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Let's Turn the City to Ashes by Mauricio Morales

Let's Turn the City to Ashes by Mauricio Morales

A collection of writings by and for a fallen comrade.

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£4.44

In memory of Mauricio Morales

“The Hero of Life goes toward Death accompanied by the tragically triumphant march of dynamite and their head encircled with flowers. Yes, anyone who has desired and been able to live as Rebel and Hero wants the freedom to burn in a beautiful blaze ignited by the greatest sin so that the prelude to death is nothing but a sweet and melancholy poem…” - Renzo Novatore, “In the Circle of Life”, written in memory of his friend Bruno Filippi who died transporting an explosive device. From these lands of Mexico, we remember the compañero Mauricio Morales, who lived twenty-seven years of struggle and of Anarchy. He truly lived, because he lived free–outside of limits and imposed norms, mocking the bad joke society constructs, spitting at the prisons, at its bars and its arrogant laws. He lived more than anyone who lives one hundred so-called years, caged in mind and body, more than anyone who goes through life obeying. Life is not worth anything if one does not live free, if one only breathes, only in order to work and spend. Life is not life if one does not live it fighting, against domination, if one does not voluntarily accelerate the pace one’s heart pumps blood to one’s whole body, to one’s ideas. Life is not life if one lives with the dagger of liberation kept safe in the coffin of the commodity. One must take it out, use it, one must drive it one and a thousand times into the belly of power, looking it in the eyes, face to face, until it draws its final breath. A warrior who lives free, who lives Anarchy day by day and gives everything for the struggle, is not forgotten. He cannot be forgotten. We will not forget him. Death to the prison society and its guards! With memory as a weapon, Conspiración Ácrata Words from Conspiración Ácrata in memory of Mauricio Here follow the frontpage contributions that some imprisoned anarchist comrades wrote in memory of anarchist Mauricio Morales four years after his death, as he fell in action on 22nd May 2009 while he was preparing to attack a training school for prison guards in Santiago, Chile. The letters of Sergio, Alfredo and Nicola were written in Ferrara prison, Italy, at the invitation of the Chilean comrades of the blog Publicacion Refractario. The revolutionary tension which four years ago led Mauricio’s steps is clear and shared in our minds and hearts. As we remember our loss this memory exercise is also clear, it goes beyond all borders and highlights old and new individual and collective cartographies of revolt instead of falling into the swampy abyss of resignation. To End with the Cult of the Carrion Mauricio died four years ago as he was following the trajectory of struggle he had chosen without hesitation. At the flash of the explosion, which sadly struck him instead of the enemies it was meant for, followed the thunder that shook the spirit of us all, his brothers and sisters scattered all over the world and animated by his same desire of destruction of the existent. The joy you always feel when you find an affinity heart was weakened by the awareness that that heart would never again pump blood and anger. Mauri was not the first one who died because of his choice of never splitting thought from action, and sadly he was not the last one either. But I’m not sure that tears are the best way to remember him. In these years Mauri has not been left to rot in a grave, but he has continued to live and struggle in any action of attack, no matter whether or not the action was dedicated to him. As flames spread until there is fuel, so his joy can never be extinguished until we continue to strike the enemy, and actions are the oxygen that must feed the flames before too many words suffocate them, reduce them to dim light, extinguish them. Let’s not be reduced by the cult of the cadaver, let’s not bury the bodies of our brothers and sisters under metres of soil and let’s not make marble effigies with which to believe honours our comrades like their true flesh. Like Ravachol, let’s be violators of graves and let’s uncover the tombs so as to take daggers, detonators, guns and black powder back in our hands, and let’s have them strike the enemy again instead of letting them rust and grow musty in memory.

Sergio Maria Stefani

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