a poem on the loss of my beloved friend lost to Gaza..
a treatise on life through the eyes of a girl shinobi.
A number of top diplomats from the European Union and elsewhere are angrily condemning Israel for the military’s plan to expel Palestinians from eight villages and then destroy those villages to make way for “military training” zones.
Israeli officials have been trying to destroy the villages since 1999, but had been blocked by the Israeli High Court. The Defense Ministry now insists that the villages were “illegally built” in military territory even though they have been there since at least 1830, some 150 years before the military claimed it.
The destruction of the villages would displace some 1,500 Palestinians, who the military plans to force into the city of Yatta. The military argues that theoretically some of the villagers could be “terrorists” spying on their training, and that the court wouldn’t have jurisdiction to prevent them from such demolitions.
The de facto annexation of even more Palestinian land to Israeli military control will bring the stalled peace process into even closer focus ahead of a planned Palestinian bid for statehood. Israel has given lip service to the idea of granting the Palestinians some sort of state in a fraction of the West Bank, but that fraction seems to be dwindling all the time.
Forced transfers of civilian populations by an occupying power are also illegal under international law. This is likely to be a key focus of diplomats, though Israel has been doing this sort of thing for decades, claiming “national security” trumps humanitarian law.
fuck that
light one up to this.
La Haine - “Nique La Police”. Dope scene from a dope movie.
Palestinian runner Woroud Sawalha at London 2012 Olympics
This is the end result of the free write I posted here.
Belly of the Beast
we are
a pulsing mass of flesh
with pounding war drum heart beats
dancing in single rhythm around fire
in the belly pit of a 7 headed hydra beast
awoken is a raging generation of bullet proof idealists
and ticking time bomb libidos
we get off on big brother watching
while we siren wail our songs till walls sweat
our last nights getting over
we are the people that carry bucket lists on the tips of our tongues
and on the soles of our feet
tap dance on powder keg with matches between our teeth
a conscious out of body instrument tuned to perfect pitch
one note vibration
won’t let anyone tell us we aint got this, because we do
listen to what our drop the beat box preacher says
Today is for us. The ones who read the books and saw the same signs
hindsight lent us a prophecy and told us embrace the instant
insanity
its the only way to make moves
make moves
like jazz nights make the streets wet with panting heat
like leaving the lights on and the trail of dawn on our bedroom floors
people. we are so human
and we know it
led by a procession of dancing brides carrying folk songs
in the lace wrapped between their fingertips
leaping and twisting back and forth in the sway of jasmine scented exhale
this is militant celebration
reclamation of skin bone and
knowing not too much is written in stone
we will not kneel to a God that does not dance in our revolution
and we will go willingly with a winter nights heave into dingy bars and
basement night clubs
pouring ourselves into strangers with the same passion for loose fingertips and
pressed up tight, hips
this is lift and take off
this is resistance in the romance of pen sounds on the back of spiraled infinity
this is the takeover of scorpion tongued youth with nothing to lose
no concepts of things not to do
we are as cool as a raindrop caught in the palm of an April bud sleeping in shade
we are that same kind of fragile too
with an affinity for seeing things in utopia sapphire blue
found our innocence in the unravel of strings on a pair of worn out shoes
ricocheting bright green sentiment in life perspective hughe
off the grey dust on back alley walls
bad habits make for the best stories so we choose to write our laughs in cracks of open flame and breaks of bip bap
we are not like those that came before
they have failed to shake the mud off our boots
they have failed to take the joy of living in the mess of past lovers ecstasy and future hush dark liquor secrets
we are of birthing and nurturing, a loose leaf village of renaissance renegades left to raise ourselves in the blistering oil slick of hellish summers and the damp remnants of arab springs
we are the kids sitting in the back of the class, day dreaming bell curves into breasts
keep your headphones on
this soundtrack unnerves peoples trapped in the bindings of old classics
know now
we are family.
we drink till acceptance is an option
aim and take shots. take shots till enough is blurred
then in the peel orange daybreak, we carry ourselves tumbling into one anothers beds
coil ourselves into confines of comrade’s on nights where it’s easier to roll roaches using yesterday’s news,
bask in the dimming lit ends of simple truth
in mornings of cardamom coffee and lifeless politics of chain smoke
so
to the freaks who put themselves on display and dance in the glitter of full moons
to those learning to unlearn,
to the those of us who teeter tottered like school children on the seesawing brinks of one crisis after the other
and swayed in the balance long enough to make it
this one’s for us.
…this morning with an image in my head of young people dancing around a fire which led to me to a freewrite.
It is a work in progress, feedback is appreciated. Maybe I can turn this into a complete piece. and if the image inspires you then you should free write too!
we are
a pulsing mass of flesh
with pounding war drum heart beats
dancing in single rhythm around fire
in the belly pit of a 7 headed hydra beast
awoken is a raging generation of bullet proof idealists
and ticking time bomb libidos
we get off on big brother watching
while we siren wail our songs till walls sweat
our last nights getting over
we are the people that carry bucket lists on the tips of our tongues
and on the soles of our feet
tap dance on a powder keg with matches between our teeth
a conscious out of body instrument tuned to perfect pitch
one note vibration
won’t let anyone tell us we aint got this, because we do
listen to what our drop the beat box preacher says
Today is for us. The ones who read the books and saw the same signs
hindsight lent us a prophecy and told us embrace the instant
insanity
its the only way to make moves
make moves
like jazz nights make the streets wet with panting heat
like leaving the lights on and the trail of dawn on our bedroom floors
people. we are so human
and we know it
led by a procession of dancing brides carrying folk songs
in the lace wrapped between their fingertips
leaping and twisting back and forth in the sway of jasmine scented exhale
this is militant celebration
reclamation of skin bone and
knowing not too much is written in stone
we will not kneel to a God that does not dance in our revolution
and we will go willingly with a winter nights heave into dingy bars and
basement night clubs
pouring ourselves into strangers with the same passion for loose fingertips and
pressed up tight, hips
this is lift and take off
this is resistance in the romance of pen sounds on the back of spiraled infinity
this is the takeover of scorpion tongued youth with nothing to lose
no concepts of things not to do
we are as cool as a raindrop caught in the palm of an April bud sleeping in shade
we are that same kind of fragile too
with an affinity for seeing things in utopia sapphire blue
found our innocence in the unravel of strings on a pair of worn out shoes
we all know we aint got a clue
generous
with his foolishness,
it spills
from deep pockets
and sticks
unwanted
to the bottoms
of wandering soles,
worn off
with
a tread that heaves,
every step.
