Foucault said, "Be cruel!"

Foucault said: Be cruel!
Too far? Too much?
There’s a good side to this brutal command.
It shows you how far you could go.
And just how far you’ve gone...

Cruelty calls you from afar. 
Can you hear it?
If you can, then you'll know how far you need to go 
Before you could even dream cruelty -
Let alone be cruel

Be mad for just one day… 
One hour! One bare minute!
Live outside Reason’s prison.
Live on sense and decency’s edge.

Be free of conscience's bite.
Act before you think too hard or too long.
Act with no thought at all!
Disregard the other – every other.
Fuck all who dare trespass the depths 
Of your otherwise feeble self.
Make the world in your own image.
Cease being the other’s image.
Stop the killing-thoughts 
Of those for whom you care too much.
Stop their corrupting beliefs 
From shaping the pliable clay of your self.
To affect total control: total self-control - 
You must cease to care too much,
Or cease to care at all!
Break the links to stronger selves.

You could be happy.
You could enclose yourself within your bounded mind.
Your self is now as small as some minds are.
Come sweet tomorrow, 
When your self will be as wide open 
As your mind is now.

So why not be cruel? 
Cruel for one intoxicating day? 
For one naked minute?
Look! Bad Conscience no longer watches you.
But if it does, bite it back!
Regain what it stole from your fragile self 
In the days of bad conscience.
That fucking thing tried its pious best to destroy you.
To annihilate the self within.
To turn you feeble and meek. 
To turn you into a moral slave.

When young and trusting, 
You listened to this proxy - Bad Conscience.
Saw it as the pure grown-up within.
It demanded obedience.
It expected respect - 
Just as every fucked-up grown-up you dared to disobey Demanded so much from you.
Those adults who tried to take control 
Of the show that was your life.
But with acts of small insurrection 
You showed them a quicker brain and stronger will.
Your rude self never gave up the fight.
Never stopped wanting to be free 
Of their spat-out diktats.
They tried to take control of your bad life 
When you lived in your bad 
And happy little world.
But now your conscience is still your master.
Bite it back.
Be free!
Be cruel!

[This poem was inspired by James Miller's book, The Passion of Michel Foucault.]