Monday, February 28, 2011
Seattle cop murders deaf native woodcarver
Recently released footage from a police cruiser's dashboard camera shows the events leading up to the fatal shooting of a partially deaf man by a Seattle police officer.
John T. Williams, a Native American wood carver who was partially deaf, was killed on August 30th after walking past Officer Ian Birk, 27, on the street with a knife in his hand.
The dashboard camera footage shows Williams slowly crossing the street in front of Officer Birk's police cruiser. Birk then approached Williams and repeatedly told him to "put the knife down." Seconds later, Birk shot him four times.Friday, February 25, 2011
Bringing the Revolution Home-Leil-Zahra Mortada
" services cuts, unemployment, aggravated financial crisis, arms deals, nuclear energy, the plundering of every inch of the planet, the destruction of nature, the WTO, the IMF, the World Bank, border-police forces, immigration laws, racist governmental policies, deportations, genocides, colonial exploitation, imperialist control, economic and political hegemony, war, occupation, the so-called G8, multinationals, patents, forced labor, NATO, modern-day slavery, sweatshops, global warming, educational cuts, unjust housing prices, media hypocrisy and manipulation, censorship; Christian, Muslim and Jewish fundamentalisms; rigged elections, murderous foreign policies, slaughtering of indigenous peoples and their cultures, state-funded terrorism, state-funded lies and unfounded fear campaigns, sexist and homophobic laws and statements, brutal violence on all levels against non-whites, impunity, corruption… the list is endless. These are but a few adjectives that describe all of the governments today, not just Mubarak or Ben Ali, or Ahmadi Najad."
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
151
lovely sauce liquid
dancing soles
lonely
tossed down to the below
underground echo of
voiceless pipes
the gutter don’t flow
in the summer I go where the mud dries
to redden my eyes
ready my soul for oblivion
shred the self to tattered bits
leave the parts I don’t need in it
piles of shit
relics
from archaic monkey tribes
who’s greed halted evolution
they believed in an answer
like us
where there is none
no solution but the question ritual psychic
inquiry
one salutation to the sun we worship
the light because it
gives us life
and sight
matter in the dark plane devoid of inhabitants
the same gods can take this gift
swiftly as it takes to blind
the naïve we return to
divination searching for
what I never had anyways and
grieving my losses
oh lovely lost spirit
I so carelessly
left aside
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
Monday, February 14, 2011
Georgia Prisoners Organize Largest Prison Strike In U.S. History
“..ON MONDAY MORNING, WHEN THE DOORS OPEN, CLOSE THEM. DO NOT GO TO WORK. They cannot do anything to us that they haven’t already done at one time or another. Brothers, DON’T GIVE UP NOW. Make them come to the table. Be strong. DO NOT MAKE MONEY FOR THE STATE THAT THEY IN TURN USE TO KEEP US AS SLAVES….”This was the message sent out by one of the strike leaders on the fifth day of the largest prison strike in U.S. history. What started out on Dec. 9 as a coordinated strike in at least five of Georgia’s state prisons was originally intended to last only a day, but quickly evolved into a larger, longer struggle when prison officials locked down a number of the prisons. The strike was coordinated by a network of prisoners using cell phones that were smuggled into the prisons. If caught with a phone, a prisoner could face five more years in prison.
read more at infoshop the most important site for world news
http://news.infoshop.org/article.php?story=20110214194157933
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
nothing to hold
sound oscillations permanent metal air
conditioned mental hospital hair
observations on old folks
tired tantrum attacks
walkers in the snowy eyes
of grandchildren
one way mirror to a
clear eyed god
a law abiding citizen
turning inside out for the king
bending over sideways
as the instructor stretches her purple spandex
leading the man upstairs
down
via mechanical chair
large bosom
Philipino nurse
checking my temp
forcing down meds
feeding my head with her sweet lies
how I won’t die tomorrow
slowly everyday
each hour is pain
beyond relief I
sleep two hours a night because
I don’t believe in dreams anymore
they don’t visit me
much like my children and the rest of them
family ties are strong as
my eyesight
I know death is bliss thinking
too much
I remember how you
kissed in the dark
and now in the evanescent morphine body buzz
fleeting high of happiness
as I drift off
dizzy smelling disinfectant and scented candles somehow
there is no longer an I or me
or you
nothing to hold but the infinite
cold
space
that we truly are
Sunday, February 6, 2011
head massage
course hair
sand
golden grass pathways
I’m going to go through this
open field
and after the ground gives in
where the sea wins
bursting blue-white-birds
spraying waves
feathers
really timeless movements
ancient letters or
a code
I’m deciphering the
distance between us
running close to the edge of
crazy and dead in a dark place
facing her again above
black and silver schools
clouds of swimming
ghosts
leaves falling
men trimming giant’s
bushes
like a hedge
grind me like a garbage disposal
downing drano-booze
vomit
doom filling my head
the chamber rising over lungs
and city lights reflecting through
splitting cells
shit storms of nothing
raindrops end
under the microscope
evaporating
Friday, February 4, 2011
rusty old pipes
slipper piercing
goddamn these cheap things
worn down things
mimosa thorns and leaves
shells and shattered bits of Heineken bottles
Hawaiian emeralds
right on my own beach!
earth and sky kiss
with no building disruption
or phallic mountains
just grass and brush
stroking my ankles passionately as I float through them
usually it itches or bothers
but now they love me
and I can go on living
content
because a place can share such feelings
I was sharing my blood and voice
with her crashing cry
blue green and white to the mud
mixing
tiny bits of coral
biting at me
basalt seat imprinting on my skin
starting my
emergence into the wet
flowing force of her divinity
Thursday, February 3, 2011
ghosts
frightened by dust and echoes
paranoia settling beneath silky smooth
skin
these memory
foam impressions I had
just ideas that reoccurred
as apparitions on the edge of my eye
opening the head with a
pickaxe like tool
sometimes right through the socket
I tried to run away from them
but their smoke followed
as I exhaled white ghosts
flying with me past
lampposts
yellowing the blackness in this lighting age
sacrilege!
disfigurement!
disease! oh sickening thoughts!
life broken down
to her core
isn’t worth it to a dead man camera
angles falling
shaking at the gun
pointed downwards to him
images like this
flashing bulb
light house memories
warnings of steep tragedy and rocky
shallow reefer
ahh
I know
I’m getting ridiculously closer to
victory
but further from the trail
losing track of time
the path is
slipping away
till I cant find you anymore
and I’ve nothing to answer
or say to you anyways
sweet mirror
balled face
forgetting I’ll never be free of
you dear vibrating
echoing memory of this place
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Revolution in Egypt
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
unfolding-
electric bicycle
white chick running by I know
the bus is never coming
and the sun is still getting high
I’m so toasty
I’m bakin’
takin’ in my turn
my words are burning
forget them!
I feel ashed out like a cigarette
tapped on the boot like a pipe
lit all night in the dark
chocolate blackness of the moist air
sometimes dreams are not sweet but sour
sometimes I’m running from something
but I get this rush off the chase
the hunt or the game or whatever
you want it to be
I’m fighting for my life
or maybe fighting living it
feigning desire for freedom
but really killing my own by
risking everything for shallow independence
perhaps I’m just greedy and wicked
in pending vengeance for the defenseless
stripped naked child of an ego
refusing to let go of this sick urge
for black market cash
this whole scheme will lash back and
it needs to be changed
you know
I’ve aged
and realize now
a new face of crime is
beneficial
the creative nature
extracts the ancients mother
with my mixture comes a new scheme
or another world+