"npr" poems
Wussup, professional Latina?
Diversity been good 2 U?
Water warm enough 4 U?
Shaking down enuf rich gringos
to fund your Non-Profit?
(*speak against capitalismo here*)
Got time for la Revolución after your pedicure today?
(mention the border here)
still watching Oprah, Abuela?
heard from your third ex-husband recently?
Wussup consummate professional.
(*turn on NPR here*)
Got nail polish? Got car waxed? Got investments?
(take a networking business lunch here)
Have you streaked your hair enuf?
(mention indigenismo here)
I hope you are caring well for all the nietos
and still have time to be a tiburona
(insert italicized Spanish word here)
How are all your gente ?
(*mention mujeres fuertes here*)
Hey Latina - when did you move out of the barrio ?
(*mention La Raza here*)
Mujer Latina—wussup.
how is Gringolandia workin' out 4 U ?
(turn off Univision here)
'cause if the oppression gets too bad
you could always move back
to Venezuela
or Chihuahua
or San Juan, or...
(*mention Trump here*)
...Miami?
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:01 PM UTC
And all your heros are gone,
but you refuse to take off the mask.
A loudmouth, a capitalist,
with greasy hair and a golden toothpick,
he is your enemy
he is your oppressor and
he sits upon a throne of coal and blood
with armed security
and a nation built for him,
to protect him and his money,
a police state, pat downs on the corner,
murdered in the street,
your daughters gotta eat.
He grows fatter and fatter still,
he loves complacency,
he loves contentment,
he invests heavily in both.
He knows we are strong,
he knows we are many,
he knows he must divide us to win,
he knows we're his greatest weapon,
so he created Fox News,
he created TMZ,
stealthily,
we didn't even notice,
he created NPR and KVIE,
he gave them masks that look like ours.
They look poor,
they look starved,
they look like us, but they have a different master.
Our master is the earth,
our master is our coworker, our neighbor, our mailman,
our dishwashers, our bus drivers, our minimart clerks.
Our masters are not the TV,
our masters are not the radio,
our masters are not the New York Times,
they are not National Geographic,
they are not BP,
they are not our principals, our administrators,
our policemen, our CEOs, our investors, our bankers,
our insurance providers,
these people hate us,
they hate us because they can't squeeze blood from a stone,
and
the rivers are running dry,
the factories are standing still,
the people, our masters and our friends,
they're in the streets,
they're shouting "BLACK LIVES MATTER"
they're shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE"
"NO MORE WAR FOR OIL"
**** THE POLICE"
"DOWN WITH THE 1%"
and soon
and soon,
The False Gods will grow so fat
and we'll have nothing left to eat but them,
and on that day we'll sit down to dine
and it won't be civilized and it won't be pretty,
their blood, our blood, will feed the rivers and their flesh will feed our hungry children and their money will burn and warm our chilled bones but we can't wait,
we can't wait for this to happen because everyday they grow stronger,
we grow weaker and the river becomes dryer.
The Bourgeois is our enemy,
they say 'All Lives Matter'
they say 'Work Hard and Your Dreams Will Come True'
BUT THEY LIE
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
"She did the laundry
in the mirror of me
I saw myself in
the mirror and disagreed
with the smell,
The thought of you
was beautiful,
but I was wrong,
and a feeling of discontent
-ment
came over me,"
Misspellings
Mispronunciations
An unconquerable world
of big money
I parted ways with the large
and saw another even larger world,
One that was intelligent and reads
the Wall Street Journal, listens to NPR,
and says "wow" at the sound of hearing
one million dollars, or upon hearing about
San Francisco start-ups,
or Silicon Valley.
Or the opposite, in some ways, but still very
similar to - Virginia Woolf.
whose book on feminism
which I'm unable to explain fully other than
to say that she suggests
that women only need
a bedroom, money, clothes, etc.,
or rather, less than etc.
in that, they need little, but only the bare supplies.
That they should be able to supply themselves with what they need
for when their husband, which, you know, is not required, in her eyes,
for when he separates from her
and leaves her 'in the dust,' alone without anything,
perhaps only with a child, or in another instance, estate-less,
with only a white dress, really more of kitchen-robe than anything else;
like Virginia Woolf says, we should really try and dismantle the patriarchy
that we write and tell about. Reader, what do you after reading a story, article, or book on radical or moderate feminism say? The boys, like me, who will tell, or, try to tell their perspective of the book and say to the closest person around them, "I just read a great book by Virginia Woolf, she brings to mind an image of a university with white buildings and ends of roofs of university buildings leading along to the the main hall of architecture buildings, with sidewalks pristine and underneath people walking in their sweaters, collegiate, and later to make their way to art history classes in the fall evening. So, like Virginia Woolf, who makes you ask why you're not at the Parthenon, but instead are inside of your house, in a city that you don't want to be in, at a hospital, in your apartment, or surrounded by whoever, she nevertheless gives you have a feeling of longing-ness and a strong emotion of want. Virginia Woolf when will we go to Greece together? What do you know about Athens and classical architecture, I nearly beg you.
December 30th 2018 7:11am
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
There Is A Reason ihop Is Open 24 Hours A Day.
It's Like A MmMmMm. Pancakes!
Like A Mouth Watering & The Sound Of Fork Scraping Plate, Kind Of Morning, Isn't It?
Sunny Saturday Morning In April, With NPR Playing Over The Radio, And The Sound Of Bacon Sizzling, Kind Of Morning.
Take It From Me.
Watched A Heavy Hearted Seventeen Year Old Sister, Ask For Breakfast Ar Midnight, And The Hours Spent Talking Away Her Heart Ache With Mom Was Just A Side Effect Of The Full Stomach.
Stumble Into This.
With Bloodshot Eyes, And Ripped Up Jeans, 5am And Hung Over.
The Waitress Will Always Take Care Of You.
It's Like Her Duty, Along Side Taking Orders And Refilling Empty Coke Glasses, She'll Serve You
Blackberry,
Blueberry,
Chocolate Chip,
Strawberry Strung,
Bananas,
And Whip Cream Shaped Like A Smiley Face,
Without Any Questions Asked.
Pancakes Are The Breakfast Of Champions. So You Remember This. Your Fork And Knife Battle Weapon, Ready To Turn This 15 Minute Meal Into A Valiant Reawakening.
And Remember You Are King Today.
Staff And Stone, And No One Can Destroy You.
Eat Up, And Be Strong.
Smile.
I Dare You.
Lick Your Fingers, And Ask For Seconds.
This Is Life, And Asking For Another Helping Has Never Been A Bad Thing.
Bite Your Tongue, Drink Back This Moment. I'd Ask You To Taste It, If Your Mouths Weren't Already Full.
I Know, There Will Be Tequila &Wine; Bottles You'll Try To Drown Yourself In.
But I've Learned Something Sticky Sweet Seems To Heal The Broken Edges Just A Little Better.
Daddy Always Said There Was A Reason The Light On The 'Waffle House' Sign Never Went Out. A Warm Plate & A Smile Is Sometimes All You Need To Make A Place Home.
The Next Time You Get Offered Pancakes, Consider It A Token Of Appreciation.
Always Say Yes.
Even If You're Not Hungry.
Take A Bite. You Won't Regret It.
I Promise.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
He didn't earn the name Talk Radio
by digging on NPR,
he earned the name
for being a stupid ******
that never shuts up.
Talk wasted his physically
fit years chasing shallow ***
and creating a seduction ritual,
requiring a lighthouse at
Lake Hefner.
Now he's grappling with his
late 20s, trying to retain what's
left of his hair,
trying to **** in his massive belly,
that resembles a pregnant lady,
more than a typical beer enthusiast.
Speaking of pregnant women,
he confessed a ****** obsession
centered around their tummy.
He asked if I felt the same,
I said,
"I guess they're cute,
but it is in no way a ******
thing. I don't want to
go to town on their
baby lump."
Spending my weekend with Talk,
made me thankful for my ability
to think rationally.
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 4:58 PM UTC
I self-indulged—
For me a rare
Lapse, an unexpected
Slide to materialism.
Repenting already,
My selfishness.
I bought myself
Internet Radio.
How could I resist?
E-Tail has made it so easy.
GOTO Amazon Electronics.
•Amazon.com: Electronicswww.amazon.com/electronics-store/b?ie=UTF8... Amazon.com, Inc. Online shopping from a great selection at Electronics Store. ... Electronics. Shop for TV & Video, ... Featured Offers in Electronics ... Electronics Categories • ($“Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!$ Ads in the middle of the freaking poem!”)
The omnipresent marketplace:
Shop at home in your pajamas,
Pay for it with keystrokes,
Go back to sleep.
FOR SALE: Hail to thee,
Oh bittersweet Credo of Capitalism!
I finally broke down,
Accepting the fact that
RADIO: once a wireless marvel;
Now, a fading media option,
Its broadcast range
Not only shrunk, but
Signal reception, downright poor.
So, I finally broke down
Bought a radio that actually works.
So what I want to know
Is NPR so full of itself that
They go so far to find some
British-accent guy to read
Sports summaries?
I am listening to some
Pompous Pommy poofter,
At KBOS, Boston, Massachusetts,
Nigel Longshanks, himself,
Recapping “The Run for the Roses,”
Kentucky Derby homestretch,
Missed NBA semi-final foul shot &
The freakish mojo comeback of
Yankee Baseball Bad Boy: A-ROD.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
i am grateful for stretch denim on days
when
**** it
is a fashion statement
for lavender laundry detergent
because that smell reminds me of the home i've built in my head
for tea at
2 a.m.
when all the things i've done race in my head
because the next morning, i usually get my **** together
for colds
because they make eating an entire roll of cinnamon buns
completely justifiable
for the mountains that surround me
for NPR and good, rated M fanfiction
for def poetry when i can't find the right words
for finding a pack of cigarettes when it is only
11:30pm on a thursday night
and i am well past drunk in a slightly damp armchair
for harry potter and neil gaiman
for when twenty dollars fills up my gas tank
for my grandma's potato salad and biscuits with honey
for feminist zines that make me want to smash the patriarchy
for burts bees chapstick and jasmine-green tea
for friends who let me cry on their
bedroom floors
for books that keep me entertained
(even if that means me crying in my bathtub while reading them)
for courtney love and joan jett because those *******
have ridden in my car with me over many
heart-breaks
for well-water and sulfate free red wine
for johnny cash and new orleans and whiskey
for salt-- because that **** can wash away anything
for farmer's markets and co-ops
for bottles of water and for cookie dough
when my mouth
is the consistency of cotton and my mind is a little bit gone
for warm days in January and cold days in September
for breakfast and for hikes that begin at five a.m.
for summer nights drunk on wine and a little too much fire
for friends who call me 'momma bear' and for friends that call me 'baby bird'
for poems that give you cold chills
and flowers stolen from my neighbor's yard
for skin that smells like the sun and sage
for beeswax candles
and the smell of clean laundry
for days when i wake up and realize
i could have died on a bathroom floor
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
terry gross has a purple unicycle
she keeps locked away in the far right corner of her basement
all things considered
on
All Things Considered
Terry Gross doesn't mention it much
but terry gross has a dream
and that dream revolves around that
purple unicycle
she Sees it In her Sleep
it calls to her
terry
Terry
TErry
why have you forsaken me terry
remember the good old days
the travelling circus
Vladimir
the strong man
why must you leave me in this temporal hell
terry gross listens not
she has a new life now
NPR will protect her
if only she could protect them
.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
From a straight back wooden chair, I see
a cyan-blue ceramic bowl filled with
tangerines next to a desktop radio
tuned to NPR &
out the kitchen bay window
birds bicker over seeds
overflowing a feeder,
& a raccoon scours
the earth below --
I keep in mind the fact
all of these things will
be absent from my
sight one
day.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
I am like a plane
I read somewhere or heard somewhere
I think on NPR
about what it's like to see the world!
from a plane window.
Imagining is having the sights before you!
from a plane window.
The clouds and the blue blue blue
It's the atmosphere.
Dear God! You're actually flying
Except you're in a whites only plane.
Oh! If only it could be bottled and given to the masses
Ms. Marlowe introduced me to Prometheus.
To search for a way
to have what you imagine in yr dreams and in books and hopes
to be before you
is a ropebridge.
It only snaps in the movies baby!
If you're any different
and it snaps for you,
you got death.
Which is what you wanted all along,
no?
When I was a child my mind was ratchet like a plane in turbulence
it is rickety
the space between Trinidad and Tobago makes me readjust my insides and outsides
Climbing Climbing he shakes and flatlines
He becomes a hero he knew all along
Modern Medicine can make freed slaves become the mothers and fathers of the rice cripsies
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
This week we talked over beers,
and my mother told us a ghost story.
We each have dreams that plague us
again and again, over years,
threatening to creep their way into our realities.
(these are our ghosts.)
My dream was always deep blue and black,
of my body surrounded by water, though I did not drown,
or even gasp.
I was ensnared in moving parts that I had no power over,
held underwater in this churning machine,
not quite a victim but certainly not a hero.
Sunshine was my eventual respite, as was the cushion of my bed,
but the morning always seemed like a fragile gift, then.
My mother dreamed of her teeth, over the years.
She dreamed that they were the traitors inside her,
decaying and betraying,
perhaps cackling as they fell to the floor or
just lying there like bones.
My mother’s delayed trip to the dentist promised her a bridge,
or an implant, but also some calm.
NPR and This American Life pulled my dream,
my ghost,
from the shadows, too. The story of a diver
ensnared
at 900 feet below the sun,
who would never see it again.
I’ll never be at the bottom of Bushman’s cave,
but, the ghosts say,
you never know.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
So I hear,
just today,
in fact,
I'm not certain exactly when it was said,
a reliable source,
NPR,
So, I hear that great wall,
the BIG & beautiful one
on our Southern border,
the one HE wanted to build?
The one he raged about,
& of course,
while it was always preposterous,
Anyway he says,
It can maybe be a fence,
instead.
Oh my ***
Huh, interesting,
Well, that's not wishy washy,
No,
At all...
solid guy, he is,
& along with all the other rapidly,
changing things,
that he was so very,
passionate about,
And given,
the absolute myriad of obstacles,
from forcing Mexico to pay,
(haha- good one)
yeah,
making Mexico pay,
sure,
By the way,
do you want to work for his immigration?
Cuz' he's gonna need a bunch of new
recruits,
if so,
Not to mention,
workers to survey & complete,
that ridiculous project,
the complex geological complications,
in an interesting terrain,
humph,
indeed,
& the endless wordly implications,
that and so MANY other problems
we face,
far worse,
& BIGGER ones too,
Seriously,
check it out,
it would literally take,
FOREVER to build,
true narcissism,
exists,
apparently,
Though,
he might have single-handedly stopped illegal immigration by being elected.
Mission accomplished?
Do you wanna come live in the U.S. now?
Hahaha,
So stupid,
not REALLY funny,
still good to laugh,
This?
This is who we elected?
were we ALL high,
on propaganda?
God help us in times of war.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
kiss me on the mouth, on the
way to the elevators, with
everyone all too close, and my
heart pounding.
squeeze my hand and tell me
I'm yours and we'll run to the
Hudson through the slush and
watch the barges roll by.
our breath will be Dragon's fire,
and our hearts in our throats, and
I'll be so happy I won't say a
word.
we'll stay up all night watching
the lights in Hoboken,
sharing a forty
and
talking about pugs, broken mugs and
mice; climbing, metal bands and some
story you heard on NPR; your twin brother
and sister Patty, and I'll shut you up for
telling me the same story for the tenth time and
invite myself back to your place,
shut the lights off, and cuddle
with you all night.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
i never pledge
i take that back
i stopped a check once
to a radio station that i really love
a breaking-all-the-molds station
i listen to NPR
like that **** is going out of style
like im going to break this milli vanilli tape
after one more blame it on the rain
im dating myself
but truth be told
i would rather buy another carton
you showed me the most life changing radio
songs that made me weep for humanity
retreat deep within myself with universal contemplation
and yet a cottonless dromedary takes the cake
around others i curse these lapses in reporting
this evening news wrap-up banter
and i fake laugh at you
or should i say with you
but i feel your pain
i tried to sell time shares
rich with fake laughter
every time i hear it
you begging for money that is
im taken back to a place
where
i was foolhardy
and manipulative
knowledgeable
anxious
and vibrant
i use those moments of nostalgia
to think of her
you know who im talking about
im looking at you RADIOLAB
IRA GLASS you arent getting away with this either
you know her
i dream about what could have been
when i was foolhardy, manipulative, knowledgeable, anxious and vibrant
and how it would be like today
if i had the guts then
or time travel now
AND
if i wasnt even any of the above
but i have her now
and we listen together
we just talk over the drive
and the sponsorship ads
oh yeah
and the international news
its just depressing
OH and the bbc stuff
i dont "get" their accent
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
I am at my best at early a.m. when I click
the radio on and listen to NPR
interviews of people from
countries like Scotland, Nigeria, and Italy;
not long ago I heard a Swede tell how
he pickles Harbor
seal meat, and a day ago a Mexican
who was shot through the tailbone
by a child with a .22 rifle
argued her country has pitiful
accommodations for
the handicapped.
Learning of the Swede, Mexican,
and slain seals liven me;
and then the sun rises.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
I think about meditation, positivity,
and breathing my worries away.
I think of opening the blinds
to see a monk on fire
so I pick up a pen and write instead.
I think about the birds out my window
and feel the earth shake as they
fly for higher ground.
I think of students picking
one path to fly and die on
Then I think about the value of money
and what it's really worth
I think about comfort and security
then I think of a prison made of meridian sofas
and melted credit cards.
I think about getting wasted.
I think of social networking
dissociative isolation
and aging narcissism.
I think about the homeless man
and his house made of boxes
outside of NPR's building
"This American Life."
I think of turning up the noise
and smoking an 8th of ****
I think about the magnitude of our universe.
I think about *** and image.
I think about power and guns.
I think about how blind we’ve
allowed ourselves to be.
then I think of how I can condense these thoughts
into a single sentence so it holds
your
fleeting
attention
amidst
a
*******
newsfeed
I think about it
I do
That you should start to think too
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
December 1970
I'm 14
Stuck at my grandma's
Tired of the drone of Howard Cosell
I go walking
Jim + Lydia etched on a square
Then up ahead
A dude ten years older at least
Just the age I look up to
But this one holding by the hand
A little girl ten years my junior
"Where's the doggie?"
"It's in the..."
His words fade.
December 2010
I'm 54
Paused in this city where my grandmother lived
Tired of the drone of NPR
I get out
Pass the old house
Hands held up against the memories
Jim + Lydia 40 years on -- Still together? I'd like to ask
Then up ahead
An elderly man 10 years my senior
And a woman 10 years my junior
"Look, they put stained glass on their alcove."
"Yeah, they decided to..."
His words fade.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Is
It wrong
That the thing
I miss when you're gone
Is the television's dull hum
The silence is lonely, but the absence is relief
That I can walk down into the kitchen without akward words or my *** getting grabbed
I
Turned on
NPR
And I felt at ease
More at home at night on my own
Than I've felt in a long time, am I so wrong if I
Can't
Say that
I'm upset
Somehow lost when you
Aren't at home in the evening hours?
And
That I'm
Not upset
That I don't have to
Justify every move and twitch
That I prefer to talk to the man who I can't judge?
If
It is
Wrong for me
To think like I do
(Though you do claim to read my mind)
I'm
Not sure
I can show
You who I am now
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
The nation's midsection bloats like a Mississippi fish in the sun.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
The furnace, the one I grew up with in my parents home.
Well, she sits on the red sofa now, clicking through Netflix options.
I'm pondering my luck with her artistic pose.
My poetic style, it doesn't fit. I've never wrote.
Glancing at her tattoos and her skin makes sense.
"Everything that has to do with a baby, it's a reflex," she says.
How can I not?
She's now reading a textbook.
I should have listened to more NPR, maybe not.
She holds her fingers to her lips while she reads.
Now, I definitely should have listened to more NPR.
But, I didn't. And as she sprawls out on my red couch in comfort I know, again, that I love her.
Cliché? Yes, but **** it.
It's newfound love.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC
George Saunders is a better writer than I could ever be,
Such an incisive observer of the modern condition,
So witty and urbane,
A satirist with staying power.
Everybody loves a writer who’s legit funny.
It’s the Cinnamon and sugar in the oatmeal of reading.
George Saunders is smarter than me.
Dude is a bona fide scientist
Who earned a degree of geophysical engineering
From one of the STEMiest of STEM schools.
I was an English Major, and even English Major nerd god
Garrison Keillor rags on us as likely to someday ask
If you’d like fries with that.
George Saunders has lived a more adventurous life than me.
He was an engineer who worked on pipelines in Sumatra
And regales NPR types with his tales about venturing
Headlong into a monkey shit-contaminated river.
He’s thatched roofs, pulled knuckles at a slaughterhouse,
Rang up purchases at a 7-Eleven.
Saunders proposed to his wife after three weeks.
George Saunders is more distinguished than me.
His list of awards is endless.
Guggenheims, MacArthur genius grants, PEN/Malamud Awards,
A gaggle of National Magazine Awards,
The ********* Lannan Foundation.
Everyone has honored the guy.
I've got a bronze pig and some plaques.
George Saunders is more beloved than I am.
He addresses graduating classes all over the country.
Everyone man, woman and child has read “Sea Oak.”
Every man, woman and child loves “Sea Oak.”
It’s taught in every college in the country.
It’s about as perfect as a short story can get.
Realistically, I’ll never be as good a writer as George Saunders,
Yet the brilliance he pours forth into the world
Inspires me to write.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
The days you weren't sick were called holidays.
We packed your things, and moved to the living room.
Play scrabble on the love seats, and jut our jaws out to the long lettered words,
Put them back in place, only a little more droopy
when they sounded sad.
On the days you weren't sick,
We had celebratory radio talk shows talking holy through the cracks in our house.
When they told us about war, we turned the station.
Stayed silent in our own bomb shelter,
Stayed unaware, yet somehow experienced.
On the days your bones mimicked the floorboards in the ways they bent and chipped and creaked,
we packed your things and moved to the bedroom,
the one your mother slept in as a child,
the one our linens grew over to forget the trace of hers.
Your knuckles, neatly overlapping the curvature between your fingers,
Your eyes closed and breath inhaled.
I would count your heartbeats the same way I would count the declining degrees of your temperature:
Each one to be acknowledged, each one to be thanked, each one more than the one before.
The day you got really sick, we did nothing and you sat by the window singing church songs.
Mostly just whistles of oxygen escaping your lungs to let me know you were still there.
You existed only in that spot for a week until we packed your things
And moved to the hospital floor
for people like you.
On the day the nurse brought me flowers and apology letters,
I played scrabble in the living room,
Kept the radio on loud.
I remembered the ways you ached
And how long you had to stay that way
before we got comfortable with the long words and the war stories and finally compared them to our own.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Never Mind the Guns and the Fentanyl; Seize the Books
By 1938, the Nazis had banned eighteen categories of books,
4,175 titles, and the complete works of 565 authors…
-Molly Guptill Manning, When Books Went to War
Ideologues search libraries for ***** books
Because reading might give people ideas
And encourage them to think for themselves
Tyrants are threatened by words and ideas
Censors search Mary Poppins for ***** words
Because a wide vocabulary might give people ideas
And encourage them to think for themselves
Tyrants are threatened by words and ideas
In an era when even mere literacy is suspicious
Tyrants are threatened by words and ideas
How conservative and liberal book bans differ amid rise in literary restrictions - ABC News (go.com)
The Spread of Book Banning - The New York Times (nytimes.com)
Film censors aren’t protecting children from Mary Poppins – they’re protecting themselves (yahoo.com)
States Tell SCOTUS That Social Media Censors Conservatives : The NPR Politics Podcast : NPR
List of banned films - Wikipedia
https://www.forbes.com/sites/maryroeloffs/2023/12/22/police-officer-searches-middle-school-library-after-complaint-about-concerning-illustrations-in-lgbtq-book/
Someone is cutting down free little libraries in a Chicago suburb and police are searching for the suspect (msn.com)
Over 170 books banned from Florida school libraries following new education reform - CBS News
The police officer who searched for a book in a Great Barrington classroom also used a body camera. The ACLU has ‘deep concerns’ | South Berkshires | berkshireeagle.com
Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 9:23 PM UTC