by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

"JUDENFREI"     was a term commonly used during the time of the holocaust... It's meaning... 
"FREE OF JEWS" 

 Act III, Scene I...


"O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
    That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
    Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
    That ever lived in the tide of times.
    Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
    Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
    Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
    To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
    A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
    Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
    Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
    Blood and destruction shall be so in use
    And dreadful objects so familiar
    That mothers shall but smile when they behold
    Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
    All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
    And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
    With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
    Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
    Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
    That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
    With carrion men, groaning for burial."


             --Julius Caesar (1599) William Shakespeare
            

180

Poetry Preview #1

If I could transform my thoughts into art, I would create a masterpiece beyond what has ever been created, because with my imagination and my dream for fantasy, I am able to imagine peace and no suffering, love and no violence, happiness and no hatred. If I could transform my thoughts into art, I would create a masterpiece beyond what has ever been created. 

We shall never forget
We shall keep this day,
We shall keep the events and the tears
In our minds, our memory and our hearts
and take them with us as we carry on.

Whether it caused the fatal end of one person, 

or three thousand people... 

The tragic events and actions that occurred that day, 

were both cowardly by the hijackers 

and heroic by all those who helped at the World Trade Centre.

Thank you God for giving us these people who were kind, 

noble and brave enough to face the dangers, 

and darkness of that day, which most of us will never forget.

♥♥♥

This is the ending of a very beautiful movie, "La Vie est Belle."

This movie, despite its title, is tragic, but warms ones heart, 

because of the innocence and purity the characters in the movie reveal.

Only so many fathers would go to those lengths to savour the innocence in his son...

Only so many fathers would pretend war is just a game, where prizes and points are given...

Only so many fathers would smile and laugh, while they sacrifice their life for their family...

THE BALLOT IS STRONGER 
THAN THE BULLET...

Little Girl Can't Let go as Sergeant Daddy Leaves For Iraq

by Tom Henderson 
Oct 7th 2009 3:30PM

Paige Bennethum, 4, holds her daddy's hand as he lines up in formation before heading to Iraq. Credit: Abby Bennethum

Some things are just not allowed when soldiers are standing in formation. One of them is 4-year-old girls.

However, there was no soldier stern enough to pry Paige Bennethum of Laureldale, Pa. from her father as he prepared to leave last July for a year-long deployment in Iraq.

Abby Bennethum captured her daughter's emotions in a photograph that she passed along to the Reading Eagle, the newspaper in Berks County, Pa. The image immediately captured many other people's emotions.

Army Reserve Staff Sgt. Brett Bennethum was preparing to depart from Fort Dix, N.J., for Iraq, leaving behind his pregnant wife and two little girls. His family was there to see him off. His commanding officer didn't have the heart to tell Paige she had to let go of her daddy.

"I didn't want to let go of him," she told NBC Philadelphia.

Sgt. Bennethum, 30, is scheduled to return home next July. Until then, he's transporting supplies across the Iraqi border. He serves with the 733rd Transportation Company based in Reading, Pa.

Abby Bennethum said she got pregnant right before her husband left for Iraq. "I've heard of deployment babies, but I never thought I'd be having one," she told the Reading Eagle. The couple's other daughter, Lena, is just 10 months old.

Staff Sgt. Bennethum got a four-day pass so he could spend some quality time with his family and they could make the two-hour trip to Fort Dix to see him off. Almost immediately upon arrival, his commanding officer ordered the soldiers to fall in.

"Gotta go," he told his family. But Paige walked up behind him in formation, grabbed his right hand and would not let go.

"I called her a couple of times, but she wouldn't budge," her mother said. She still wishes she was holding her father's hand.

"I just miss my dad right now," Paige told NBC.

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1A4ggh/www.parentdish.com/2009/10/07/little-girl-cant-let-go-as-daddy-leaves-for-iraq%253Ficid%253Dmain%257Cmain%257Cdl3%257Clink3%257Chttp%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.parentdish.com%25252F2009%25252F10%25252F07%25252Flittle-girl-cant-let-go-as-daddy-leaves-for-iraq%25252F

Join the Battle at Hogwarts: July 15, 2011

What's Genocide?

their high school principal
told me I couldn’t teach
poetry with profanity
so I asked my students,
“Raise your hand if you’ve heard of the Holocaust.”
in unison, their arms rose up like poisonous gas
then straightened out like an SS infantry
“Okay. Please put your hands down.
Now raise your hand if you’ve heard of the Rwandan genocide.”
blank stares mixed with curious ignorance
a quivering hand out of the crowd
half-way raised, like a lone survivor
struggling to stand up in Kigali
“Luz, are you sure about that?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.”

“Carlos—what’s genocide?”

they won’t let you hear the truth at school
if that person says “fuck”
can’t even talk about “fuck”
even though a third of your senior class
is pregnant.

I can’t teach an 18-year-old girl in a public school
how to use a condom that will save her life
and that of the orphan she will be forced
to give to the foster care system—
“Carlos, how many 13-year-olds do you know that are HIV-positive?”

“Honestly, none. But I do visit a shelter every Monday and talk with
six 12-year-old girls with diagnosed AIDS.”
while 4th graders three blocks away give little boys blowjobs during recess
I met an 11-year-old gang member in the Bronx who carries
a semi-automatic weapon to study hall so he can make it home
and you want me to censor my language

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

your books leave out Emmett Till and Medgar Evers
call themselves “World History” and don’t mention
King Leopold or diamond mines
call themselves “Politics in the Modern World”
and don’t mention Apartheid

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

you wonder why children hide in adult bodies
lie under light-color-eyed contact lenses
learn to fetishize the size of their asses
and simultaneously hate their lips
my students thought Che Guevara was a rapper
from East Harlem
still think my Mumia t-shirt is of Bob Marley
how can literacy not include Phyllis Wheatley?
schools were built in the shadows of ghosts
filtered through incest and grinding teeth
molded under veils of extravagant ritual

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

“Roselyn, how old was she? Cuántos años tuvo tu madre cuando se murió?”

“My mother had 32 years when she died. Ella era bellísima.”

…what’s genocide?

they’ve moved from sterilizing “Boriqua” women
injecting indigenous sisters with Hepatitis B,
now they just kill mothers with silent poison
stain their loyalty and love into veins and suffocate them

…what’s genocide?

Ridwan’s father hung himself
in the box because he thought his son
was ashamed of him

…what’s genocide?

Maureen’s mother gave her
skin lightening cream
the day before she started the 6th grade

…what’s genocide?

she carves straight lines into her
beautiful brown thighs so she can remember
what it feels like to heal

…what’s genocide?
…what’s genocide?

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

“Luz, this…
this right here…

is genocide.”

- Carlos Andrés Gómez

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1d0IYd/community.livejournal.com/greatpoets/2868543.html

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped. Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas!Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud 
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest 
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

                                                        --Wilfred Owen

"Silence is a war crime."

Silence kills slowly,

fight against the silence; 

raise your voice

and make a fuss, just in case

they come after your race...