current events
It Sounded Like Popcorn
It Sounded Like Popcorn
By JFarrell
It sounded like popcorn
Was my first thought
A lot of popcorn
At one in the morning
Opening the bedroom door
And turning on the light
To find myself blind
As a wall of thick, black smoke engulfed me
Going to my balcony
And looking over the edge
To see bright, angry orange flames
Licking at the walls below me
Grabbed coat, 2 bottles of water
And a towel
Knocked door to door
Warning the neighbours
Went back to do the other side
But opening the door to that area
The smoke was too thick
And I retreated
Ours was not a serious fire, thankfully
And was quickly ended
I cannot even begin to comprehend the events and loss
In the West London fire
My deepest sympathies and prayers are with you
As I’m sure are the prayers of many others
And, again, I’d like to thank the emergency services
And all those who helped
Love does matter and can heal us all
"The Lord is Your Shepherd, You Shall Not Want. Stop, Enjoy"
by Jeph Johnson (inspired by an anonymous meme and a line from an even less important book)
You are not yet hungry. You need not want.
Stop, enjoy.
But when we were hungry, you fed us lies and stole away our food benefits.
When we were thirsty, you gave us overflowing founts of poisoned water.
When we were sick, you canceled our health insurance and sequestered the focus of our doctors to vanity.
When we were in prison, you kept us enslaved without hope of rehabilitation, to for-profit corporate greed.
When we were strangers with a different color of skin you laughed at our expense, deported us or simply shot us when we protested your intolerance.
When we were lonely you took away our social programs, furthering your agenda of isolation.
Not all of us want to live in a tower locked away from the rest of the world.
But you...
Stop, enjoy.
From our elders you took away meals, medicine and social security.
From our workers, you took away legal protections, bargaining rights and refused to offer living wages.
When we went forth and multiplied, you took away funding for educating our future.
Stop, enjoy.
When we were bored you entertained us with strategically manipulative propaganda disguised as reality.
We asked for diversity, you promoted intolerance.
We hoped for caring, you encouraged isolationism.
We begged for equity, you squandered our resources on corporate and military excess.
We just wanted to breath, so you removed the filters from the smokestacks and coughed out more smog.
Those of us with physical and developmental challenges you mocked and ridiculed as fat and retarded.
While those of us with mental illness wander the streets cursing the world, building makeshift beds with cardboard boxes, wrapping our fragile bodies in shrouds of bubble wrap in downtown doorways.
Those who trample are responsible for the downtrodden.
Your health and wealth is at our ill expense.
Stop, enjoy.
When we were naked, you raped us, then blamed us because we were provocatively undressed.
Victimized, rather than offering refuge, we became your refuse; no shelter or hope for protection.
"Go back to him,"
you promised,
"He'll change."
After you systematically destroy us individually using each of these calculated methods, no beauty will be left in the world.
Stop, enjoy.
When gluttons engorge on an entire generation without hope of regeneration, those who you consume perish and only excrement remains.
Are you hungry yet?
Stop, enjoy.
Yo Bitches, I Am Trayvon
Yo bitches, I am Trayvon--
Ranting and raving
Like Jackson and Sharpton
From dawn until night.
Yo bitches, I am Trayvon--
A brand and a label, a cause
To uphold at some rich folks’ table
Like Joseph Kony and the black
Genocide.
I’m a trademark of a
Grief-stricken mother,
I’m your son, your sister,
Your brother--
I’m your saint, your thug
And a lie.
I’m a whore of a sly politician,
I’m a martyr of a self-serving mission--
I’m the story that keeps you alive.
Yes, I am Trayvon--
Your vote, your profit
I’m your muse, your product, your coffin--
I’m whatever you want me to be.
And when you’re done,
You’ll find another
To make a monster
Or an innocent brother--
Because in each case
It is all black and white.
March 27, 2012
--Alexander Shaumyan
Revolution
Blood running in the gutters
This story is as old as time
Once again the bloodied up
Victims have committed no crime
The “elected” officials in power
Aren’t keeping their word
And the people on the streets
They just want to be heard
Peaceful protests are broken up
With what seems like violence
While the people want freedom
The government wants silence
They strike hard and fast disabling
Various lines of communication
They shut down the Internet and Al Jazeera
In attempt to settle the frustrated nation
This infringement upon freedom
Only added more fuel to the fire
It hasn’t stopped the protests
Or cooled their desire
The uprisings continue
The citizens stand and unite
They know what they want
So they continue to fight
Mubarak doesn’t get it
He tries to offer a solution
But the people already have an answer
It’s called a REVOLUTION