Music Week (Day 5)

March 4, 2011 § Leave a comment

I don’t have much to say about the song today. Discussing anything political always takes too much out of me emotionally, so I don’t do it much any more. I still get goosebumps each time I listen to this song. Sometimes, it makes me cry.

HANDS HELD HIGH

Linkin Park

Cover of "Minutes to Midnight: European T...

Cover via Amazon

Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something

Light weights step it aside when we come in

Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumping

People on the street, they panic and start running

Words on loose leaf sheet complete coming

I jump in my mind, I summon the rhyme, I’m dumping

Healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in

Sick of the dark ways we marched to the drum and

Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping

Fuck that, I wanna see some fists pumping

Miss something, take back what’s yours

Say something that you know they might attack you for

Cause I’m sick of being treated like I have before

Like it’s stupid standing for what I’m standing for

Like this war’s really just a different brand of war

Like it doesn’t cater the rich and abandon the poor

Like they understand you in the back of the jet

When you can’t put gas in your tank

These fuckers are laughing their way to the bank

And cashing their cheque

Asking you to have compassion and have some respect

For a leader so nervous in an obvious way

Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay

And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day

In their living rooms laughing like, “What did he say?!”


Amen amen

Amen amen

Amen


In my living room watching but I am not laughing

Cause when it gets tense I know what might happen

The world is cold, the bold men take action

Have to react or get blown into fractions

Ten years old is something to see

Another kid my age dragged under the jeep

Taken and bound and found later under a tree

I wonder if he had thought, “The next one could be me…”

Do you see the soldiers that’re out today?

They brush the dust from bullet-proof vests away

It’s ironic – at times like this you pray

But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday

There’s bombs in the buses, bikes, roads

Inside your market, your shops, your clothes

My dad, he’s got a lot of fear I know

But enough pride inside not to let that show

My brother had a book he would hold with pride

A little red cover with a broken spine

On the back, he hand-wrote a quote inside:

‘When the rich wage war, it’s the poor who die.’

Meanwhile, the leader just talks away

Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay

And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day

Both scared and angry like, “What did he say?!”


Amen amen

Amen amen

Amen


With hands held high unto a sky so blue

As the ocean opens up to swallow you…


Because I’ve not found any two sites that write the lyrics to this song in 100% the same way, there may be a few mistakes. But those are irrelevant to the message so I’ll let them stand.

LISTEN TO IT HERE –> Hands Held High by Linkin Park

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Music Week (Day 3)

February 22, 2011 § 4 Comments

So I’m going to cheat a little today. Obviously, it’s no longer the same week that I originally started Music Week in. But for once I want to finish something I’ve started, so I’m not going to post anything else until I’m done with all seven days regardless of however long it takes me in reality.

I’m also cheating today because I am not writing the lyrics to a song, but the words to a spoken word piece. But in reality, there’s no real difference, it’s all poetry. I think I have the words right (feel completely free to correct me) but obviously I’m not really sure of the most appropriate method to punctuate it when it’s written down. Sorry about that 🙂

SMOKE

Imani Woomera

Its beauty is announced as I…

Exhale

Reminding me of the movements of an exotic dancer

Gracefully curving and circulating the space and objects

I…

Imagine it representing myself


Therapeutic and ancient

It rests in the live cells of a tree

Waiting patiently to be released by the kiss of a flame

That existed long before it had been given a name

And after all that time it remains not the same –

Sadly it had to go through some catastrophic change


Now it circulates the air everywhere

Smoke polluted by cars in squares

I can smell it being burned over there

By those folks in those chairs

And we can’t seem to get a breath of fresh air anywhere


Smoke is symbolic

Its marking is evident

It’s ability to represent is simply magnificent

Burning as incense and using sacraments

But…

I see these beautiful people’s lips

Puffing upon white cancer sticks

And our precious breathing lungs absorb the tar-filled smoke like a sponge

And it spreads out out attack children and everyone

Rotten lungs…

Rotten lungs


Air is essential

Its cleanliness is fundamental

Its importance is undeniable

Its abuse is unjustifiable

And all this smoke is making breathing unbearable

And all that it affects is unexplainable


But I ask if you could take a look inside

And see exactly what it’s doing to your anatomy

Would you continue to pay $3.50 for a box of captivity?

‘Cuz they keep you addicted faithfully

Only for them to gain financially

Don’t you see?

Or are you unconsciously contributing to a destructive reality?

Saying,

“It’s okay, it’s only me

This is how I choose to be

It helps me deal with my reality

I’m going through changes

Just let me be

Leave me…

Alone.”


Listen, I know you’re not proud

Your head is in a smoky cloud

But I gotta say it out loud

Get. It. Together.

Cigarette smoking is far from clever

It’s nasty for your health, your breath and for your long-time pleasure

Imagine being 50 years old

And having emphysema or lung cancer

And still smoking those sticks

Through the hole that they cut in your neck

Can’t even catch your breath

Can’t even have sex

So outta shape, no muscles to flex

Put that butt out and give it a rest

Plus why you so concerned about how you look on the outside

When you’re deteriorating your insides?

Inhaling that poison through your mouth

But toning up your hips and thighs?

What’s wrong with your eyes?

You’re not blind but you can’t see

Inhaling that shit obliviously?


Obviously you need to

Get

It

Together

Smoke by Imani

If you’ve never heard of her, or had the opportunity to listen to one of her pieces, there are links throughout this post to her various sites, etc. It’s all really good stuff – I highly recommend that you check it out.

A Reflection Of Just Who We Are Today.

May 9, 2010 § Leave a comment

I’m one of those people that’s perpetually behind on the news. About 3 weeks or so ago, I was on some site – probably yahoo! answers or something, don’t really remember – and this girl was very expressively stating her views on parenting methods and children these days, etc., and she brought up the Phoebe Price case. This was the first I was hearing of it (although it happened in January. Oh, the shame!) so I google-whored my way out of ignorance.
I tend to emotionally-distance myself from all these tragic tales, not because I don’t care, but because sometimes that’s what we have to do to keep living in a world filled with so many injustices. This got to me though. I don’t know if you’ve heard her story? This is a break-down of it:
She was an Irish girl, who had moved to the states about four months before. And you know how there’re ‘hierarchies’ or whatever in school, right? The popular kids who feel like it’s their right to sort of rule the school? Okay, this is the part of the story I’m sort of hazy on ’cause I didn’t think it was too important, so don’t quote me – a guy that one of the ‘popular’ girls liked was into Phoebe. And I guess they slept together or whatever, and this girl got royally pissed, ’cause Phoebe didn’t ‘know her place’. (bit I’m even hazier on) she also slept with another guy, I’m just not sure how exactly he ties into the story…
Anyway, all this resulted in Phoebe being called a slut, and all those other nice words teenagers keep throwing around, and it escalated into serious bullying. Not only did they torment her in school, but also in the cyberworld (because aren’t facebook and twitter and formspring and all these other social networking sites all so pleasant?). And I mean TORMENTING her. In school. Via her phone – they used to text and call her constantly [she changed her number at least 3 times. Hopeless]. On the internet… There was just no escaping them.
She reported the bullying to the school authorities…nothing. A group of students saw what was happening once and also went to the school authorities…still nothing. Her MOTHER reported her concern over the bullying…more nothing. Once even, apparently, there was a TEACHER present who witnessed the bullying…you get the drift. Fun, eh?
On January 14th, I guess she’d just had a particularly gruesome day. As she was walking home from school, one of the girls drove past her, threw a can out of the window at her, and yelled a final insult. That must have been the last straw because “Phoebe kept walking, past the abuse, past the can, past the white
picket fence, into her house. Then she walked into a closet and hanged
herself. Her 12-year-old sister found her.” (I’m thoroughly tempted to Harvard reference, but I shall refrain)
I don’t know what frame of mind she was in that day. Obviously, she must have been suffering from depression. But I’m assuming it wasn’t pre-meditated because she didn’t say any ‘goodbyes’ and she had the dress, the date, and the excitement for her school’s cotillion which was only 2 days away.
And I’m also making no judgements about her sexual activities. The 2 boys were charged with statutory rape (she was 15. Did I mention that?) but I don’t know enough to state whether or not it was what she wanted.
BUT HERE’S WHAT GOT TO ME –
She was dead. Tragically young, it could’ve been prevented, et cetera, so a memorial page was started on facebook. And they abused her on it. On the page created in her memory. She was DEAD, and they were still saying how she ‘deserved’ it. One of the girls put ‘accomplished’ as her status the day phoebe killed herself.
And 2 days later, they were all at the cotillion laughing and generally having a gay old time.
Now, I know humans can be…how shall I say this politely?…messed up. I KNOW that.
But I still don’t get this.

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