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Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
Hi;

This is not a poem.

But given the infernal catastrophe that has befallen, I just think it is time for you Americans to listen to us people living 'out there'.

Here are my thoghts, that I submit to you with respect;


HAITIAN EARTHQUAKE: A HISTORIC MOMENT FOR AMERICA TO CHANGE ITS MISSION

Ayad Gharbawi

January 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria


The recent Haitian earthquake is unusual in that it has destroyed the entire meagre ‘infrastructure’ of a so-called nation.
In fact, this 2010 earthquake succeeded in showing the world that the so-called ‘country’ of Haiti is nothing more than another piece of estate/land/property for a select, few oligarchs.
Anyway, the US response to this ecological/environmental holocaust that has befallen upon Haiti has been unprecedented.
America, under President Barack Hussein Obama, has behaved impeccably in Haiti.
The brilliance in Obama’s aid for Haiti is successful precisely because he has avoided previous attempts by the US to help on the basis of ‘humanitarian’ grounds, when those grounds happened to also include conflicts raging within them.
Obama avoided the mistake of getting America involved in a humanitarian crises that existed within a civil war – like what happened in Lebanon (1982-83), Somalia (1991-3), Bosnia (1995), Kosovo (1999).
I write this article because I, as an outsider, wish ardently, to speak to you Americans.
Today, you Americans have the choice: either to follow the militaristic, expansionist policies of the US President, Theodore Roosevelt, or you may follow the path of the first morally-guided President of the US - Woodrow Wilson.
I urge you Americans to leave all countries where there are civil wars – such as in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen and so on.
Let these countries do whatever their people wish to do against each other.
Instead, allow your great arsenal of democracy to help and intervene on humanitarian missions – in countries wherein there are no civil wars – such as you have been doing so magnificently in Haiti.
Use your power, your wealth, your US Army, Air Force, and Navy to help humans who need the helping hand of succour.
I tell you, that you Americans, once you adopt this peaceful, moral foreign; policy, you shall see that your enemies will fade.
Taleban have told you repeatedly, and have repeatedly contacted to you, telling you that they are engaged in an Afghani civil war. So why do you intrude?
Al Qaeda have told you repeatedly if you leave the Middle East, then they have no quarrel with you.
Why can you Americans not accept or understand that so long as you do not invade, occupy or create military bases in foreign lands, no one, and no organization and no party and no country will see you as an enemy?
This is a moment for you Americans do finally break off from the Theodore Roosevelt Principle (TRP) which is to attack, ****, slaughter and occupy any country you think is ‘worth it’.
And, at the same time, it is also a moment in history, when you can fully embrace the Woodrow Wilson Principle (WWP) of a foreign policy that is based on morality.
What you have done and what you are doing in Haiti is a pure act of WWP.
I believe the entire Third World applauds you and loves you for what your men and women are doing for the innocent victims of Haiti.
But, then, when other men and women, scream and shriek, saying: “Look at what these Americans are doing! They ****, butcher and ****** Afghans in order to support corrupt, drug dealing gangsters such as Hamid Karzai who, themselves, cannot control and, in any case, are not interested in ‘controlling’ their own country! So what else can you think of America’s real intentions?”
And what a good emotion-fuelled question, indeed.
What are you Americans doing fighting, losing American and Afghani blood in order to basically prop up and support criminal regimes such as the Karzai regime, whose only raison d’etre is to make profits through their various ‘business’ activities?
The more you Americans fight what are perceived as unjust, colonialist wars, the more you will create terrorists. It is a never ending cycle!
I argue and I passionately believe, that you Americans can do this. If only you US statesmen and stateswomen finally decide to adopt the beautiful, clean mantle of morality in your foreign policy.
Obviously, I do not have enough space to express my ideas and reasons. So, let me be clear: I am not advocating a slavish enactment of Wilsonian principles.
For, as an example, when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, the US had to make a military move, because no country can allow a sick dictator to control so much of the world’s oil. There are clear instances when aggression abroad can seriously threaten US interests. But, in truth, the vast majority of the wars you Americans entered, were unnecessary: you did not need to go beyond the Yalu in 1950 in Korea; you did not need to enter the North-South Vietnamese Civil War.
Take Kosovo: yes massacres were committed on all sides. But you did not need to bomb Serbia. First and foremost, that should and must have been a problem for European powers to solve. Secondly, Kosovo was never vital for US interests. And the fact is, Kosovo could never be a so-called ‘state’. Today, it is nothing more than a geographical area run by warlords, drug dealers and other gangsters who each carve out their own territory. Was that piece of gangster-run land worthy of killing Serbians? No!
Take North Korea: let Russian, South Korea and Japan deal with that abnormal so-called state. Why do you spend money on your troops and camps there? It is not in your interests and yes, North Korea does not threaten you Americans!
The same goes for Iraq in 2003 – you did not need to invade that country for the simple reason that Baghdad posed no threat to its neighbours, and certainly no threat to Europe or to the US.  Again, you should have let the Iraqis themselves solve whatever problems they have on their fragmented plate.
You must see and feel that US lives are not expendable for pointless and futile foreign adventures.
America should help those who have suffered environmental catastrophes and who are in a war-free zone.
America should help stable, developing nations where accountability starts from Washington and right back in – Washington.
And yes, of course, America should only use its military might if it is directly threatened by any person, nation or organization.
And to reduce this hatred that has spawned against you: I tell you, a voice from a wilderness, one mute krill from amongst billions yearning for exactly what I yearn for, I tell you: remove your military bases from Europe, Japan, South America, the Gulf, and anywhere else. These military bases are seen by people as ‘evidence’ of occupation. You do not need to keep these costly outposts. Remove them. Reduce your military presence that, in any way, has no effect, except to increase fanaticism and anger amongst your people. This is especially so in the Gulf, where your presence angers the people – leave those countries and yes, you will then reduce your costs, which is obviously beneficial to you Americans.
Instead of military compounds and bases, why not enthusiastically create consortiums of companies to build American schools, universities, hospitals, housing projects and get involved in building infrastructure projects in nations that have good accountability, so no money is wasted and so can never go, instead, straight to the pockets of the leaders.
Build the world; use your superpower might to create hope in broken nations, and that effort will, in turn, build love and you shall see, your enemies shall decrease and your military costs will decrease and your building projects will bring you greater revenues.
The choice is yours: follow a Wilsonian foreign policy or a Theodore Roosevelt foreign policy.
I hope the Haitian earthquake catastrophe has shed some light on which path US foreign policy should take.

Ayad Gharbawi
Denise Feb 2018
you are such a beautiful country,
Tears, fears and a future for Haiti,
They try to destroy us by our country struggle, we’re not able to fight because the violence and the hungry,
we stand alone weeping for help,
Every time we try to build they knock us down, what more can we do,
I fear that tomorrow Haiti will be gone and, many worse days to come thousands are dying and millions don’t have a home, but we are still salvation!
Try to hold on what can I say Haiti is a bless country, you only live for today,
my beautiful country is in pain we can’t cover the tear anymore, we won the independence from France, but we lost the poverty and other serious problems.
Haiti, politics, education, security, justice, elections, agriculture, reconstruction, culture, social, economy and tourism how can we leave this country stand alone, my heart is bursting and devastation but were thankful and bless, were not never given up, We have a chance to win the struggles and survived the pain.
We suffer enough now it’s time for a change!
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Emanuel Martinez Jul 2013
500 years of conquest
500 years of oppression
500 years of struggle
500 years of resistance

500 years of globalization
500 years of plundering
500 years of capitalism

I am a child, of the children, of the masses
Rising from Latin America
Of the and in alliance with...the oppressed of the world
White brothers and sisters haven't you seen your chains, too?
Because us colored children have long forgotten ours

But I'm tired of the chains...searching...where's my liberation gone?


Afro-Caribbean
Afro-Latino
African American
African
Indigenous
Asian
Middle Eastern
My people of color
Why can't we come together

Because we continue to be lied to
We continue to be denied
We continue to be subjugated
To the fact that we are subordinate
To something that is not us

That we are devoid
That we are empty
That we are workers and masters
With no mind or soul

We are the people without license
No legitimate place, in the periphery
Outside the margins
A threat to the safety of societies

Always the other, never part of we within discourses

We are the black slaves
In your blood and heritage Caribbean children
Your negation of us has been your ploy to secure your servitude to white supremacy in exchange for your economic stability.

We are the indigenous
That harvested and nurtured these beautiful Americas
Pests of conquest, you exploited our black brethren because we were not suitable for your exploitation. Instead you massacred us. Ever since confusing us with your mestizaje fodder.

We are the peasants, the servants, the broken families, the broken communities, the displaced peoples, we are the casualties, we are the unmitigated collateral damage:
Of revolutions, of wars, of conquests, of western civilization, of capitalism, of profit, of misanthropy

We are Trayvon  Martin, we are the 25 million families affected by Texas decision on abortion, we are the masses being left out by the recent reversal of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, we are the LGBT binational couples fighting for our rights, we are the undocumented community in solidarity asking TO BRING THEM HOME, we are the Brazilians demanding to be heard over the government's preoccupation with the preparations for the world cup, we are the everyday poor and homeless

From our peripheral places we are the ones that resist because otherwise we will die.

We are the ones that cannot afford to oppress anyone, because we are the most oppressed
Living in a system that pushes even those who are the most oppressed to mimic the system's usage of oppression
When there's no one else to oppress, still being aware of ourselves, we try

My Latin American brethren don't tell me that Haiti's silenced past does not pertain to you
They fought for the universal rights of everyone, doesn't that include you?
And because of that its revolutionary past has been dismantled within history discourses
So that other colored children of the world like you would not dream to resist their own oppression

My Latin American and Caribbean brethren stop negating your blood, culture, history...Don't you see it has been deliberately silenced so that you cannot understand yourself? Because to understand yourself, is to love yourself, is to realize the potential of you, is to resist anything that doesn't allow you to be you

African, and indigenous historical actors laid down their lives so that you could exist
The puddle that formed out of the rivers of indigenous and black blood is all red. Isn't that enough for you to understand that our oppression is tied, that we must defend each other.

Our tool against oppression is not money or guns.
The greatest fortress of the oppressed is our mind.
History is our weapon.

Our histories are powerful
Granting us consciousness
Giving us bravery
Dispelling lies and shattering the silencing of our power.

Let us nurture our colored children to love their histories
That they may understand the common experience of oppression of the masses the world over
That they will be ready and able and accountable
To the continued act of resistance of the oppression of any human being.

We are the ones that cannot afford to rely on ourselves, we are the vulnerable ones, we are the ones with targets on our backs, we are the ones in constant threat, we are the beautiful middle eastern peoples being targeted as terrorists and extremists, we are the poor with undiagnosed PTSD, we are the undocumented parents and adults with lost dreams, we are the inner city kids who have been lost to drugs, crime, and STDS, we are the ones that let others decide our rights

We are ones that must form alliances with each other, we are the ones that find strength in numbers, we are the ones that need allies in positions of privilege, we are the ones that must create the revolution through the power of our minds, not the wars, tool of the oppressors.

We are the hopes and the dreams that have faded from our parents, and grandparents, we are the revolutions that never came for the slaves, the servants, and the peasants of our heritage

We are the most dangerous obstacle to oppression.
Dormant in us is the promise of the liberation I've lost.
July 27, 2013
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
now i know why i might engage with writing obscene
poems, chauvinism included, but still there
is no burning excuse in my mind with the way
western society actively desires censorship of certain
words, i already attributed censoring obscene
words as worse than what this tactic precipitates into:
the apathetic spread of *******, and violence
in general... it crosses my mind that sparring with violent
language cushions people from violet action...
to utilise violent language with that: pardon my French
attitude does more good than evil on the users...
how many road rage incidents could have been avoided
if people were unable to watch their tongue:
somehow we're making language sterile, by actively
pursuing this sort of censorship: which is not even
remotely politically related / motivated, we're bringing
an anaemic status quo in how fluidly we speak -
we desire to not hear the sometimes funny and the sometimes
awful... but we choose to see the god-fearing horrific...
ask any blind-man about music and he'd say:
well, i can dance to it in a nucleus position, centrally
gravitational pull - but ask the deaf man about
what he has to say when seeing **** written to counter
obscenity, as in cartoon-like: f&%£! it's just plain silly,
pocket-sized expression of psychotic behaviours,
rummaging through them i find only one source of inspiration:
the fact that we're in this blind-man's garden of innocence,
somehow dressed in the camouflage of censorship such
a tiny problem, that it does indeed require 23 mattresses
for the princess to not feel the frozen *** agitating her...
this sort of censorship in its application is under
a false sense of purpose, it really doesn't change people's
behaviour for the better, it doesn't pacify them, in does
the reverse: it infuriates, it makes violence more potent...
i'm still trying to figure out why such words
will make our perceptions saintly... unless of course
that's the reason behind them, as way of invoking an
anaesthetic placebo, a placebo that's actually active rather
than passive - presuming the anaesthetic placebo gives
way to an aesthetic active apathy-inducing ingredient...
meaning we can't bare to hear swear words, but we can
gladly watch 20 hours of 20 : 1 ****... censoring **** ****
**** **** will not escape Newtonian physics...
given our current scenario, Newtonian physics is far
more important than Einstein's relativity, i'd hate to be
in denial about cause & effect... as began with Socrates,
i too abhor moral relativism... of course Newton got
the gravity bit wrong, but i like the simpler version...
plus... there was no Romance with Einstein...
no apple, no tree, no Voltaire... meaning we don't necessarily
write history collectively, with all of us starting from
the big bang or the view from the Galapagos islands...
we don't... we continue writing history not from a
collective consciousness genesis... or from the collective
unconscious genesis - that's Jung with his archetypes
(devil, god, wise man, mother, father etc.) rather than
dreams (Freud) - we can chose were to write the future...
it's not so much ignorance as arm-chair intellectualism,
it's not about the safety of understanding something,
but the comfort of choosing to understand something...
which is pretty much to my excuse for my previous poems...
Heidegger... and that concept of Dasein -
i never bothered to understand it to the point of
reacting subjectively to it, by that i mean an interest
in writing about it, an interpolation of the subject with
alternative variations... i objectified it, i also countered it
when objectifying the concept turned out to be an
everyday object, shortening my quest.
the counter? hiersein, i.e. being here, here denoting a
solipsistic classification of awareness with / in the world -
which is basically me in my room, admiring my library,
my record collection, my torn sneakers, everything that
is classified exclusive to what dasein evolves into
when all its grammatical weaving only express a verb,
i.e. concern... so i thought, given this what can hiersein
(being here / nonchalance) actually show me as
my lack of interest in: "changing the world".
it became obvious yesterday, i had a hard time when i
didn't read the day's copy of the times (more on this later),
instead i had to suffice with construction site media,
you might have heard of this newspaper: the daily star,
at 20 pence a pop, you will see what £1.20 makes to
your psyche... but that's basically it, i objectified Heidegger's
concept and made it into an everyday object, in this
case and as the only case available: a newspaper -
and the trick is? well, with a newspaper like daily star
you don't actually experience dasein - it's completely
missing in this style of media, and that's worrying given
my barbaric poetry of yesterday... it's missing, not there,
such object-for-object chirality is what gives birth to
hiersein (being here); but today i returned to my usual
media diet, a flicked through the times and the natural
balance of personal objects and a fresh impersonal object
coexisted - the newspaper is truly the most adequate
compounded expression of Heidegger's dasein -
which i attribute to the constant need to emphasise an
empathy with others... empathising is a neutral form
of sympathising, since sympathy is sourced in shared
experiences: **** victims (e.g.) - therefore empathy is
something that in the ontological structuring of dasein,
which opposes the ontological structuring of hiersein,
which is structured by apathy; there is nothing else for
me to write, apart from the compendium proof
of the disparity of sources, i.e. headlines and subheadings:

- prior compendium -

i will never understand the point of autobiographies,
the majority of autobiographies are written
on a p.s. basis, after the facts / actions,
never immediately, concerning ideas /
solidified thoughts, thoughts condensed into idea
that allow thinking / cognitive narration to
continue regardless with what's being achieved...
i haven't anything autobiographical dissimilar
with something biographical...
Plato wrote that wonderful biography like
Shakespearean theatre, but i guess his critics felt
the claustrophobic tug & pull of mermaids...
still the problem ascends heights unparalleled -
even with ghost writers doing the leg-work...
cheap-buggers never learned to write, let alone read,
and here they are writing biographies...
ah, **** it... they're only sketches... whether biographic
or autobiographic... they're still mere sketches...
if this was the art world the revenue would come
posthumously, when it comes to literacy
nothing really distinguishes poets from
those prescribing pedestrian signs...
the Olympians can moan at the vacant stadium...
that there's a hierarchy in sports,
with the favoured monochrome idealisation
of where the bunny money is in the whirlpool
of the rabbit hole investment: football, volleyball...
but the literary events are the same...
people love to lie that they read the bestseller to
its full extent... but treat books like chairs and tables...
inertia prone half finished, sat on for 2 weeks of
the entire year... the Olympians are very much
like poets, and i care to distance myself from either
demand for more interest being invoked...
i like esoteric sports, i like esoteric writing...
but that's how it stand: poets are Olympians where
novelists are footballers, who retire at 30 and
then think about what to do with their wages
that are 10x higher than the everyday labourer...
start a restaurant, buy a strip of houses in Liverpool
like Michael Owen? good guess, here's to exploiting
youth disgracefully... that's what they're getting,
and these are the dilemma points to consider...
they're the equivalent gladiators of our time,
Rome was just a sleeper before it awoke once more...
but i'll never understand why these
people decided to exploit literature for gain...
all these academics with their pristine purity of discovery
are pacified when dictating print,
what poet, has a chance in hell, to appear gladly
excavated from Plato's cave of television?
about none.
i too was focusing on 20th century literature,
before 21st literature came about...
and i thought, oh god: they're really going to create
a totalitarian democracy, every artist will be
strip-searched for adding cinnamon and chilli to their
writing to bounce away from conformist
sober and sane extraction of alter wordings...
this 21st scene will become polarised...
we'll have the extinction of One Direction over a joint,
while the Rolling Stones drank a keg of whiskey
and pulled off a show... we'll have moralisation
of the fans to subdue the artists, which will mean
no artist will ably create a zeitgeist to rebel... everyone
will suddenly experience a weird sort of communism...
the worst kind... it will mean having
all the mental freedoms without the ability to
economise a coup... basically an inertia, an immediate
fatality... we can't economise a coup...
which boils down to why so many autobiographies
aren't really biographic, but rather consolidating,
by the meaning: autobiographic i intended to relate
the everyday... the most secretive account of life:
the everyday... this is stressing Proust,
even though i preferred Joyce over Proust i keep
the everyday the prime ideal: the only detail,
so that an autobiography can make sense,
automation of writing, like breathing or sneezing...
not some monetary-spinning device 20 years after
the facts... 20 years later you're pretty much writing
fiction... i am all for the biosphere of expanding
Alveoli... but when did you ever read an autobiography
that mentioned the taste of weak coffee
from the Friday of 20th of August 2016? never;
you read autobiographies
like you read self-help books...  waiting for
all that experience regurgitating motivational talk
about reaching a plateau of comparative success...
i can understand autobiographies written by the elders,
i understand biographies written about people
posthumously - but the tragedy is, given the spinning
wheel of money? we're getting "auto" biographies
written toward their 3rd volume renditions of
people aged 30... let alone 40... so much for
western society having the upper hand on political matters...
just saying: sort your own **** before trying
to sort other people's problems...
i could understand if these autobiographies were written
as described: automaton solo... but they're not...
before the compendium it's this everlasting presence
of a desired body of power being depicted:
prior the monopoly of knowledge, there was a monopoly
of literacy... given that 99% of us are literate, it
actually doesn't mean a third donkey's *******
whether we can read, or write, we got shelved in controlling
this once priestly vanity, we got taught bureaucracy alongside...
but the monopoly of literacy is way past us,
we're being convened in the ability to monopolise knowledge,
(oh please, don't let the paranoia seep in,
remember yourself when reading me, once in a while,
i don't drag you to phantasmagorical heights, even if i could,
i'd prefer you being agile in learning how to be bored
than letting your repel the same boredom i too share,
well... but **** me if you want to be the next Lenin) -
and the easiest way to monopolise knowledge? the media...
you basically need a lot of facts, and an evolved version
of dialectics, dialectics being the prime enemy of democracy
(it's not an alternative political model like despotism as
we are held to believe, it's actually dialectics,
suppressing other forms of collectivisation is the one
sure method of suppressing the attempt at dialectics
(individualism) - by making people overly opinionated,
ergo: the inability to engage with opinions, blind-alleys
throughout all plausible attempts to do so) -
so once you have enough facts to fiddle with the Rubik's cube
of juxtaposition, you end up with the ultra-scientific
form of dialectics... the matter of opinion in relation
to truth without a relative uniformity that prescribes
the status quo stasis is a debate about how accurate
we all are: i.e., is that true to the closest centimetre,
or the closest millimetre? it's a bit like watching a Zeno
paradox:
                 10.1                           and 10.01
      which one's tortoise and which is Achilles?
well, you know; ah ****! the compendium of the two
newspapers which got me slightly depressed...

- the compendium -

a. daily star

- B. BRO SAM'S SECRET 'NERVOUS BREAKDOWN'
- Laura & Jason's baby joy
- Robbie (Williams) £1.6M a night!
- BREXIT BOOST ON JOB FRONT
- ANGE DAD BACKS TRUMP
- JR'S wife Linda set to Holly
- Edd's no Beverly Hills flop
(Lana among cow *******)
- LAURA: OUR TINY TROTTS WILL BE WORLD-BEATERS
- FURY AT BAD LOSERS' SLURS
- 'Jealous sis' jibes
- MAKE YOUR KID AN OLYMPICS ACE
- Peaty: I want to be a rapper
- TV girl really ill
- **** SAM, 'ON THE BRINK OF BREAKDOWN'
- COSTA ***** HELL
- CAGING ANJEM WILL INSPIRE NEW JIHADIS
- POG'S LOADED AGENT BUYS CAPONE'S LAIR
- I'll make Kylie a pop star
- JEZ DOESN'T KNOW ANT FROM HIS DEC
- GUILTY OF DEMONIC SAVAGERY
- Great British Rake In
- Britain is *******
- BAYWATCH U.K.
- Va Va Vroom
- JUST JANE: My lover snubs plea to get wed
- HART: I'LL DECIDE WHEN TO GO.

b. the times

- Boy victim becomes a symbol of Assad's war
- US Olympics swimmers invented robbery tale, say Rio police
- Make us sell healthy food, supermarkets implore May (P.M.)
- Lost weekend of the lying best man
- fears over free speech delay law to silence hate preacher
- Met's 'commuter cops' live in France
- Husbands happiest when they earn half as much as wives
- Socialists plot to drive Britain left
- Fake human sacrifice filmed at European high altar of physics
- Officers investigated over ex-footballer's Taser death
- Number of pupils taking languages at record low
   (Mandarin @ 2,849 - % decrease of 8.1,
    alarmingly religious studies 27,032 up by 4.9%
    and psychology of status 59,469 up by 4.3%....
    meaning the mad will soon be diagnosing the sane
   as mad, just because the curriculum said so)
- Top grades add up to 100% at the school for maths prodigies
- Deprived sixth formers thrive on competition
- European students rush to get into British universities
- DVLA earns £10m selling driver's details
- Mystery over Kenyan death of aristocrat
- Journalist who voted twice reported to police for
  'fraud'
- Tomato tax threatens European trade war
- Love story of the Pantomime
- Homeless conmen fleeced widow, 81
- Brownlee brothers at the Olympics...
- Hopeful shoppers give sales a lift after Brexit vote
- MoD guard could be stood down despite terrot threat
- Owners spit mansion after failing to sell
- The job with international appeal: saving our hedgehogs
- Finch warns unborn chicks if weather gets warm
- Migrant violence rises after decline in policing around Jungle
- Longest road tunnel promises a relaxing ride under Pennines
- Mothers step up to drive Tube trains through night
(rowdy teens ageing exponentially on a Saturday night
when not getting a lift, ******...)
-MP's deal with bookmaker to be investigated
- Ebola nurse 'hid high temperature'
- Shoesmith's ex-huspand kept child *******
- Morpurgo war tale springs into life
- Supergran fights off teenage muggers
- IVF is more successful for white women
OPINION SECTION
- Great political fiction is good for democracy
- the BBC is leaving its audiences in the dark
- airline food? just pass me the gin and tonic
- Modern Olympics began on the fields of Rugby
/ greasy polls, holding firm, tongue tied,
  call for compulsory targets to tackle obesity,
second in line, mindfulness course, cost of planning,
puffins v. ship rats.... and all future letters to the editor /
- Moscow presses Turkey for access to US airbases
- Hundreds killed each month in Assad's jails
- Putin bans celebration of defeated KGB coup
(another James Bond movie on the cards,
i'm assured, and with a moral carte blanche) -
Hollande clams Carla Bruni spied concerning his
use of diapers...
- Euthanasia tourists flock Belgian A & E from France,
  where a revival of ****** made people dress shark-fin
  sharp on the catwalk...
- Mosquito pesticide linkage application = intersex /
   East German women
- Haiti cholera linked to Nepalese **** and ***** via
  the
~
May 2023
HP Poet: Edmund Black
Age: 39 (almost)
Country: USA

Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Edmund. Tell us about your background?

Edmund Black: "My real name is Merlin Edmund (Black) cause I believe in magic and besides, it matches my cool ;). I was born in Port Aux Prince, Haiti. I moved to the United States when I was 11 years old and I’ve been living in New Jersey ever since. Seems like here on Hello poetry I’m stuck on 34, like I'm frozen in time alongside error 502, but I’ll be 39 years young this year on May 6. But please don’t tell anyone ;) lol."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Edmund Black: "I wrote my first poem (ever) here on HP called Caribbean love, back in 2018, and I have been a member since. I wrote that poem after I returned from a missionary trip back home in Haiti, after I witnessed so much poverty on such a small island. And I wanted to write about all the suffering, the poverty and the beauty. At first I was afraid, I was scared because I didn’t know how people would take to me. But there was a piece of me that wanted to come out, wanted to be free, and to learn, to help others find their own Joy, gratefulness, peace and humility? I started writing to encourage myself and many others. The truth forever remains that we're all brothers and sisters. I wanted to sprinkle some love and hope around the world, seasoned with a little bit of madness."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Edmund Black: "I guess every writer is inspired by different things, for me I get inspired by all the little things I experience on a daily basis. I get inspired by hatred, poverty, love, music, nature, grief, etc. I get inspired when I'm desperately searching for a life in a happier world. When I feel the desire to remind myself and others that we're all the same. Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Darks and lights in them. Part earth and sea, wind and fire. We have a universe within ourselves. We all can shine in the midst of dark moments and we have got to remember that, no matter the weight."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Edmund Black: "Have you ever met someone that makes you happy and smile, just from being around them? They make you feel good just from their laughter. They make you feel like all the problems or negativity that you may be facing during your daily activities, means nothing. They make you realize that it’s okay to make mistakes and still find ways to make things better. This might sound insane, but that’s poetry to me. It's healing, it's cathartic, it brings out strength from within. Trust me, you can write about anything and still come out with a win. Poetry is an avenue that lets you be free while holding the memory of the world in the palm of its hands."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Edmund Black: "I think my answer is going to shock you, Carlo. I DO NOT HAVE A FAVORITE WRITER OR POET besides you guys here on HP. But If I had to pick one famous poet, if it’s a must it would have to be Jesus Christ. He was a brilliant poet who had his work of art on every mind and heart in the world. His expression, His poems, His delivery and the depth of His thoughts. The poems are so relatable and beautiful. His words are addictive. Every time I am a little bit depressed and in need of a lift upon high, He is the first and only one that always comes to mind. He’s my inspiration…… Without question."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Edmund Black: "I love spending time in nature with my family; creating art in the backyard whenever I get a chance. Weight lifting and bicycling are two of my favorite hobbies, and plus I'm a foodie so I'm very passionate about my cooking ;) especially fresh seafood, hmmm so so so good. And lastly, I have a great enjoyment in fixing old houses and turning them into a home for families to enjoy for years to come, for a small fee ;) to me it’s a form of art. It’s a busy lifestyle."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing me to interview you, Edmund! I really enjoyed getting to know you better!”

Edmund Black: "Thank you so much Carlo and to everyone who has ever shown me love, support, encouragement, forgiveness, concern...at any point in my life. Your grace, compassion, and mercy does not go unnoticed. I love you all. Be gentle with each other my dear poet brothers and sisters. To all writers and poets, don’t boo yourself off the stage before anyone has a chance to see you shine. Keep dreaming and your visions alive because without us the world would be empty, sad and without a sound. Let’s create joy for hope and hope for humanity……I am all gratitude Carlo and family, thank you 🙏🏽"




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Edmund a little bit better. I know I did. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #4 in June!
~
Ugo Jul 2010
Sound the horn of the Maroon,
My people have lost their voices,
Bring Jesus back to walk on water,
The bricks crushed my people’s legs.

Get a cup of water from River Babylon,
The dirt is biting my people’s faces,
Let Mohammed ascend to Heaven once more,
It’s dark, my people need His blessings.

Tell Ceres to come plant a seed,
My people are starving, no food to eat,
Tell *Tlaloc to please shake the skies,
Rain drops, my people are thirsty.
Go tell this to the world, send them our cries-
The Earth has turned on their sister, little Haiti.

Ceres-goddess of agriculture
*Tlaloc- Aztec rain god
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<”Its your choice to have or not have the happiness in your life”>
Dorothy Aug 2014
I lay motionless in front of the fan blowing a warm breeze, any sudden movement will have me drenched in my sweat mixed with insect repellent that I had to spray all over my freshly bathed skin to avoid the spreading mosquito virus. I already have 29 bites,itching while counting each minute they allow us to have electricity see, here the government can shut off the power throughout the entire village as they please even in 100 degree weather heat. Don't take the electricity, eyes tightly shut..don't take the electricity, maybe if I concentrate hard enough, don't take the electricity, i continue to plead. It's funny how we can take things for granted. As I think this the fan stops. The heat instantly begins to engulf itself around me there's nothing else I can do so I continue to lay still, it's now silent and In the distance I can hear faint voices talking. Mom and dad and a couple of friends are reminiscing on the good ol times when they were all together in the past. It's been 18 years since then. And I'm glad to be here with them to see their emotions filled with happiness. Visiting old family members and friends, they greet with their warm embraces, I smile. And even though more then half the county's population is in poverty on top of not being in the best medical condition you can tell that they except what life gives them so they continue to keep moving to keep going to keep fighting with less crying. Man It's funny how we can take things for granted. Mom and dad aren't the richest in fact they aren't rich at all but it's encouraging to see them still giving. We've only been here 5 days and it seems like they gave everything they have, but I trust that Jehovah will continue to provide materially for them, so I'm not worried about they're survival when we break up with vacation and go back. I have faith. Reality of todays condition hits when you witness someone who has far less then yourself. Kids playing race car with a wooden bench and sticks is a sight to see. You wondered why you cried when mama got you that cheap plastic Barbie doll, you girls know what I'm talking about, the one with the legs that easily popped off. Instead of the one that came in a fancier box. It's funny how we can take things for granted, even as innocent little children. And at least you get the option to ride on a bus that cost 2 bucks with comfortable enough seats and cool ac. Talk about luxury. Try riding in a pick up truck packed to the brim in the summer heat knocking on the back of the drivers window seat to signal the next stop and then paying him 8 bucks. See It's funny how we take things for granted. Now that I'm older Im grateful for what I had while growing up. That I have parents who fought to get where they're at with Jehovah's help. Haiti is my love, I'll embrace my culture with open arms and warm tender cheek kisses. Stitch my people's pain inside the bottom of my sleeve. And weave the essence of Haitian on the outside rim of my beating heart. Knowing that, when this system comes to a complete end this, this is when my country Haiti will truly live again. For Jehovah said “I am creating new heavens and a new earth.”​— Ayiti ou se peyi mwen, menm si mwen pat fet ladan, map toujou renmen ou ne *** sa moun yo di mwen, konye a wap soufri men pa pou two lontan, kontinye kenbe djanm nan fen system la. As long as I am Jehovah's Witness I'll be there to witness Haiti's rebirth. And I will not take that for granted, not while in Jehovah's paradise new earth.
I went to visit my mothers land for the first time when I was 5 years old.
This second visit meant more to me then ever before.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry
Albania needs hellopoetry
Algeria needs hellopoetry
Andorra needs hellopoetry
Angola needs hellopoetry
Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry
Argentina needs hellopoetry
Armenia needs hellopoetry
Australia needs hellopoetry
Austria needs hellopoetry
Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry

The Bahamas needs hellopoetry
Bahrain needs hellopoetry
Bangladesh needs hellopoetry
Barbados needs hellopoetry
Belarus needs hellopoetry
Belgium needs hellopoetry
Belize needs hellopoetry
Benin needs hellopoetry
Bhutan needs hellopoetry
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Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry
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Brazil needs hellopoetry
Brunei needs hellopoetry
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Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry
Burundi needs hellopoetry

Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry
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Canada needs hellopoetry
Central African Republic needs hellopoetry
Chad needs hellopoetry
Chile needs hellopoetry
China needs hellopoetry
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Comoros needs hellopoetry
Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry  
Costa Rica needs hellopoetry
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Croatia needs hellopoetry
Cuba needs hellopoetry
Cyprus needs hellopoetry
Czech Republic needs hellopoetry

Denmark needs hellopoetry  
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Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry

East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry
Ecuador needs hellopoetry
Egypt needs hellopoetry  
El Salvador needs hellopoetry
Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry
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Fiji needs hellopoetry
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France needs hellopoetry

Gabon needs hellopoetry
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Georgia needs hellopoetry
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Ghana needs hellopoetry
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Haiti needs hellopoetry
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Vanuatu needs hellopoetry
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Venezuela needs hellopoetry
Vietnam needs hellopoetry

Yemen needs hellopoetry

Zambia needs hellopoetry
Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
Why? Because people from all over the world have found something here: a place of belongingness.

Please note that I am just a poet on hellopoetry who loves this website sincerely. I am not affiliated or personally related to the founders of hellopoetry.

I rarely ask to get my poems reposted, but I would encourage everyone to spread the message, possibly even outside of hellopoetry, for new active users and possible contributors.

It would break a lot of hearts if hellopoetry wouldn't exist anymore.
zebra Sep 2021
The countries with the largest ***** ***** length are:
Ecuador - 17.61 cm (6.93 inches)
Cameroon - 16.67 cm (6.56 inches)
Bolivia - 16.51 cm (6.5 inches)
Sudan - 16.47 cm (6.48 inches)
Haiti - 16.01 cm (6.3 inches)
Senegal - 15.89 cm (6.26 inches)
Gambia - 15.88 cm (6.25 inches)
Netherlands - 15.87 cm (6.25 inches)
Cuba - 15.87 cm (6.25 inches)
Zambia - 15.78 cm (6.21 inches)

The countries with the smallest ***** ***** length are:
Cambodia - 10.04 cm (3.95 inches)
Burma - 10.70 cm (4.21 inches)
Taiwan - 10.78 cm (4.24 inches)
Philippines - 10.85 cm (4.27 inches)
Sri Lanka - 10.89 cm (4.29 inches)
Hong Kong - 11.19 cm (4.41 inches)
Bangladesh - 11.20 cm (4.41 inches)
Thailand - 11.45 cm (4.51 inches)
Vietnam - 11.47 cm (4.52 inches)
Malaysia - 11.49 cm (4.52 inches)
~
Scientists claim that the size of the ***** does not matter, as long as the job gets done. But those scientists are probably Cambodian. If you liked my last list of the top 10 countries with the biggest *****’s, then you’ll love the list of the top 10 countries with the smallest *****’s. SO bring out the magnifying glass and tweezers, and let’s have ourselves a closer look.
~
Top 10 Countries With The Smallest penîses In The World or unhung hero's 

10. Japan
Researchers found out that the birthrate in Japan is so low, that adult diapers are sold more than baby diapers. The Japanese are packing a whopping 4.30 inches of sausage, I guess, if you can’t reach, you can’t reach, Sashimi anyone?

9. Sri Lankan men very well represent the size of their tiny little country., and their tiny little rooster. With an average size of 4.30 inches.

8. China
We have reason to believe that the Chinese were gifted with a clever mind, and cursed with a small *****, with an average ***** size of 4.29 inches, now we know why Bruce Lee was always so mad.

7. Philippines
Manny Pacquiao has been under the suspicion of using steroids over the years, and if that’s true, then his **** could very well be inverted by now. Cause the Philippines has an average size of 4.21 inches, now that’s a pretty small **** Pac man.

6. Taiwan
Taiwan’s home of lady boys and Alexander ****. But they need some more pay weight gee (Peh-oe-ji) in their pants with a ridiculous average ***** size of 4.20 inches. Women of Taiwan, I feel for you, but it’s okay, just book a ticket to congo.

5. Myanmar
As beautiful as it is, Myanmar, formerly known as Burma, is famous for their two kind of nuts. Betel nuts, and their little hanging nuts, with an average size of 4.19 inches.

4. India
The country who proudly shared its Yoga spirituality **** to the world, never shared the fact that Indian Men have a teensy weensy dickie, with an average size of 4.03 inches. Well we now know the truth. Namaste!

3. Thailand
home to the world’s largest gold Buddha, the largest crocodile farm, the largest restaurant, the longest suspension bridge, and the tallest hotel, I guess they’re trying to compensate for their national average of 4 inches in the ***** department.

2. Cambodia
50 % of the Cambodian population is under the age of 15. No wonder the average ***** size of Cambodian Men is just 3.95 inches. I’m surprised that Neverland ranch wasn’t built there. #RIP the King of *****

1. South Korea
You may have heard their fantastic K-pop, and you may be impressed with their Economical, financial and Military Growth, but I guarantee that you will never see South Korea the Same way ever again, as they hold the record for the nation with the smallest *****, with an average size of 3.8 inches of pure imagination, and you know North Korea can’t be much better, maybe that’s why they’re so secretive.
~

Hi Doctor.
I was wondering about the depth of the ******. I've read statistics that say that the average ****** is only 3 to 4 inches deep. This seems way too small to me, since the average ***** is considerably longer than that. Wouldn't that mean that most penises would crash into the ****** repeatedly during *******? Since this obviously doesn't happen, my question is this: does the ****** actually elongate during ******* to accommodate the entire length of the average *****?

Dear Ashley
DONT WORRY!!
Your ***** can be amazingly elastic and accommodating,
and if you're brave enough no matter how big, anything can be a *****.
Christine O’Bam Slam, MD
Documentary Poetics
Craig Harrison Jun 2014
We live in a time of uncertainty
No jobs
Climate change
Mass killings
warnings of pandemics
Where is our utopia
where is our heaven on Earth

1900's we had
San Fransisco's earthquake
McKinley was assassinated
First Nobel prize
The Tunguska Event
nothing as changed in my eyes

1910's we had
Spanish flu
The sinking of the unsinkable ship, the Titanic
and World War 1
What else is needed to say about this decade
nothing changed as the human race lived on

1920's we had
Discovery of penicillin
The great depression
and prohibition

1930's we had
Bonnie and Clyde
Hindenburg disaster
Discovery of Pluto
Al Capone imprisoned

1940's we had
World War 2
Mount Rushmore completed
Big bang theory formulated
Israel founded
Nothing changed but who knew

1950's we had
Castro becomes Dictator of Cuba
Laika the dog goes into space
Korean War began
History never changed and neither will the Human Race

1960's we had
The rise of the Berlin wall
First man on the moon
Vietnam War
Nothing changed and won't any time soon

1970's we had
First test tube baby
Tangshan Earthquake
Kent state shootings
Elvis died

1980's we had
Chernobyl
Tiananmen square massacre
Exxon oil spill
Nothing changed and never will

1990's we had
Oklahoma city bombing
Princess Diana died
Columbine massacre
World Trade Center bombed
End of the Cold War

2000's we had
Hurricane Katrina
Pluto reclassified
Obama elected
September 11th

2010's we had
Haiti Earthquake
Japan Earthquake
Bin Laden killed
BP oil spill
England riots
Brazil riots
China banned time travel.
We're only 4 years in.


**** sapiens are nearly 200,000 years old
nothing changed
and never will
Hope you like
Zenobia Jan 2010
When earth shatters at the door way
Cracks slowly widen
My heart does not waver
God is by my side
My tears flow to moisten the ground
To make the mud come together
Rebuild the walls that have fallen
My heart does not waver
Cause through all the heartache and pain
My God will lead the way
I place my hand in his
To lead me out of the darkest hours
My heart does not waver
Though love ones around me
Go to a better home
My heart does not waver
It shall be through the memories
That the Love of them
In the light we will shine on
My heart will not waver
No Fears, No Hatred, No Fist To Throw

God Is My All
My Heart Will Never Waver


(upwc)  2010-  Zenobia Lee/LadyZ710     1/14/2010
Man Mar 2021
how many protests have you watched now?
how many devolving into riots?
via violent actors, on either side
what was gained, for those we lost?
was it in vain?
did the pay outweigh the cost?
or was our venture defunct?
would civil disobedience had been better sought?
or a more brutal insurrection,
to rival those we've been taught?
just do like they'd wish
and lay down and die
Edmund black May 2018
Haiti you are a beautiful soul in nature. Frozen in time it’s like I’ve never left you three decades ago. Under all the destruction I still see your beautiful soul. Sadly with tears in my eyes I am speechless of how they’ve left you frozen without cause without reasons without merits. How shameful the civilized western can be to leave you naked, frozen without clothes. With tears in my eyes I am saddened to see you like this, With tears in my eyes I am still proud to be your son.

Perhaps one day I dream of seeing a Better you , a stronger you, and a Well dress you for the whole western world to see you unfrozen.

You are down but you are not out, you are drowning but you are not finished.
As painful as it may be for me , I know the pain for your people is much greater than mine , for I get to leave you as I please to a better place.

The hypocrisy from the western world, give me freedom or give me death , I assume it was only meant for the Caucasian world. Because together the people of Haiti have accomplished just that , for the freedom of your people , for that very reason they’ve been rebellious against your people for wanting to be free, for wanting to raised your young under a flag we all can be proud and called your our own.

Sadly they’ve brainwashed our brothers and sisters around the western world, make them believe you are barbaric, you are a race of barbarism, how sad to see in this modern world you have been left frozen in time. Still I am proud to call you my own.

If I can help it , the fight is not yet over. Shameful of myself for not realizing you were in need of my attention sooner than I’ve realized. Words cannot describes the pain I feel for you , words cannot describes the pain I feel for the people of Haiti. Today I wrote in stone I will indeed seek for a better You and I will not rest. Until then I beg you to keep fighting and
                          STAND STRONG FROZEN.
Please brothers and sisters let’s stand strong together eith the people of Haiti. We can support the people of Haiti by vacationing in Haiti to help them grow their economy! Let’s show some love., let’s give them hope .
Michael DeVoe Feb 2010
The weight of the world can be found
In the circles under my eyes
I spend my nights awake
Worried about the wrongs everyone else is suffering
I imagine what it would be like to be someone else
For so long I start writing rap songs harder than DMX
And I'm from the suburbs where no one comes out of adversity
Because there is no adversity
There is success
Or there is suicide
I worry for the future of ex lovers
Not just mine everybody's
Will they ever wake up from their depression
Will they love again
Will they smile tomorrow
I stay up worrying so late
My mundane work day is my only place to write
Or sleep, but I choose writing
Because I'm like the rest of my in-between-generations generation
We don't expect to live past thirty-five
So when I die the only thing my mom will have of me
Are these words I write
And I'd rather them be a bit more
Then love poems to girls who wouldn't remember meeting me
I want to write about important things
I want the things that make midnight
The start of my day
To be the things that make my pen run dry during it
I worry about hobo cities
Full of veterans, drug addicts, and bachelor degrees
And sometimes all three at the same time
I want to learn how to crochet
So I can make a blanket for every baby
Going home with a loving mom
Too poor to turn on the heater
This isn't a poem full of metaphors or similes
This is just true stories
From people who can't sugar coat their truths
Because sometimes you just can't get the blood out of the carpets
And your kids grow up playing hot wheels
On the stain their mom left when she left
Sometimes thirty-five to life is a *** deal
And it ends your life
Sometimes thirty-five to life is an excuse to get one
And sometimes thirty-five to life is the only thing keeping you alive
Because three square meals a day
Is a luxury you've never been afforded
I built a wailing wall in my house
And I have yet to put a prayer in it for myself
Not because I'm self righteous
Or perfect
But because I haven't gotten around to it
I just know there are so many others
Who could use the extra prayer more than I could
The way I figure it if no one prays for me
And I don't pray for myself
That should lighten the load a bit
And I've put in so many prayers for other people
The wall might just fall through the floor
And land in the living room of the lady who wears sunglasses
She wears them day and night, outdoors and in
I worry about her the most
More than AIDS ridden starving kids in Africa
More than Tsunami Victims
More than broken limbs and missing babies in Haiti
I worry about the lady who wears sunglasses
Because she knows no other form of love
Than the kind he gives her
And the closest she's ever felt to real love
Was the day he bought her those new sunglasses
To cover the bruises he gave her
The circles under my eyes get darker and darker
With every passing hour
And that's not a metaphor
You can see it if you turn on the lights
And the world is getting darker and darker
With every wrong that is suffered
And that is a metaphor
But that doesn't make it a lie
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
It was the day the Earth shook
And opened up like a hungry beast
Swallowing those who became victims
And buried them with a fury

They lost  those they treasured
A father, a mother, a brother, a sister
A daughter, a son, gone forever
Wondering why this happens now

The dead now litter the streets
So many souls are there in torment
And the living are waiting for help
Needing their fellow man at this time

Still more bodies are found in the rubble
Shed a tear for Haiti, the very young and the old
Criminals died with the police that watched them
Thank God that in Heaven they will find peace


copyright Chris Smith 2010
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Jun 2020
AMERICA, THE BEAUTIFUL?

Were you aware that our nation opposed Haiti's revolution for democracy in the early 1800s; that our nation's war against Mexico that began in 1846 resulted in our taking half of Mexico for ourselves; that our nation defeated Spain ostensibly to liberate Cuba, but actually established a military base on the island and furtively gained de facto control of its puppet government; that our nation seized Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and Guam; that our nation had fought a brutal war to subjugate the Phillipines; that our nation had opened Japan for trade with us with threats and gunboats; that our nation created an "Open Door" policy with China to exploit it economically; that our nation engineered a revolution against Colombia to create the nation of Panama so we could build the canal through it; that our nation sent 5,000 Marines in 1926 to Nicaragua to counter their democratic revolution; that our nation in 1916 intervened in the Dominican Republic for the fourth time; that our nation in 1915 intervened in Haiti for the second time, and so on. Imperialism, not democracy, steered our nation's decisions and movements.

Did any of you learn about, let alone study extensively, any of these flagitious Ameican acts and policies as you sat and squirmed in your high school American history class? My surmise is that you did not. But I bet you were required in at least one of your classrooms sometime between 1st and 12th grade to stand at attention, as it were, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance as you saluted the flag in the corner. My riposte: What does it matter if our flags are waving, if our spirits are flagging?

Epilogue: Most importantly, never forget that it was the two evils of slavery and genocide that propelled our nation into what once was the most influential nation on Earth.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard
Hawks has been a poet and a human-rights advocate for his entire adult life.
I shouldn’t be drinking coffee.
I shouldn’t be reading the news.
It makes me anxious, and it’s not only the chemical interaction.
Somehow, I associate it with “adulthood”—reading the news,
Drinking coffee—I can’t tell you how many days of the last few
Years have been spent entirely in this fashion. The coffee
Growing cold and the news colder still. I don’t even taste the
black, fluid drops. I don’t hear the screams of people I read
about. I just want to hold on to something—so I raise the glass
to my lips. I can’t say

the shocking words when my mouth’s full; I can’t tell

about my experience, my privilege, when I’m drinking it.


The production of the commodity

creates a line from some equatorial region
to central America, and my mouth.
I think about the Autumn I worked in a corn-seed
sorting facility. What a short experience—
and yet,
something that weighs heavy on my imagination.
I was a temp worker.
I chose to work there out of shame and guilt for having
missed the deadline for college enrollment.
I could have done anything else; but there were people
there who wanted nothing more than a job. They needed
to be
there.
And I think of the people involved in producing coffee beans

in much the same way.
Removed
from the thing they’re making, as the raw materials are shipped
to places you pay workers more.
Why shouldn’t I swallow with difficulty when faced with the pro-
spect of a person supporting their entire family with the type
of work
I did
reflexively, as a choice?

Now I sit here, reading about North African riots,
a region, where coffee is produced—
ARABICA COFFEE— and I think about what’s sitting
in my cup, how I have
spent more money than they make in a day
to buy
one container

and sit here
for an afternoon
doing nothing but reading about their families’ misery.

I am a human parasite.

And like the bedbugs that have crawled meticulously
between my mattress and bedframe, hiding in a safe spot
until they can come out, undetected, and **** my potency.

I sit here, in the comfort of an apartment furnished
and paid for by my father who grows corn in a highly-
mechanized, agricultural society. I take more and more,
festering to the size of a blistering, red dot
blinking in the dark, in the form of the record light on
my voice recorder.
I expect so much more from myself, simply because of
this position of luxury.

But I don’t take time to think about my reaction to these
stories or how I am involved in them, in shaping their plots.
I’m even eating more now
as I’ve nearly lost my concern with avoiding certain super-
markets.
I smile at the greeters, make small talk with the cashiers
whom I am openly exploiting. But it’s ok, because
I worked for a month at a cornseed manufacturing
facility
and I read Marxist Ideology,
and I know about the Arab Spring
and I was against American intervention in Libya
and I disdain the air strikes from robotic planes
(unauthorized by congress)
and I disdain congress
and I support gay marriage
(I stopped eating chicken).
I don’t drive to the suburbs of my city.
I walk and ride my bicycle as much as I feel like.
I use public transportation at times.
I try to get to know women.
I practiced safe ***, once.
I write poetry.
I tell my mom I love her.
I bought my nieces birthday presents.
I’m not overly nice to people of different
ethnicities.
I voted for Obama.
I’m trying.
All these things make it seem less bad
to smile at the cashier.
But then I think about my black studies Professor
who used a walker to come to class
because she fell
and spelled the word Amendment “Admendment”
on the board when talking about Reconstruction.
I think about the war in Syria.
I think of people dying from cholera in Haiti, in 2012
A.D.
I think about fracking and oil spills and …
irrevocable damage to Indian reservations.
I think about football coaches molesting children
and people eating fried butter.
I read about people
upset
with a movie
who protest in the streets for days.

It makes me realize I shouldn’t smile at anyone.
I shouldn’t be drinking coffee.
I shouldn’t be reading the news.
Olivia Robinson Dec 2013
bindi's grace the top of her mocha forehead.
wrist draped with bangles.      African soul.
style so Afrocentric
             afro so black panther
fist high in the air she is black pride. she embraces the motherland with open arms and is proud of her heritage. music notes hidden in the blacks of her eye. she is music. hiphop and r&b.;
tupac's  lyrics ingraved on her tongue. words of left eye instilled in her brain.
              music gives her life.
voice of an angel yet  she stays mute. black ink at her fingertips and a notebook always at her side. she is a lyrisit. she is sassy. press the wrong button and she's gone for a moment but will soon comeback to earth. a beautiful quiet vibrant soul she is indeed.  stubborn and mean at times but still as sweet as the refreshing taste of lemonade on a hot summers day.
she is Africa. she is India. she is Haiti. she is black pride. she is music. she is poetry. she is wonderful. she is comical. she is lovely. she is classy.
she is my big sister.                                     O.Rob.
my sisters been asking me to write her poem FOREVER! with her being a poet, I'd think she'd understand that i can't just sit and write a poem, the words must come to me. finally they did and today's her birthday so I thought I'd give it to her as a gift.
So I think I am just writing for the sake of writing tonight, and with that being said let me just say this.

As this ship pitches slowly but surely and we make our steam for the prospect ahead, I am overcome with an anxiousness and desire to leave the ocean and begin my work. I had a dream of going to Haiti the other night. It was a disturbing site to see. Crumbled buildings covering broken bodies, covered in the tears and blood, casting fear of the unknown into those that were unfortunate enough to be left behind. An already broken, already poverty stricken country now sent further into depths of disparity. Children sit on cracked side walks eating mud cakes lacking all nutritional value, only to fill their empty bellies with dirt and mud. Mothers are still in search of their children and loved ones.
I see the pain in their eyes, yet I know that at this moment only my prayers go out to them. I desire to go, to bring peace, hope, and if not any of the above, maybe just rest to their restless wandering.

I need your help. I need you to desire a change. Not just in Haiti where the need is obvious, but in the Dominican, in Turkey, in Cambodia, in Mozambique. I need you to see that they need you. If you yourself are unwilling, or unable to go; if you yourself are not willing or not able to get on that plane, that boat, that horse, that bus, or whatever it takes, and go be with them physically, emotionally, and spiritually, then I need you to support this cause. We are a blessed nation, a blessed people and we take so much for granted. We have a choice of not just what we will eat, but where "want" to eat. We have the choice to buy our Ipods, our movies, our magazines, our make-ups, and our clothes. These people don't. They don't know what they will eat. They don't even know that they will eat. Their clothes are torn and in shambles. They might not even have a single pair of shoes to protect their feet, yet I know that some of us have more shoes than we know what to do with.
I need you to recognize that there are people in countries like china that will work 18 hours a day in order to make your clothing, your shoes, your toys, and at the end of that day not even be able to afford what they have just made for you with their tired hands.
Do you recognize the cost of our lifestyle?
Will you help me bring something back to those hands? Will you help bring a small light into their world? Will you choose to love someone you have never met? Will you choose to care?
Because I do. I choose to walk with love for people in this world. I choose to care about the people that I have never met, and I am ready to go and give back to the world that has given so much to me. I want to be part of the revolution in this world, and I will do it in the name of the Lord Jesus. I will walk by faith, with hope in my heart and a promise on my lips. I will feed those that I can, clothe the naked, and care for the sick. I need you to want to as well. And if you do, then you can help this race against time. Support me on this mission. I need your prayers, I need your gifts, I need you.
Will you choose to help this world?
Support me on the World Race at

WilliamDiefenbach.TheWorldRace.org

~William Diefenbach
Contact me @ WeDiefenbach@gmail.com
Kyle Oct 2013
A new dawn has surfaced,
I woke up and realised I was wrapped tightly in your warm embrace,
I gently pushed your arms away,
Headed to our brightly lit kitchen,
Fixed you marshmallows, pancakes, muffins,
Marmalade,
Everything that could revitalise your day,
And then I remembered what you said,
'Babe, never leave me more than 5 inches away'.
I giggled and decided to return to your warm embrace,
But there you were standing,
Shambling like a Haiti Zombie,
Hair messy,
Breath as foul as Smaug and Shrek,
But there I was wanting to close our 2 metres gap,
Till' no spaces between us were left,
But I halted from my tracks, and said,
‘Baby, would you like some coffee to ease your groggy state?’
‘Who knows what tomorrow’s dawn may bring’
‘But my love for you will never dwindle from change’

I wept as the last pages of your diary was soaked in red,
From the sliced vein of my wrist when I was in a fit of rage,
With the broken glasses of our photo frame,
Taken whilst we were at the Carpathian cliffs,
Alas I could not capture your fall,
And I could not stop recalling how your hands gently slip away from my palm,
You ended up in a coma, failing to respond despite my desperate calls,
Nor from kisses that could awake you magically like Snow White with her company of dwarves,
Know that I am forever yours,
The same bespectacled spectre, Always haunting the campus halls,
Waiting to steal your attention and leave me petrified,
From your Basilisk and Medusa like gaze,
You were a personified patriot of beauty,
With hazel scarf, scarlet hair, pink lips,
Seraphim in disguise,
And what an angel you must be, to fall from the atmosphere,
And defy society’s tainted rules of attraction to fall for an underdog,
Though I find it ironic that your name was Dawn,
It seems like my sorrow was fated all along,
But I do not wish to survive another dawn without me in your arms,
How silly am I to forget about the running water in the tub,
The portal to bridge our gaps,
Not another step was taken,
When I felt a familiar warmth behind my back,
Followed by a disembodied voice which sounded like a ‘Hello’
Or was it,

‘*******’.
Do we have any idea?
Have we even got a clue?
Can it be that we don't give a ****
what others are going through.

Are we so wrapped up in selfish mode?
So devoted to our own.
That we should sit back and watch
as others are gnawed down to the bone.

Should it be that our own offspring
if they were cast away so far?
Would we worry about that pipeline
bringing fuel to run our car?

Or would we stand aloft in horror
as they were thrown unto the ground?
Or for fuel thats cheap and plentiful,
is it ok to make no sound?

We hear about disasters.
Tsunami strikes upon Japan.
Earthquakes raging out in Haiti
Watch death befall our fellow man.

Throw donations in a bucket
at the supermarket doors,
then forget because of shopping.
but we have paid towards their cause.

Could you ever even fathom?
Your children crying as they play,
not for Barbies or Play-stations
but for the pain to go away.

Never asking for the latest
made by Hamleys or Mattel
rather just an handfull of food
to help beat the starvation battle.

Wash it down with poison water
from a river filled with ****
or collect in rusty tin cans
from a worn and stagnant pit.

If this was the plight of our children
things would surely be said.
We would try to move a mountain
rather than our young be dead.

Could you ever really imagine?
Could you ever really get,
that a million hits on You-Tube
turn endangered species into pets?

What if someone could ask on face-book
about your daughter or your son,
saying"It looks so cute and cuddly,
"go on e-bay and buy me one."

If only we could all be happy,
not feel a need to own the place.
If we could learn to be contented
by a childs smiling face.

Treat the world with awe and wonder.
Treat its creatures with respect.
Treat each other in this same way.
Treat nobody with neglect.

Then perhaps we may push together,
make our Governments do right.
Let's lead the World with people power,
no more starvation or blight.

Let's be less materialistic
let us have a life of worh
Not by owning all we see,
rather sharing this our earth.
26th January 2012
Marcus Lane Jan 2010
Stressed to breaking point
Mother Earth strains and crumbles
Swallowing her own


© Marcus Lane 2010
mEb Jun 2010
Disasters enfold, plates shift,
our mother has waken,
maybe a sign of the times,
or maybe I'm mistaken?
A 7.0 scale mark,
can somebody call a medic?
Violence descends from 200 years,
and I can't find a doorway in hear
She stays breathing,
moving, hungry,
we all live on top of her gears
If we grind them hard enough
she'll represent our ducts real tears
To those whom lost their lives in the Haiti Earthquake 2010
Jemma Mar 2017
It’s a new day dawning yet we’re still living in the past
Embracing colonialism and saving the rest for last
You know, the rest meaning the other cultures because you think they don’t matter
But it’s time for that glass of classism and racism to shatter
It’s funny how when I go to University I’m rarely taught by people who look like me
No matter how much the white lecturers may try, they will never understand my cultural identity
So don’t get mad if I doze off in your lecture because I just can’t relate
If I speak up I may start the great debate
Learning about Ancient Greeks and those who lived in Rome is fine
But what about the indigenous people of the Caribbean or stories of what went through the slave’s mind?
University is more than just learning about what makes Western culture great
There’s more to this world that we can truly celebrate
America and Haiti both had a revolution
So if we want to make a change we need to come up with a solution
It’s a new day dawning and we plan to decolonise
Despite our obstacles, we will rise
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
I want to first thank all my
supporters and readership.
I will read as soon as
I have the time and I can
give your work the attention it deserves.

I've been overwhelmed.
I have to make my presents this
Christmas. But I found out I'm in
excellent company...

FROM APPALACHIA WITH LOVE

Gra'ma Annie had a mission
to help children in need
she lives up in the hills
where they grow their food from seed.

They have no running water
no facilities indoors
still heat and cook with wood
don't buy much from stores
there are folk so destitute
they still have dirt floors.

Li'l Annie was a scrapper
90 pounds if soaking wet.
But her heart is just enormous
as big as one can get!

She found out 'bout a drive
for children overseas
in Africa and Asia
Haiti and the Belize

How the people in those countries
had no presents for to give
their children at Christmas
they could barely live!

She contacted the charity
and said she'd send some toys
as many as possible
to the poor girls and boys.

Annie had no phone
so she walked far and wide
and asked all the hillfolk
throughout the countryside
to whittle and to paint
toys in which to pride!

Those people got together
and carved ponies and dolls
that had joints that moved
and real hair that falls!

They whittled and sanded
painted with rainbow hues
and when they had delivered them
it made world news!

The children overseas
who got them still recall
they kept their homemade presents...

THEIR FAVORITES OF ALL!


MY FATHER "NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS"*

My father was a child
in a place called Isle la Monte
winter's are quite brutal
in that part of Vermont.

His family were farmers
they lived off the land
they had gardens and stored their food
they worked hard with their hands

They had to really struggle
to make the frayed ends meet
dad walked 14 miles total
through the snow and sleet
to get to his schoolhouse
sometimes with frozen feet

Every year at Christmas time
his mom would be in tears
she would never say much
but stated that she feared

there would be no Christmas
no presents and no tree
it was always the same.
Grandpa would agree.
So the children went to bed
every Christmas eve.

But they weren't sad
because they always knew
that Santa was coming
and so they weren't blue.

Sure 'nuf in the morning
they'd tumble out of bed
and in the once-bare corner
there was a *tree instead!


There were many presents
most carved and painted things
grandma got the practical stuff
no perfume or rings.

But the Christmas meal was cooking
and all through the home
the smell... that sumptuous dinner...

well. That's another poem...!

But before the feast was eaten
grandfather said Grace
and thanked the blessed Lord
and ALWAYS SOUGHT HIS FACE.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/23/2015


MERRY CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY!!!

I still have presents to make...
see you SOON!


~~~<☆>~~~
Both of these stories are TRUE.


~~~<☆>~~~
Peach Jul 2014
This love is so restless
It's making us reckless
99.9% of the time
Oh but baby you're mine...you're mine

We sip our way into the wee hours of day
Drinking every bit of champagne
Hoping to sustain
Dying embers of the flame
Take me back to the night we missed our flight
We were lying in the sand
Playing games of naked twister unplanned
Every demand was issued like a command
Call me crazy but I loved each reprimand

One day maybe
I'll be your leading lady
Until then, baby don't call me baby
I lost my soul somewhere down in Haiti
Love me like crazy

I was losing the fight
Holding tight to the edges of fragile delight
Moaning between every bite
You had me trembling at the increase
Racing fast like lightening towards release
Prime and ready to please
But only if you please
My only goal is to appease
Raising the heat by degrees
Wearing what's left of my chemise
I'm far from a trainee,
A tease waiting anxiously on my knees

One day maybe
I'll be your leading lady
Until then, baby don't call me baby
I lost my soul somewhere down in Haiti
Love me like crazy

Love me like crazy...

© 2014 Peach
Random conversation leads to random memories. Random memories lead to random writing.
Mishka Jan 2014
We are the stars that you ignore in search for brighter lights to guide you home
Safe and warm and ignorant you stay
We were the children born from orchids, into a meadow
and our lives have dried up, weeds thriving on our desperate longing for home
The only music we hear are the sounds of death: gunshots and screams
the genre that only people who have a warm smile to come home to can listen to at a music store
We are the people of Palestine, Syria, Egypt, Libya, The Congo, Haiti, India, Bangladesh, North Korea
The diaspora who no longer have roots anywhere on earth
we have been dug up and shat out by the soil that we sprung from
Our kin have scratched blood from our skin
We are the forgotten, the avoidees, the people who make you uncomfortable
who force you to leave your little world so painstakingly built for you to live in and die as a result of
Go, live the lives you were destined for while we dream of them
Go, have the freedom you think you have and we think we will get
We are goldfish in a bowl that has never been cleaned
We will never escape
This time,
You mistimed,
And went too far,
Why on them,
Why them,
Why not the Americans,
Or on them,
Why not the British,
Or on them,
Last time I said it,
And I fell victim to lambast,
You had destroyed Mozambique,
By your terrible storms,
The other time,
I said it again,
You are racist, xenophobic and full of favoritism,
And your stubborn supporters again did it,
Lambasted me badly,
You had brought to us your terrible xenophobia,
And today why Lord,
Why on the people of Haiti,
Why on poor Haiti.

— The End —