"conference" poems
The Story
by Kamal Nasser
translation by Michael R. Burch
I will tell you a story ...
a story that lived in the dreams of my people,
a story that comes from the world of tents.
It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror.
It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees.
Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them
and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels.
It is the story of the suffering ones
who stood waiting in line ten years,
in hunger,
in tears and agony,
in hardship and yearning.
It is a story of a people who were misled,
who were thrown into the mazes of the years.
And yet they stood defiant,
disrobed yet united
as they trudged from the light to their tents:
the revolution of return
into the world of darkness.
Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser.
Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people.
Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Up early as usually but this time with a mission to complete Halloween Costumes.
Not a pain free day most definitely, but have kids who rely on me to be a good mom.
Everyone has haters; the two faced, "your girls" wanting your guy or envy clothes style,
or randoms you never met, desiring your life, home or new car bought with hard work.
Most days what's posted on sites about me makes not a bit of difference in my world,
I ignore and move on with my life, know haters have nothing better to do than gossip.
No news is good news and nothing from my usual "Town Criers" saying "Guess What?"
One day got messages in text, "You have been labeled Babylon's ***** by Craiglisters!"
Not a "lol" nor "Roflmao" situation. Thinking, What in the world? and How in the world?
Me, Ms. Abstaining and they, who love assuming and posting drama without thought.
Their world; small town America and believers of truth in "all" internet rumors and media,
not willing to give benefit of doubt, once minds, so limited in thought, have been made up.
E-mail inquiries from potential employers I never met from destinations far far away,
asking and informing that person with such low morals shall never be part of their world.
Drama finds me and neither welcome nor do I seek it out, way too emotionally draining,
believer in live and let live, authored "Celibacy" poem to stop jokes made to my kids.
Who knew that trying for your dreams could bring forth bringers or illogical pure hatred?
Who knew that emotions of my children whom I love, would be affected by narrow minds?
After family conference and with full support, by the way, had to explain ***** to son,
this mom carries on and still on second journey pursuing dreams and making realities.
If I give up dreams it will never be because someone posted bold faced lies on open forum,
it will be because I choose to do it with good reasons and those reasons are mine alone.
Pitfalls? Have been numerous. Will? Strong and still determined to see this through to end.
Tomorrow isn't promised and hear my dad say, "Daughter, go forth and let haters be fuel!"
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
While I don't suffer, or suffer from
Normal, eurocentrism, northern malaise,
Nor, academia, a blood disease,
I do mind manners in which doings
And not doings are done or aren't,
As it brings life and light to them,
Or it doesn't, for those most attached
To living or dying are most closely death.
This while acid rain from your closed eye
And an acre of rainforest falls each second.
Thus Earth's tears bleed for all you see is gray.
As machinations of travailing winds,
Miraging, veil, mirror narcissistic nihlistic
False-ego as self, do "..we(e),.." evince to be?
A republican chides, "put another poet
On the barbie", his idea of conservation.
Prump has had his exec. branch criminally:
Edit the official video and script of his
Helsinki news conference where tutin was asked,
"Did you help prump become president and did you
Have your gov't do the same", with tutin's answers,
"Yes I did, yes, I did..." + premeditatedly separate
Latino families at the border to torture them,
Dictate that "if they want to see their kids again
They have to sign away their rights and leave".
He just said, "don't believe what you hear, see",
Almost a quote from Orwell's '1984', in which
Is written, "this dictate of the gov't was most
Important of all, don't believe what your ears
Hear or your eyes see". Since altright universe
Invaders were installed in the Blackhouse we've
Known things will only get worse, what other
Reason could his "military parade in 11-18" be for
Except military rule, will the American daymare end?
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 7:13 AM UTC
Korean fashion experts have shared their know-how with Malaysia.
At the "K-Fashion Conference for Malaysia" in Kuala Lumpur on Feb. 16, a group of Korean professionals gave lectures under the topics "K-Fashion Design Trend Transition & Forecast," "Digital & Online Marketing Strategies," "Power Brand and Concept Development Strategies" and "How to enter the global market."
The Korea Fashion Association, the Malaysia External Trade Development Corporation (MATRADE) and the ASEAN-Korea Centre organized the event to strengthen the competitiveness of Malaysian fashion brands by improving the added value of the industry through brand development.
About 50 Malaysian fashion industry companies and related government officials attended.
"There is growing interest in K-fashion, along with the high popularity of Korean dramas and entertainment shows, making this workshop even more timely and meaningful," ASEAN-Korea Centre Secretary General Kim Young-sun said. "The Malaysian fashion industry has huge potential as it is currently ranked in the top five in the ASEAN fashion industry."
On Feb. 15 and 17, Korean experts visited local fashion merchandisers for market research and consultations.
According to the ASEAN-Korea Centre, the Malaysian fashion industry has had massive growth with the expansion of Islamic fashion markets.
MATRADE aims to boost the industry as the nation's leading exporter. It has been organizing Malaysia Fashion Week (MFW) since 2014 to make the capital a fashion destination in Asia.
The second MFW in 2015 featured designers from more than 15 countries, and over 300 booths showcased the quality products of Malaysian fashion brands to the domestic and foreign trade, accodring to the organization.
The ASEAN-Korea Centre is an intergovernmental organization established in 2009 with an aim to promote exchanges among Korea and the 10 ASEAN member states.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
I Am Waiting
I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep thru the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the Great Divide to be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am awaiting retribution
for what America did
to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting
for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder
I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
youth’s dumb green fields come back again
and I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
When I lost my marbles,
My dad would always say:
"Don't worry, you'll find them
When you just stop searching."
And it sounded stupid,
But every time I stopped,
Yeah, I found my marbles.
I grew up; my dad died,
Seasons changed, so did I,
But the rule stayed as true.
One day, I'd given up
On that romantic stuff,
And,
Resigned to die alone,
I walked into a big
Ol' Shakespeare conference,
To watch Othello die.
Well there, they were taking
"Volunteers" for Juliet,
"Lucky men" Romeos,
And I was one of them.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
I am naked and wearing a football helmet. in many ways, I am the memory my son has of taking a bath. a picture doesn’t last any longer than it takes me to look at it. when it’s my sister I can hear her pointing out
assaulted
places. poor places, poor puppy. I don’t know why I am a child. my sister has no problem listening to herself. her last blank book had only a title, a running joke she quoted from and called shower days. to date, my son has had one seizure. he shook the provided angel. my body was at a press conference.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
They say grief comes in waves
varying in size and intensity;
some start small, moving silently,
might seem harmless but engulf
me within no time and I
was never taught how to swim.
Thrashing and flailing in the water
I find it difficult to breathe.
The seas of sadness pull me far
into their abyss where there is no
light or hope to get out of the misery;
sometimes even that feels enticing and comforting.
On other days these waves come
roaring loud in the ears, threatening
to steal my ground away from me, often
I brave to surf over them with the
help of distractions and they
recede, scheming to gulp me down later.
Wonder how I end up on these shores every time
while on a train or on my bed, in a
classroom or in a conference hall, amongst
the crowded streets and when alone,
memories of yesterday strewn like sea shells
lead me to the waters and I can always hear their elegies.
And when the moon shines its brightest
on them, you get to see the scene of tranquillity
but deep inside my heart there is
a storm brewing slowly that takes
various names every season, maybe there is
one named after you too, who knows.
Do you want to come with me down
to the ocean of tears? We could let
those waves kiss our feet while we watch
the sunset together, I will tell you
all my stories and you could share yours too.
I hope you know how to swim.
Sep 27, 2023
Sep 27, 2023 at 4:48 PM UTC
I feel as close to you as how wind is to my skin,
I feel as powerful with you as how I am with a gun.
I feel as courageous next to you as how sky divers are with working parachutes.
I feel as sad without you as departing rain drops from dark hovering clouds.
I feel as bored dismissing you as a good book read by a blind man.
I feel as far from you as how the visible sun is if you look from Earth.
I feel as clouded missing you as the moon is clouded by nebulae.
I feel as dejected promising you as government cronies over promising development.
I feel as lonely not seeing you as Golden Retrievers are when their masters are not around.
I feel as blatantly bloated next to you as over-heated air balloons raise up the shiny sky.
I feel as speechless around you as unprepared speakers in a conference hall.
And at the end, I feel as close to you as how my eyes met yours then cheekily, we detached our sight and pretend that we were never close at all.
I feel close to you still
but even closer
to sin.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Light spreads darkly downwards from the high
Clusters of lights over empty chairs
That face each other, coloured differently.
Through open doors, the dining-room declares
A larger loneliness of knives and glass
And silence laid like carpet. A porter reads
An unsold evening paper. Hours pass,
And all the salesmen have gone back to Leeds,
Leaving full ashtrays in the Conference Room.
In shoeless corridors, the lights burn. How
Isolated, like a fort, it is -
The headed paper, made for writing home
(If home existed) letters of exile: Now
Night comes on. Waves fold behind villages.
3.8k
The meeting is at 10:00 AM
So let’s begin
High above on the 38th Floor
In the Conference room, a view of new World Trade Center right across for everyone to explore
The Business Manager gave his welcomed speech
It’s was to everyone he was trying to reach
The Board shows the arrows of sales elevation in 90% results flow
However during the months of May and June show a decline of 70%
Due to the economy being extremely slow
Yet Oppenheimer helped everyone feel assured
After that, there was hands of applause
The Business Manager stated, “Oppenheimer has a solid portfolio foundation handshake
So we are known in the financial world and assets in what’s at stake
Oppenheimer Trader’s are well trained
We hit the bull’s eye being the aim
Let’s keep Oppenheimer on top
Keep focused and don’t stop
Now with that said
I will take questions from the floor
As you ask the questions, I will think then I will analyze and my outcome in concept planning surprise
Later the meeting was adjourned
Now go out and continue to produce in using what you learned
You are Oppenheimer’s success story and our talent is our glory.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Four Years.
Four years
of high school basketball:
has come to an abrupt halt.
You see, we'd swag into the locker room.
Pump up the tunes.
throw on the black air Jordan jump suits
and whip out the pre-game moves.
The three coaches walked in
We listened to the pre-game speech
Popped a couple altoids to "keep it fresh"
then slugged a bit of water
The warm up commenced
Lay-ups
Three on Two
Shooting
One more locker room run.
Jersy's on!
But right back on to the court
Where the fans anticipate.
Just a few more shots
Now one minute left
Time for the National Anthem.
"Gentlemen remove your hats."
Pre-game nerves suddenly sink in.
"Oh say can you see."
Thoughts about the game fill my mind.
I look at the crowd, and my loving team mates.
"And now for tonights starting line-up."
Names announced.
Team has last minute words
one. two. three. "swag" ....Tip-off!
We were so good.
So athletic.
A team with 8 returning seniors
we were such ballers
Conference Champs
District Champs
But we couldn't beat them
"The best team in the state."
We weren't sad about the loss though.
We were sad that we had to leave this team.
This team that we'd been with for four years.
We loved each other more than anything.
The final moments in the locker room were bittersweet.
Tears of sadness, tears of joy
We accomplished so much, but above all
It was about the memories we made together.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
My first paper cut happened so fast
I didn’t know something so thin
Could hurt so badly.
Thin was never an adjective
I’d associated with pain but
The sting of red blood that
Appeared on the surface of my skin
Would later become an addiction
I couldn’t get away from.
Thin silver razor blades
And thin white paper
Shouldn’t seem so similar.
My teacher asked me if I needed a
Band-Aid at my kindergarten conference
When a paper cut sliced my finger
While we were going through my materials
As if looking into my future.
I told her I didn’t need a Band-Aid
And in return, she told me that I was strong.
Kindergarten has come and gone
And after a very long time of thinking
Band-Aids made you weak,
I’ve realized that bandaging up your
Wounds actually makes you stronger
Than trying to bottle up the hurt.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
#
Floating brazier spews electric amber waves
as a setting sun radiates on the ceiling
a shadow of a ship coquettishly sways
while in the center charybdis begins swilling
another message, another missed call
another debt collector and his esurient talk
watch the ship begin to swirl, this scene so banal
amber feathered tawny eyed peacock
continues furtively to scroll her story and shoe shop
crowded room with a panel onstage
reality and fantasy evaporate and fall as a single raindrop
drown in the muck, don't know how to disengage
and to stay in the sway of fantasy.
#
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
Stop me if you have heard this one before.
"Boy meets girl."
Stop. Erase.
"Boy meets girl in a trivial pursuit."
Stop. Erase.
No, there is no meeting at all.
Boy never meets girl, as meeting implies brevity.
A meeting is held in a conference room.
A meeting is not felt to the very core.
A meeting is no flower on the brink of bloom.
The reality is, the world ceases to spin on its axis.
The sun flares at the sight of her.
The moon implodes at the sound of her.
Mars and Venus collide at the touch of her.
All while constellations dance like moths,
Hovering far too close to a flame.
There is no pulse, only rhythm.
There is no break, only bend.
There is no rescue, only flailing.
There is no beginning, only end.
Now boy is standing at the center of a great divide.
And girl disappears, abruptly as the tide.
Stop me if you have...
Stop. Erase.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 8:18 AM UTC
The Daily Mail, UK and Herald Sun (Australia) report on how Father Gabriele Amroth of the Vatican teaches that yoga and Harry Potter and the ‘oriental religions’ are the works of the Devil...the following poem expresses my outrage at such stupidity and parochialism that still exists amongst some groups of Europeans even today in their relations with the East.
song of Father Gabriele Amorth
O yoga yoga
baby baby
sings Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni
O yoga yoga
no go no go
to yoga yoga
baby baby
all you innocents
and pure
all blessed
and destined for Heaven
no go to yoga yoga
yoga yoga
yogurt is fine
sugar in your yogurt is fine
strawberry and apple
in your yogurt is fine
so eat eat your
yogurt yogurt yogurt
but yoga yoga
O yoga yoga
no go no go no go baby
baby baby
sings Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni
and also no go to Harry Potter
baby baby baby
no go no go
no go to yoga no to yoga
and no go no go
to Harry Potter
baby baby baby
now say after me:
*yoga yoga yoga
baa baa baa
bad bad bad*
and say after me:
*Harry Potter Harry Potter
moo moo moo
bad bad bad*
O baby baby baby
at our next conference
I’ll teach you
how the Dragon is bad
and how the Chinese got it all wrong
all these centuries
with their Chinese Dragon, Dragon, Dragon
but that’s for next time
next time next time
baby baby baby
for now just repeat after me
your most reverend
Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni:
*O yoga yoga
no go no go
to yoga yoga
baby baby*
And say after me
all ye faithful
all ye blessed:
*Harry Potter Harry Potter
moo moo moo
bad bad bad*
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
Sign here and,here
Authorized personnel only
Exit…
A sign of distress on his face
The normal signs of distress?
No. Signal the white flag high
Suboxone and methadone
Romney and Ryan
The county fairgrounds…
“Lookout for that fox!”
DUI you cant afford it
DUI CRACK you cant afford it
Hand signals communicate
UFO Conference?
No SIGNS of UFO’s tonight
“Where’s your sign?”
What would my sign look like?
Winding road, next 4 miles
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
... compare war stories
and overanalyze the depth of your scars...
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
Hi Dad,do you love me?
Why of course i do sweetheart, you're my daughter after all.
Now shhh quit talking, I'm on a conference call.
Hi Dad, do you love me?
Yes yes, of course.
But forget your mom, we're getting a divorce.
Hi Dad, do you love me?
Mhm, sure do!
but keep on working, you've got studies to tend to.
Hi Dad do you love me?
Yes, you're the bomb!
Now look the other way, while I'm hitting your mom.
Hi Dad, do you love me?
How could i not?
but if you get an A, I'll really love you a lot.
Hi Dad, do you love me?
Yes, you're beautiful, you're smart
Hope you don't mind me breaking your heart!
Hi Dad do you love me?
I do today.
careful though, i probably won't stay.
Hi Dad do you love me?
i guess you're okay
Now say goodbye as i move far far away.
Hi Dad do you love me?
Well i guess i have to
but check out my new family, way better than you.
**Dad please, do you love me?**
Why I'm afraid not
to be honest sweetie, you never had a shot
But why don't you love me, am i not good enough?
Never were honey. But quit crying, be tough.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Well, gentlemen, it all came together in the end there as
you will see when you study the game film later on. You
will notice that we controlled the line of scrimmage during
the entire second half, which is what turned the whole thing
around after falling behind. The way that we mixed it up on
offense, there was no telling where we were going to attack
from. That is what we have struggled with all year long. We
have been inconsistent, to say the least. But I’m sure that you
would all agree that we are starting to jell at just the right time.
Now, after a rough start to the season, it’s on to the playoffs.
Now is when we really need to focus, or it will be “one-and-out”
time. I can guarantee you one thing and one thing only. This
club has yet to reach its full potential. If we can just bang on all
four cylinders from here on out, then we might make a pretty
****** good run at this puppy. Frankly, I’m looking forward to
the challenge; I know that our guys are. They’ve worked their
butts off all year long. Forget about the record. I’ve never been
a real big fan of statistics. There are other factors involved at this
point in the season. It’s been a pleasure, folks. It’s been a long
time coming, and I am sure that this will not be our last rodeo.
Or is it last song and dance? Well, you know. We’ve got more
bulls to ride, and this is going to be like the Calgary Stampede
now. It’s time to saddle up and to man up; that’s all. Giddy up.
Punch them doggies and call in the cavalry. We have arrived!
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
my mother was born a gardener
and my father became one
through patient snap peas and
angry red tomatoes
he seeded and watered and waited
while my mother grew hibiscus in the mountains
and plums in the shade
i was born a painter
but its tank me years to pick up a paintbrush
and my brother was born a poet
but i sincerely doubt that he’ll ever show it
i mix my paints on my palette of flowers
and my brother goes to meetings at banks
My other attended the only Agricultural High School available to her within a 40 mile radius of her South Philadelphia home. This was not a coincidence.
My father attended the best athletic conference in his affluent suburban community. This was.
She started out watering plants in fast food joints, arranging flowers for junior proms in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. When my father met her, she only ate lettuce and seeds because that was all she could manage to put in her body.
My father kneeled to the ground, saw the soil beneath her fingernails, and fell in love.
I can only love men who garden. I can only be a daughter of the earth because of them.
I don’t like terrariums because they frustrate me. Life trapped behind glass, that I cannot touch, or feel, or smell. I cannot water, I cannot fathom to even slightly disturb their existence, no matter how desperately I want to.
I’m getting my hands ***** touching old soil. I wipe it on my skirt before I touch the sweat on the back of my neck. I’m planting forget-me-nots and basil. I don’t even know if those go together. But I am putting them deep in the ground and it occurs to me that in a few weeks, I might not even remember them. They might die and become some stupid memory, a part of my dinner party story vernacular, Or maybe waiting for them will change me, will allow me to commit as a meditation on earthen peace.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
The hills over this rocky strech of road are greener,
that contain the things I want in life.
Success, a happy family, you name it.
I am wanting greener pastures. But it is going to take some time like a press conference for Obama
announcing his latest economic plan. Yes the greener pastures are coming its just tough right now to wait for it.
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 10:06 AM UTC