WE SIN, SMILE AND MOURN
HE – FATHER’S ONLY SON
BUT FOR US NEEDN’T COME
LIKE MAN ON EARTH SOJOURN
REJECTED, CROWNED WITH THORNS
SUFFERED, CRIED, DIED AND WON
FATHER’S LOVE FOR US THE SONS.
WE ALL ARE SINNERS
IN REMORSE LETS COME TO GOD
HE FORGETS ALL AND RENEWS OUR WORLD
YOU’RE WELCOME INTO THE WORLD OF WINNERS.

Emmanuel Nwodo is a Nigerian poet who writes in his native language and in English. He can be reached at st.manuel8@gmail.com

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WAR, MILITARISM AND THE PRISON-INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX

_____________________________________________________                                    I’ve been against this military occupation of Iraq before it began. I’ve always been strongly anti-state and anti-military, since my seniour year in high school. “President Bush had already committed troops to Afghanistan”, I thought, “And now he wants to start another war in the Middle East.”

        Before coming to San Francisco from Atlanta 5 years ago, I never went to any protests. The extent of my political activity was doing politically-charged spoken word at houseparties, coffeehouses, nightclubs and “open mike night” at bars. In January 2003, I went to my first street demonstration ever. It was in opposition to Bush’s plans [or rather, the Project for a New

Amerikkkan Century’s plans] to invade Iraq. Acquiring petrol and United $tates political/economic dominance were the reasons why the Bush-Cheney regime wanted another war and I was in the streets, with literally thousands of aggrieved folks, resisting it.

               Despite scores of anti-war demonstrations across the globe [including the February 16, 2003 2000-person breakaway march that led to my summary beatdown, arrest and week-long stay at San Francisco County Jail], Bush waged war anyway. The people’s voices were ignored. On the rainy afternoon of March 19, 2003, while playing houseless tourguide to 3 visiting Kansas University students for the Coalition On Homelessness, I attended a massive anti-war march.

We joined the march from a Food Not Bombs public serving under a blue coffeestand canopy in United Nations Plaza. Once the march stopped in front of 24th & Mission B.A.R.T.,  a pickup truck parked sideways in the middle of Mission Street, to serve as a makeshift stage. Three speakers each stood on the back of the pickup truck to deliver the same news to the public:

“BAGHDAD HAS BEEN BOMBED. THE WAR HAS BEGUN.”

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Dee may be reached at Pathogen@sanfranmail.com and lives in San Francisco. He enjoys speaking live and has performed at a variety of charity events, including a Food not Bombs benefit last March in the Mission District.

NON-ENEMY

The man who prays to the East

Is not my enemy.

Neither is the person

Who wears a cloth upon

Their head or face out of tradition.

Neither are those who arrive here

From arid desert lands.

The family that attends

Mosques and worship Muhammhad & Allah are

No more a threat to me than

The middle-aged shopkeeper whose

First language is Farsi.

The Palestinians & Afghans do not terrorise

My neighbourhood and the

Lebanese do not make the streets on my block

Unsafe to walk through at night.

The Egyptians do not occupy my home or any

Amerikkkan’s homes with their

Presence, uniforms, weapons & neo-colonialist law.

Critical thinking is under attack at

Higher learning institutions besides mine and

It’s not the Syrians who are kicking out

Instructors one by one.

The Iraqi people

Aren’t deserving of my detestation & rage.

One Fallujah*

Is not enough.

All of the Middle East’s progeny did not

Make war with me or grab the land beneath my feet

Or called the petrol within it theirs.

The Middle Easterners & Muslims did not

Stage outright bombings, shootings and jailhouse

Torture on me in my town.

But that’s what

The United $tates have done to them.

Again & again.

The real Fascism is homegrown.

W: 10.25.07

[In response to “Islamo-Fascist Awareness Week”.]

*A city in the Al-Anbar province of Iraq, where an anti-colonial rebellion took place against the U.$. military’s curfew over the area. On April 31, 2004, after U.$. troops opened fire on Iraqis at a closed-down school 3 days earlier[resulting in 17 dead and 70 wounded], Iraqi rebels fought back by attacking a convoy and dragging & burning 4 Amerikkkan military contractors from Blackwater.

2.

REDLINE [SONG-LYRICS]

Red line

Separates you

Where you stand

From another race of man

Red line

Separates you

From what is vital

To your own survival

High-risk

Environment

Scorned by the rest of the world

Abandonment

Separation

From one another

No line should hold you back [ from what’s needed ]

Just step over

W: 8.31.08

[Inspired by the music of Godflesh.]

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Mary Ann Lerch is a Northern California financial analyst who loves aerobics, faith and family, and probing the mysteries of human psychology through her writing. She may be reached at mary.lerch@gmail.com and seeks publication for her short stories, including this piece, which she co-wrote with Ned Mock.

A Chance Meeting – by Maryann Lerch and Ned Mock

Folding himself in the large first class seat Harry yelled, “Up, up and away. Flying is great, so fast and safe. Excuse my manners, I’m Harry Hopkins and you are.”

“Why did you hold on to the armrests and hold you breath on takeoff?”
No response. John picked up a magazine.

Finish the story here:

http://ladycatherina.livejournal.com/337611.html

Alma Desnuda is: Paul Suhr, Tony Glaser, Chris Bryden, Joe Glaser

www.almaDmusic.com
www.myspace.com/almadesnuda
www.sonicbids.com/almadesnuda

1.      What distinguishes you from other musicians…what do you feel makes your sound unique?

Tony:  

I think the biggest distinguishing factor of Alma Desnuda from other musicians is our connection to something bigger than amplified notes. Alma D is all about the music, don’t get me wrong, but it’s more than just sound. We use music to connect to what’s around us, like our friends, families, and community, as well as each other and especially this Earth. The music is our connection to that Alma, the soul; we just try to breathe into it.Our unique sound flows from our individual influences and styles into an eclectic harmony, which I think our upcoming album, Middleway, will show. It’s all Alma.

We get a lot of inspiration from the San Francisco Bay, our home, where icons of the Woodstock era, like the Grateful Dead, Simon & Garfunkel, CSNY, Santana, CCR, Sly Stone, and so many others came together and inspired generations to come.

(Chris) Song ideas strike anywhere and anytime. I let them emerge at their own pace. Sometimes it’s a lyric that comes, sometimes a melody, sometimes a riff. Each song is it’s own creation. My only job is to stay open and listen. Topically, I am drawn to write songs that weave the personal and universal together and that challenge the listener to wake up and see our lives through a larger perspective. Mothers are scolding children all over the world, people are falling in love every day, someone finds their life looking up while another loses a job.

Everything is in constant flux but operating under universal themes. The more I dive into my own experience and pay attention to others’ lives, the more I see that we are all working  with the same experiences and emotions. Writing about those experiences through a personal lens brings relevance to the songs and allows people to connect with universal existential issues through Alma Desnuda’s particular frame of reference.   

3.      Did/do you have a mentor with whom you worked to develop your music?

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The late protagonist of Claire Burch’s film Yume: Elegy for a Street Survivor’s chosen name comes from the Japanese word for ‘dream.’ In the same spirit, the entire piece conjures a dreamlike, imaginative feeling, more reminiscent of a coffeehouse open mic on a summer day than a traditional funeral service.

Starting with the atmospheric opening sequence, the movie shows us Yume’s life and times in Berkeley through the effects he has had on people young and old. Viewers learn of Yume through a series of actions and images narrated by background music. His friends burn a dollar bill, illustrating his gentle detachment from the material world, and pass around his last pack of cigarettes. At other times the music disappears and we watch officials and others interview those who knew the elderly Yume, who passed away in a hospital from respiratory distress.

Through filmmaking techniques such as tilting the camera for unusually angled shots, zooming in on small groups of people, and using offscreen voices to represent those outside of Yume’s normal social circle, the piece conveys a sense of how it can feel to live as part of a subculture. These people have their own chosen friends, family, and home, into which people from other walks of life (coroners, reporters, doctors, etc)  drift periodically for different reasons and who may or may not understand the lives and values of the city’s ‘street survivors.’

There is no one ‘narrator’ – groups of people tell the story piece by piece, laughing and thinking as they remember incidents from the life of this educated ‘Buddhist hippie’ who created art while sparing the lives of insects in his path. And it is this laughter and the diversity of personalities represented which prevents this piece from becoming melodramatic. The documentary is nostalgic and poignant, but finds space to celebrate life while acknowledging the loss of the protagonist and so remains a watchable human story rather than a polemic.  

This film came across with a spirit of gentleness and true tolerance – encouraging respect for the dignity of other living beings without being preachy. At a length of 45 minutes and expressed through normal language, Claire Burch’s Yume: Elegy for a Street Survivor is highly accessible, fun to watch, and recommended for all audiences.

Claire Burch’s website: http://www.claireburch.com/artmedia/about.html

Further film and contact information:

Elegy for a Street Survivor (Yume)

Color / sound / 45 minutes / ISBN 0-916147-82-7

This piece follows the strange memorial that takes place after Yume, a
homeless man who had been a “Buddhist hippie” dies of respiratory
distress. His friends gather to perform odd rituals such as passing out
his last pack of cigarettes, burning money in his honor, etc. As their
feelings and tributes are expressed, the little knot of street people
begins to take on the aspects of a Felliniesque procession. A
fascinating addition to annals of contemporary sociology as well as an
absorbing tale.