILL AT WAR!!!
COMRADE PUNKI MAURI PRESENT NOW AND ALWAYS!!!
HE FOUGHT AGAINST THE STATE AND FOR ANARCHY!!!
Translated by Act for freedom now!