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Με αφορμή την αναγγελία του θανάτου -την Πέμπτη, 9/1/2013- του σπουδαίου αφροαμερικανού ακτιβιστή ποιητή και συγγραφέα Amiri Baraka (γνωστού και ως LeRoi Jones), ανεβάζω εδώ το ποίημά του Somebody Blew Up America όπως παρουσιάσυηκε από τον ποιητή με τη συνοδεία του σαξοφωνίστα Rob Brown στις 21 Φεβρουαρίου 2009 στο «Sanctuary for Independent Media» που έγινε στο Troy της Νέας Υόρκης.
Ο Amiri Baraka εμπνεύστηκε το «Somebody Blew Up America» από τη φονική επίθεση στους Δίδυμους Πύργους της Νέας Υόρκης στις 11/9/2001. Οταν =πέντε μήνες αργότερα- πρωτοπαρουσίασε το ποίημά του, προκάλεσε την οργή των εβραϊκών οργανώσεων στις ΗΠΑ που τον κατηγόρησαν για «αντισημιστισμό»… Διαβάστε τους στίχους και βγάλτε συμπέρασμα:

They say its some terrorist,
some barbaric
A Rab,
in Afghanistan
It wasn’t our American terrorists
It wasn’t the Klan or the Skin heads
Or the them that blows up nigger
Churches, or reincarnates us on Death Row
It wasn’t Trent Lott
Or David Duke or Giuliani
Or Schundler, Helms retiring
It wasn’t
The gonorrhea in costume
The white sheet diseases
That have murdered black people
Terrorized reason and sanity
Most of humanity, as they pleases
They say (who say?)
Who do the saying
Who is them paying
Who tell the lies
Who in disguise
Who had the slaves
Who got the bux out the Bucks
Who got fat from plantations
Who genocided Indians
Tried to waste the Black nation
Who live on Wall Street
The first plantation
Who cut your nuts off
Who rape your ma
Who lynched your pa
Who got the tar, who got the feathers
Who had the match, who set the fires
Who killed and hired
Who say they God & still be the Devil
Who the biggest only
Who the most goodest
Who do Jesus resemble
Who created everything
Who the smartest
Who the greatest
Who the richest
Who say you ugly and they the goodlookingest
Who define art
Who define science
Who made the bombs
Who made the guns
Who bought the slaves, who sold them
Who called you them names
Who say Dahmer wasn’t insane

Who? Who? Who?

Who stole Puerto Rico
Who stole the Indies, the Philipines, Manhattan
Australia & The Hebrides
Who forced opium on the Chinese
Who own them buildings
Who got the money
Who think you funny
Who locked you up
Who own the papers
Who owned the slave ship
Who run the army
Who the fake president
Who the ruler
Who the banker

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the mine
Who twist your mind
Who got bread
Who need peace
Who you think need war
Who own the oil
Who do no toil
Who own the soil
Who is not a nigger
Who is so great ain’t nobody bigger
Who own this city
Who own the air
Who own the water
Who own your crib
Who rob and steal and cheat and murder
and make lies the truth
Who call you uncouth
Who live in the biggest house
Who do the biggest crime
Who go on vacation anytime
Who killed the most niggers
Who killed the most Jews
Who killed the most Italians
Who killed the most Irish
Who killed the most Africans
Who killed the most Japanese
Who killed the most Latinos

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the ocean
Who own the airplanes
Who own the malls
Who own television
Who own radio
Who own what ain’t even known to be owned
Who own the owners that ain’t the real owners
Who own the suburbs
Who suck the cities
Who make the laws
Who made Bush president
Who believe the confederate flag need to be flying
Who talk about democracy and be lying
Who the Beast in Revelations
Who 666
Who know who decide
Jesus get crucified
Who the Devil on the real side
Who got rich from Armenian genocide
Who the biggest terrorist
Who change the bible
Who killed the most people
Who do the most evil
Who don’t worry about survival
Who have the colonies
Who stole the most land
Who rule the world
Who say they good but only do evil
Who the biggest executioner

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the oil
Who want more oil
Who told you what you think that later you find out a lie

Who? Who? Who?

Who found Bin Laden, maybe they Satan
Who pay the CIA,
Who knew the bomb was gonna blow
Who know why the terrorists
Learned to fly in Florida, San Diego
Who know why Five Israelis was filming the explosion
And cracking they sides at the notion
Who need fossil fuel when the sun ain’t goin’ nowhere
Who make the credit cards
Who get the biggest tax cut
Who walked out of the Conference
Against Racism
Who killed Malcolm, Kennedy & his Brother
Who killed Dr King, Who would want such a thing?
Are they linked to the murder of Lincoln?
Who invaded Grenada
Who made money from apartheid
Who keep the Irish a colony
Who overthrow Chile and Nicaragua later
Who killed David Sibeko, Chris Hani,
the same ones who killed Biko, Cabral,
Neruda, Allende, Che Guevara, Sandino,
Who killed Kabila, the ones who wasted Lumumba, Mondlane,
Betty Shabazz, Die, Princess Di, Ralph Featherstone,
Little Bobby
Who locked up Mandela, Dhoruba, Geronimo,
Assata, Mumia, Garvey, Dashiell Hammett, Alphaeus Hutton
Who killed Huey Newton, Fred Hampton,
Medgar Evers, Mikey Smith, Walter Rodney,
Was it the ones who tried to poison Fidel
Who tried to keep the Vietnamese Oppressed
Who put a price on Lenin’s head
Who put the Jews in ovens,
and who helped them do it
Who said «America First»
and ok’d the yellow stars
Who killed Rosa Luxembourg, Liebneckt
Who murdered the Rosenbergs
And all the good people iced,
tortured, assassinated, vanished
Who got rich from Algeria, Libya, Haiti,
Iran, Iraq, Saudi, Kuwait, Lebanon,
Syria, Egypt, Jordan, Palestine,
Who cut off peoples hands in the Congo
Who invented Aids
Who put the germs
In the Indians’ blankets
Who thought up «The Trail of Tears»
Who blew up the Maine
& started the Spanish American War
Who got Sharon back in Power
Who backed Batista, Hitler, Bilbo,
Chiang kai Chek
Who decided Affirmative Action had to go
Reconstruction, The New Deal,
The New Frontier, The Great Society,
Who do Tom Ass Clarence Work for
Who doo doo come out the Colon’s mouth
Who know what kind of Skeeza is a Condoleeza
Who pay Connelly to be a wooden negro
Who give Genius Awards to Homo Locus
Subsidere
Who overthrew Nkrumah, Bishop,
Who poison Robeson,
who try to put DuBois in Jail
Who frame Rap Jamil al Amin, Who frame the Rosenbergs,
Garvey,
The Scottsboro Boys,
The Hollywood Ten
Who set the Reichstag Fire
Who knew the World Trade Center was gonna get bombed
Who told 4000 Israeli workers at the Twin Towers
To stay home that day
Why did Sharon stay away?

Who? Who? Who?

Explosion of Owl the newspaper say
The devil face cd be seen
Who make money from war
Who make dough from fear and lies
Who want the world like it is
Who want the world to be ruled by imperialism and national
oppression and terror violence, and hunger and poverty.
Who is the ruler of Hell?
Who is the most powerful
Who you know ever
Seen God?
But everybody seen
The Devil
Like an Owl exploding
In your life in your brain in your self
Like an Owl who know the devil
All night, all day if you listen, Like an Owl
Exploding in fire. We hear the questions rise
In terrible flame like the whistle of a crazy dog
Like the acid vomit of the fire of Hell

Who and Who and WHO who who?

Whoooo and Whoooooooooooooooooooo?

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O Frank Zappa (21 Δεκεμβρίου 1940 – 4 Δεκεμβρίου 1993) θα γιόρταζε σήμερα τα 73α του γενέθλια. Εδώ με τους Mothers Of Invention από το Freak Out, τον παρθενικό τους δίσκο που κυκλοφορησε το1965.
Το υλικό του βίντεο είναι από τις ταραχές που ξέσπασαν στο Λος Αντζελες τόσο το 1965 όσο και το 1992.

Οι στίχοι:

Well I’m about to get sick
From watchin’ my TV
Been checkin’ out the news
Until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean to say that every day
Is just another rotten mess
And when it’s gonna change, my friend
Is anybody’s guess

So I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’
Hopin’ for the best
Even think I’ll go to prayin’
Every time I hear ’em sayin’
That there’s no way to delay
That trouble comin’ every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin’ every day

Wednesday I watched the riot . . .
Seen the cops out on the street
Watched ’em throwin’ rocks and stuff
And chokin’ in the heat
Listened to reports
About the whisky passin’ ’round
Seen the smoke and fire
And the market burnin’ down
Watched while everybody
On his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash
And slash and bust and burn

And I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’
Hopin’ for the best
Even think I’ll go to prayin’
Every time I hear ’em sayin’
That there’s no way to delay
That trouble comin’ every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin’ every day

Well, you can cool it,
You can heat it . . .
‘Cause, baby, I don’t need it . . .
Take your TV tube and eat it
‘N all that phony stuff on sports
‘N all the unconfirmed reports
You know I watched that rotten box
Until my head begin to hurt
From checkin’ out the way
The newsman say they get the dirt
Before the guys on channel so-and-so

And further they assert
That any show they’ll interrupt
To bring you news if it comes up
They say that if the place blows up
They will be the first to tell,
Because the boys they got downtown
Are workin’ hard and doin’ swell,
And if anybody gets the news
Before it hits the street,
They say that no one blabs it faster
Their coverage can’t be beat

And if another woman driver
Gets machine-gunned from her seat
They’ll send some joker with a brownie
And you’ll see it all complete

So I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’
Hopin’ for the best
Even think I’ll go to prayin’
Every time I hear ’em sayin’
That there’s no way to delay
That trouble comin’ every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin’ every day

Hey, you know something people?
I’m not black
But there’s a whole lots a times
I wish I could say I’m not white

Well, I seen the fires burnin’
And the local people turnin’
On the merchants and the shops
Who used to sell their brooms and mops
And every other household item
Watched the mob just turn and bite ’em
And they say it served ’em right
Because a few of them are white,
And it’s the same across the nation
Black and white discrimination
Yellin’ «You can’t understand me!»
‘N all that other jazz they hand me
In the papers and TV and
All that mass stupidity
That seems to grow more every day
Each time you hear some nitwit say
He wants to go and do you in
Because the color of your skin
Just don’t appeal to him
(No matter if it’s black or white)
Because he’s out for blood tonight

You know we got to sit around at home
And watch this thing begin
But I bet there won’t be many live
To see it really end
‘Cause the fire in the street
Ain’t like the fire in the heart
And in the eyes of all these people
Don’t you know that this could start
On any street in any town
In any state if any clown
Decides that now’s the time to fight
For some ideal he thinks is right
And if a million more agree
There ain’t no Great Society
As it applies to you and me
Our country isn’t free
And the law refuses to see
If all that you can ever be
Is just a lousy janitor
Unless your uncle owns a store
You know that five in every four
Just won’t amount to nothin’ more
Gonna watch the rats go across the floor
And make up songs about being poor

Blow your harmonica, son!

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«if love had a sound, this would be that sound. love. love, we would be the band to play it. my ghetto butterfly flew away from me, i wait patiently. by windows and doorsteps, play make believe as my tears pour to my chest. won’t succeed to breathe if not the hear of you. surely there hasn’t never been a shade so blue. a stank attitude, so not mad at you. not a magnitude to encompass the latitude of my love for you. no space or time compatible. what do i have to do. what do i have to do. my friends say i got it bad for you. i do. but there’s nothing in this world i would rather do, but you.

hey, i want to make love to your existence. drenched in the colors of your energy, then masturbate to the memories. i wanna lose myself inside yourself. until you find me, confine me, to the freedom, of your prison. exist in the same space, same time. combine. until your thoughts slow grind with mine.combine. until your thoughts slow grind with mine. combine. until your thoughts slow grind with mine.

my, i want to drink the sweat off your intellect. reflect, and watch your light passion off my neck. caress the sight of your presence with no question. undress, to the nakedness of love, pure love. i want to make love to my soul mate. my soul mate. make love to my soul mate. my soul mate. make love to my soul mate. shit.

i wonder how does it feel to make love to your soul mate. kind of like writing poetry till climax. till the point and place where our space and time match, and we, cross divine paths. tell me would you like that. how would like that. tell me would you like that. now would you like that. tell me would you like that. would you like that. tell me.

i wanna love you more than madly. wrap these legs, around your words. until your speech is straddled deep, gladly. swim the currents of your vibrations. be separate and one. with the same meditation. with the same meditation. this is poetry».

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Human beings in a mob
What’s a mob to a king?
What’s a king to a god?
What’s a god to a non-believer?
Who don’t believe in anything?

We make it out alive
All right, all right
No church in the wild

[Jay-Z]

Tears on the mauseoleum floor
Blood stains the coliseum doors
Lies of the lips of a priest
Thanksgiving disguised as a feast
Rollin’ in the Rolls-Royce Corniche
Only the doctors got this, I’m hidin’ from police
Cocaine seats
All white like I got the whole thing bleached
Drug dealer chic
I’m wonderin’ if a dove’s prayers reach
It’s pious Pius, the god loves Pius
Socrates asks, «Whose bias do y’all seek?»
Or for Plato, the screech
I’m out chere ballin’, I know you hear my sneaks
Jesus was a carpenter, Yeezy, he lay beats
Hova flow the Holy Ghost, get the hell up out your seats
Preach

Human beings in a mob
What’s a mob to a king?
What’s a king to a god?
What’s a god to a non-believer?
Who don’t believe in anything?

We make it out alive
All right, all right
No church in the wild

Let me buy you
Desire
I stand by you
Walk through the fire
Your life
Is my Scripture
And I need it
Through your encryption
Yeah, yeah

[Kanye West]

Coke on her black skin made a stripe like a zebra
I call that jungle fever
You will not control the threesome
Just roll the weed up until I get me some
We formed a new religion
No sins as long as there’s permission’
And deception is the only felony
So never fuck nobody wit’out tellin’ me
Sunglasses and Advil
Last night was mad real
Sun comin’ up, 5 a.m.
I wonder if they got cabs still
Thinkin’ ’bout the girl in all-leopard
Who was rubbin’ the wood like Kiki Shepard
Two tattooes, one read «No Apologies»
The other said «Love is cursed by monogamy»
That’s somethin’ that the pastor don’t preach
That’s somethin’ that a teacher can’t teach
When we die, the money we can’t keep
But we prolly spend it all ’cause the pain ain’t cheap
Preach

Human beings in a mob
What’s a mob to a king?
What’s a king to a god?
What’s a god to a non-believer?
Who don’t believe in anything?

We make it out alive
All right, all right
No church in the wild
No church in the wild
No church in the wild
No church in the wild

(Το videoclip είναι σκηνοθετημένο από τον Romain Gavras.) 

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Αλλο ένα τραγουδάκι από το «Wrecking Ball», τελευταίο δίσκο του Bruce, ζωντανά από το Θέατρο Apollo της Νέας Υόρκης.

Οι στίχοι:

Oh no cannonballs did fly
No rifles cut us down
No bombs fell from the sky
No blood soaked the ground
No powder flash blinded the eye
No deafening thunder sounded
But just as sure as the hand of god
They brought death to my hometown
They brought death to my hometown, boys

No shells ripped the evening sky
No cities burning down
No armies stormed the shores for which we’d die
No dictators were crowned
High off on a quiet night
I never heard a sound
The marauders raided in the dark and brought death to my hometown, boys
Death to my hometown

They destroyed our families’ factories and they took our homes
They left our bodies on the plains
The vultures picked our bones

So listen up, my Sonny boy
Be ready for when they come
For they’ll be returning sure as the rising sun

Now get yourself a song to sing and sing it ’til you’re done
Yeah, sing it hard and sing it well
Send the robber barons straight to hell
The greedy thieves who came around
And ate the flesh of everything they’ve found
Whose crimes have gone unpunished now
Walk the streets as free men now

And they brought death to our hometown, boys
Death to our hometown, boys
Death to our hometown, boys
Death to our hometown

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Ηχογράφησε τον πρώτο του δίσκο στα 17 του, το 1949, ενώ έπαιζε στη μπάντα του John Lee Hooker και έβγαζε τα προς το ζην εργαζόμενος στην ψαραγορά του Σικάγο.  Ο Iverson Minter, όπως ήταν το πραγματικό του όνομα του Louisiana Red, είχε χάσει τη μητέρα του μια εβδομάδα μετά τη γέννησή του ενώ στα 8 του χρόνια είδε τον πατέρα του να δολοφονείται από την Ku Klux Klan. Επαιξε δίπλα σε μια σειρά από μάστορες του blues  (Muddy Waters, Elmore James, Robert Nighthawk, Lightnin’ Hopkins, John Lee Hooker), ήρθε στην Ελλάδα αρκετές φορές όπου ηχογράφησε και έπαιξε με τον Ζωρζ Πιλαλί, το Στέλιο Βαμβακάρη, τους Blues Wire…

Από το 1980 ζούσε στη Γερμανία, όπου και έφυγε στις 25/2 σ’ ένα νοσοκομείο. Ο θάνατός του ανακοινώθηκε προχτές (27/2) μέσω της ιστοσελίδας του

Δες και ….ΕΔΩ

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