Tuesday, January 20, 2009

The Inauguration of President Obama

"Air and Simple Gifts"

Musical selection of John Williams, composer/arranger with Itzhak Perlman, (violin), Yo-Yo Ma (cello), Gabriela Montero (piano) and Anthony McGill (clarinet



ELIZABETH ALEXANDER: Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Extraordinary poet! I'm in awe.



Benediction delivered by Reverend Joseph Lowery

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou who has brought us thus far along the way, thou who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path, we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee. Shadowed beneath thy hand may we forever stand -- true to thee, O God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day. We pray now, O Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant, Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration. He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national and, indeed, the global fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hand, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations. Our faith does not shrink, though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you're able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor or the least of these and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that, yes, we can work together to achieve a more perfect union. And while we have sown the seeds of greed -- the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountaintop, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little, angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together, children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone, with your hands of power and your heart of love.

Help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nation shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree, and none shall be afraid; when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around -- (laughter) -- when yellow will be mellow -- (laughter) -- when the red man can get ahead, man -- (laughter) -- and when white will embrace what is right.

Let all those who do justice and love mercy say amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen!

REV. LOWERY: Say amen --

AUDIENCE: Amen!

REV. LOWERY: -- and amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen!




Beautiful!


I'll post more when it all sinks in...I'm absolutely overwhelmed with emotion.

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Barack Hussein Obama

~President Of The United States Of America~




~America's First Family~

Barack, Michelle, Malia, and Sasha.











'We must pick ourselves up'

Monday, January 19, 2009

Elizabeth Alexander on Barack Obama

Poetry and Obama's Respect for the Power of Language

On her website Elizabeth Alexander writes:

“Words matter. Language matters. We live in and express ourselves with language, and that is how we communicate and move through the world in community.

President-elect Obama has shown us at all turns his respect for the power of language. The care with which he has always used language along with his evident understanding that language and words bear power and tell us who we are across differences, have been hallmarks of his political career. My joy at being selected to compose and deliver a poem on the occasion of Obama’s Presidential inaugural emanates from my deep respect for him as a person of meaningful, powerful words that move us forward. And as his campaign was a movement much larger than the man himself, I understand that as a country we stand poised to make tremendous choices about our collective future. The distillation of language in poetry, its precision, can help us see sharply in the midst of many conundrums.

This is a powerful moment in our history. The joy I feel is sober and profound because so much struggle and sacrifice have brought us to this day. And there is so much work to be done ahead of us. Poetry is not meant to cheer; rather, poetry challenges, and moves us towards transformation. Language distilled and artfully arranged shifts our experience of the words – and the worldviews – we live in.

This is only the fourth time in our history that a President has featured a poet at his inaugural. I hope that this portends well for the future of the arts in our everyday and civic life.”

Elizabeth Alexander
December 2008

Source

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Martin Luther King



History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.

Martin Luther King, Jr.


His name is Martin Luther King not MLK. Honing his name down to an acronym is an insult -- MLK looks like an abbreviation for milk.

A cold and a broken Hallelujah

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah!

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu----jah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you. She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu----jah

Maybe I have been here before, I know this room; I have walked this floor, I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch, love is not a victory march it's a cold and its a broken Hallelujah!

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu----jah

There was a time you let me know whats really going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you? (and) Remember when I moved in you; the holy dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah!

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu----jah

Maybe there's a God above and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you. And it's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, its a cold and its a broken Hallelujah!

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu--jah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu---u---jah

-L. Cohen

Saturday, January 17, 2009

snow blind/ eruption

hot blizzards of desire, your face
framed with white frost... i fell
into your eyes, then tumbled to
your mouth.
my tongue tracing your lips as i
melted on your buldging tundra

and,





i greedily swallowed your stellar dendrites.

*

eruption

would you drown in me,
cover me with your sweat,
stretch my limbs wide
with your long legs
making me your port at
the end of your long
and winding road.
while i, on my knees,
arch against you,
neptune aflame,
burning my throat with
your fire.
would you burrow deep
in my violet vase filled
with your molten steam?

then,



i would drown in you.



-Carol


Latitude 44°93'20" North
Longitude 93°42'01" West

Monday, January 12, 2009

Surprise Encounter

It was too quiet, I had to slip into
something fevered and intangible.
Tongue twirled vines heavy with
ripened luscious berries brushed
their velvet tendrils against my
bare and hungry legs.
Wind shimmied willows caressed
a slivered purple sky and a season
of bliss casually blew strands of
imagination into my lustful heart.
Headed west on the railroad tracks
I hoped for the rumble of a train
and stood thinly on the old trestle
bridge, holding my breath....
holding my breath.
Suddenly, a throbbing rhythm
snuck up on my nakedness and
with a shudder I bled graffiti on
the sides of a steel blue boxcar as
it passed by me, as it passed me by.


Carol Brown ©

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Melancholy

as I face the......wide eyed
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sky
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Sunday, January 11, 2009

On My List

Steal a Pencil for Me

Synopsis: A compelling documentary feature film by Academy Award® nominee Michèle Ohayon about the power of love and the ability of humankind to rise above unimaginable suffering.

1943: Holland is under total Nazi occupation. In Amsterdam, Jack, an unassuming accountant, first meets Ina at a birthday party – a 20-year-old beauty from a wealthy diamond manufacturing family who instantly steals his heart. But Jack’s pursuit of love will be complicated; he is poor and married to Manja, a flirtatious and mercurial spouse.

When the Jews are being deported, the husband, the wife and the lover find themselves at the same concentration camp; actually living in the same barracks. When Jack's wife objects to the relationship in spite of their unhappy marriage, Jack and Ina resort to writing secret love letters, which sustain them throughout the horrible circumstances of the war.

Jack: “I’m a very special Holocaust survivor. I was in the camps with my wife and my girlfriend; and believe me, it wasn’t easy.”

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Friday, January 9, 2009

Books, Movies and Music

A partial list of the Books, Movies and Music I bought last year.

Books: (Partial list)

1. The Book Of Embraces by Eduardo Galeano
2. Walking Words by Eduardo Galeano
3. Las Palabras Andantes. The Spanish edition of Walking Words
4. Voices of Time. A Life in Stories by Eduardo Galeano
5. Days and Nights of Love and War by Eduardo Galeano
6. Traveler by Ron McLarty
7. Midnight Salvage -Poems by Adrienne Rich
8. The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama
9. The Lyncher In Me by Warren Read
10. What Do We Know -Poems by Mary Oliver
11. Up From Slavery by Booker T. Washington
12. Sudden Rain by Maritta Wolff
13. Whistle Stop by Maritta Wolff
14. John Dillinger Slept Here by Paul Maccabee
15. All the Night Wings -Poems by Loren Eiseley

Movies

1. 1900
2. Once Upon A Time In America
3. Taxi Driver
4. Falling In Love
5. The Deer Hunter
6. Love In The Time Of Cholera
7. Doctor Zhivago
8. TideLand
9. Evening
10. The Piano
11. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
12. As Good As It Gets
13. The Rose (Not her best)
14. The Color Purple


Television Series

From HBO: The Wire: Seasons 1-5
From Showtime: Dexter: Season 1-2
From FX: The Shield: Seasons 1-6


Music: (Partial list)

1. Two Steps From the Blues by Bobby "blue" Bland
2. That Kind Of Day by T.D. Mischke
3. Red Letter Year by Ani DiFranco
4. Truth Music by K.M. Williams
5. Soundtrack from the movie Black Snake Moan
6. Shake It Baby by Jesse Mae Hemphill
7. Continuum by John Mayer
8. Respect Yourself by Otis Clay
9. Blues From The Country by Mississippi John Hurt
10. We Shall Overcome (Seeger Sessions) by Bruce Springsteen

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Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Inexcusable

The Army said Wednesday that 7,000 family members of soldiers killed in the Iraq or Afghan wars mistakenly were sent letters addressing them as "John Doe." Army Chief of Staff Gen. George W. Casey, Jr., was sending a personal letter to all the families who received the improperly addressed letters as the result of a printing error, the Army said.

The 7,000 original letters were sent late last month to inform survivors about private organizations that offer gifts, programs and other assistance to families that have lost soldiers in Iraq or other countries where they are deployed for the war on terrorism.

It was sent from the U.S. Army Human Resources Command's Casualty and Mortuary Affairs Center in Alexandria, Va., which issued a formal apology Wednesday.

The letters, which were printed by a contractor, were to have been automatically addressed with the specific names and addresses of survivors said Paul Boyce, an Army spokesman. Instead, they contained the placeholder greeting — "Dear John Doe."

Source

Sadness is Generous

Romance In A Beat Up Chevy


I

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. Told her your life story; she heard this one before but she listened anyway. Girl, I've been runnin’ my entire life and I ain’t gonna quit, don’t be 'spectin nothin’ from this man. I got places I got t'be women I want t'see. Hear what I’m sayin’ hm? Baby don’t be cryin’ on me, you women want to take a piece of me string my balls hang 'em on your Christmas tree. What’s that you got in your hands, hey you writin’ one of them poems ‘bout me? Let me take a look. "That man thinks he’s a gift, he doesn’t know that sadness is generous, he hates everything that isn’t about him. I want a man who isn’t afraid of feeling." What? I ain’t afraid of nothin’. You ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout leaving me are you baby? Don’t leave me I need you baby, let me give you a ride home. Damn, she gonna' go...

II

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. She reached over, turned on the car radio, Leonard Cohen was singing The Stranger Song, she sang along with him, knew all the words to the song and you were impressed. She looked into your sad eyes and asked you if you ever saw the ocean. Then she told you that she was headed to California, was going be a real hippie, wear bell bottoms and weave flowers through her hair. She took her shoes off tossed them out the window, her blue eyes were lit up with mischief and joy. You just kept on driving, and all the way to the ocean she sang The Stranger Song. You didn't know that this would be the best time of your life...

III

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. She told you that she was going off to college, and you felt sad about her leaving you behind. You cuddled in the back seat, kissed and touched each other. She was wearing the sweet necklace that you gave her, the one with the pretty abalone seashell. You asked her if she would make love with you and she told you that she wasn’t ready to have sex. You didn’t hear her, you ripped her clothes off, she pleaded with you, begged you to stop. You raped her, you raped the girl you loved. She cried, you said you were sorry, and told her that you loved her. Sobbing, she asked you to take her home, which you did. When you drove off you felt something sharp sticking into your side and pulling at it you saw that it was the necklace you gave her, the chain broken...

IV

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. White as winters' first snow fall and warmer than a day in the month of August. She leaned her head against your chest and listened to the beating of your heart, hummed to its rhythm and you thought you'd weep into her long hair smelling of chamomile; Sadness is generous, a giving of memories and regrets come to remind you. You can find sadness anywhere; When walking on a beach, pick up a seashell and hold it against the sunlight. It nudges your heart to let the tears come, to bring home lost images of times you left behind or reminders of mistakes you've made along the way. Romance in a beat up Chevy, a broken chain, the smell of chamomile, a special song; The sound of your own heart beating.. .. .. ..


Carol Brown ©

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Monday, January 5, 2009

River Hymn

The river, she opens her arms with wide gratitude.
Savoring shards of glass, and broken pieces of
hearts left behind by those who've lost all hope.
Deep into her muddy bottom she takes them on her
journey; Swallowing, pushing, pulling and dragging
She tumbles all life into shiny forms swiftly
sifting each into gritty silt.
Around the bend heaving over tree stumps lapping
secrets casually thrown into her with reckless
abandonment.
Again around another bend she weeps in a language
of continuance, asking me to listen, to look.
While I am pondering her vast collection, she is
singing her grief to me, a lone witness, as
I watch a body falling, arms pointed straight up
at a blue spring sky, her legs bent and clinging
tight to her cotton dress.
Then her shoes hit the water, leaving ripples
behind as she plunges into her final entrance.
Listen...the sound..... It’s the sound of hearts
and wings flapping up to the sun.



Carol Brown ©


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Smells Like Rain



Softly you sing, tuck your dream inside my heart
It smells like rain... softens the pain.
And it sways sweetly, floats endlessly, a leaf
Caught inside of breathlessness.
It's a song you hum lingering on lazy as your
Eyes are closing and it seems to say, yes it
Smells like rain.
Softly you sing, tuck your heart inside my dream
It smells like rain... softens the pain.
It's a song you know by heart, a breath, an ache
A pebble skipping across the water.

Yes...it smells like rain.

Carol Brown ©

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