Twenty-Two HUMAN BEINGS

vets

CT NATO_Protests0029.JPG

September is Suicide Prevention Month.
According to the government,
22 veterans commit suicide
every day.
It’s probably
a lot higher.
Twenty-two is just a number, a statistic
but there are names and faces
devastated families,
friends
and communities
They say twenty-two a day
but what does that mean?
22 men and women
dubbed as heroes
by the US government
by politicians
the media
and a tax-paying public
that has grown ‘numb’
to the repeated drums
of war
after war
after war
after war,
these 22 women and men
every single day
are discarded and forgotten
by all those calling us heroes
and who shed less and less
alligator tears
by the day
for our sisters and brothers
still dying in war
after war
after thirteen years
of war
and the DHS
says we’re a threat
calls us unstable
Uncle Sam dehumanizes those
he called heroes
with a label,
but it’s not a disorder
and it’s not a disease
and maybe it’s got something
to do with empathy
with not being ok
with day after day
after war
after war
and then the President says
wait, wait…
there’s more
war
more
death and destruction
more bullshit elections
more marching us
further from sanity
while saying,
fuck the directions
it’s almost as though
they’re spinning a globe
like we used to do
as little kids
wondering where we
were going to live,
but instead of
using their imagination
they get high
off destroying
civilization,
and expect us not to care
when our sweat, blood, and tears
didn’t get us anywhere
moving humanity backwards
and nonchalantly starting
“another” Iraq war…
while the graveyard of empires weeps
the children of Afghanistan
will never sleep
soundly through the night
their whole lives
have been a big fight
just to survive
a struggle
just to stay alive
and we’re still there
and America still doesn’t care
not that we ever really did
but we still give
toy soldiers
to little kids
and still wave our flags
from time to time…
and
TWENTY-TWO A DAY IS A FUCKING CRIME
because one is too many
and because we’re human beings
not fucking statistics
and every single politician
has blood on their hands
for thinking that
destroying Afghanistan
and Iraq
wouldn’t blow up
in our face…
and if humanity was a race
we’d be losing
if we hadn’t already lost,
and unless the bombs
are dropping
on your neighborhood
you don’t know the cost…
unless, that is
you’re in the other 1%
and you get home from war
and struggle
just to make rent
and struggle
juggling prescriptions
and addictions
from trying to avoid
all the news you hear
that keeps contradicting
reality
it’s full of brainwashing
fallacy
propagating fear
to sell more war
after war
after war
and after they’ve misused you
and abused you
and drugged you
when it would have been
more humane
to drag you out back
and shoot you
or to hug you
and actually LOVE you
it finally dawns on you
that the New Dawn has ended
and daylights fading
and you face eviction
and conviction
for a drunken fight
even though you know
you’re right
and society’s wrong
it’s a somber song
that only few can hear
and falls on deaf ears
that you’re right to care
and to know it’s not fair
and that the world is fucked
but you’re out of luck
stuck
next to your
broken down
piece-of-shit
made-in-America
truck
that’s been running on fumes
for too long,
a rolling tomb,
a shell
of what it was
years ago
and there you are
stuck
on the side of the road
with that million-mile stare
out beyond nowhere,
and the midnight train
ain’t coming
and you’re left humming
that tune
that you try to forget
that patriotic tune
trapped in your head
that no snake-oil
can erase,
“Johnny, get your gun, get your gun, get your gun…”
and you don’t want it anymore
but can never give it back
“Hurry right away, no delay, go today…”
But after it’s over
the lines at the VA
are a mile long
and they end in
mountains of pills
“Make your daddy glad to have had such a lad…”
and you can’t stand your family,
and you can’t face your own reflection
“Tell your sweetheart not to pine,
To be proud her boy’s in line…”
and when you no longer love yourself
it gets harder to say
‘I love you’ to someone else
and mean it.
“Hoist the flag and let her fly
Yankee Doodle do or die…”
and you get sick to your stomach
whenever you see the flag
because you know it’s blood-soaked
and used to hide the bodies
“Make your mother proud of you
and the old red white and blue…”
and when you look at the sky
you know god doesn’t exist
because if he did
and the blue sky is blue
because he loves you
he wouldn’t kill all your friends
“Send the word, send the word over there…”
and you realize
that practically everything
you were ever taught and told
is a lie
“That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming
the drums rum-tumming everywhere…”
and you can’t forget
that fucking song
“So prepare, say a prayer,
Send the word, send the word to beware…”
and you figured out
to beware
so you try
to start running
but you’re ragged,
can’t sleep
with all those war drums
rum-tumming
jagged tunes
of more war
after war
after war
but you got
quicksand feet now
and there are
too many fields
left to plow
but all you have
is swords
no plow shares
and there is no
sharing the blame
who’s to blame
anyhow?
Uncle Sam?
You?
Me?
Them?
but it doesn’t matter
you’re madder than the hatter
pickled from too many
government pills
a deer in headlights
shoot to kill
no more left
right
left
shoot to thrill
and the light is too bright
and I’m too tired
to fight
so with my last breath
I scratch my swansong exit
stage left
into the pavement
“We’ll be over, we’re coming over…”
someone called the cops
about the crazy guy
on the side of the road
in a drugged out haze,
smoke billowing out
of the American-made
truck
and it looks like he’s got a gun
and he won’t run
and hide,
he’d rather get high
on adrenaline
one last time

Fuck…

“And we won’t come back
till it’s over,
over there!”
and you wish
that you never
made it back,
but we did
and we were all
just kids
back then
and now we’ve grown
into broken men
and women
and 22 of us a day
according to the VA
are going to
take our own lives
tomorrow
twenty-two of us a day
see no other way
out of this mess
but there is,
at least I hope there is…

peas

LibertyBarn

#TrashBucketChallenge

on August 18th, there was a yellow bucket on a beach on Oahu’s North Shore. We picked it up, filled it with trash, and half-jokingly made a video which we posted to facebook the following day. An environmental activist and surfer in Hawaii saw the video, and made his own. His has been shared over 11,000 times. A man in Tunis, Tunisia saw the video and took the challenge, and his video has been shared OVER 60,000 TIMES so far on youtube! It’s spread around the globe in the past month, and there are so many amazing people being the change they want to see in the world…
please check it out, and take the challenge if you have the time, i hereby challenge you :-)

tbc

https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10102903618057963&set=vb.3214401&type=2&theater

(from Trash Bucket Challenge Facebook page)

About
Get a bucket (or bag). Go to a beach, park, or anywhere else, and pick up trash until the bucket is full. Properly dispose and recycle. Challenge friends.

Description
We have a new challenge for YOU! #trashbucketchallenge. We had the good fortune to spend a beautiful weekend camping on the North Shore, and walk along some of the most pristine beaches. However, on our walks we came across the not so pretty sights of humanity: trash, trash, and more trash (not to mention plenty of dead fish that probably ate some of the trash). On our walk we FOUND a 5-gallon bucket on the beach and in less than 30 minutes filled it up to the brim. We challenge you to do the same, post a pic or video of yourself with a bucket (or bag) full of trash you picked up from either a beach, a park, neighborhood, or anywhere that can use a cleaning and properly dispose of it (meaning recycle what can be recycled and throw the rest in the garbage) Don’t forget to tag it: #trashbucketchallenge. Tell your family, tell students, tell your neighbors, let’s do this together, and let’s make a difference… It’s Earth Day, everyday. I challenge YOU! #trashbucketchallenge
#Leaveonlyyourfootprints
#AlohaAina
#MalamaYourMama
#sustainablecoastlineshawaii
#Reduce #Reuse #Recycle

and here is an article in my college newspaper this week:

http://www.umassmedia.com/news/umass_boston_news/umass-boston-student-creates-trash-bucket-challenge/article_3c71e96a-39d9-11e4-bcee-001a4bcf6878.html

Hero

Hero.

Just found out another brother couldn’t take it anymore. May you finally find peace, brother.

RIP Jacob George

Here is Jacob and his banjo… “Soldier’s Heart”

here were his thoughts on the 10th anniversary of 9/11

 

SOS: Sacrifice Our Souls…an ode to violence, america’s pastime

SOS

Sacrifice Our Souls… an ode to violence, america’s pastime 

beerGuy

guilty-bloody-hands

Fallen Disney princesses

Are no longer needed

To hide the military

And the mercenaries

As they continue to spread

World War Three

To more and more countries

Filled with dehumanized masses

Our Brown and black

Sisters and brothers

Praying to the wrong version

Of a monotheistic god

This sibling rivalry

has gotten out of hand

Ishmael was the first born

But his Poppa had to raise Cain

Because the maid was undocumented

And finally Mama made Isaac

And ashes to ashes

And dust to dust

And Abraham was the father

Of genital mutilation

And Isis is an African Goddess

And the CIA stole her name

And carved it

Into a rock (Iraq)

With a butchers knife

Yet again defiling black women

And that Sarah was a spiteful wife

Old Abe should have

Stayed with the maid

But he was willing

To sacrifice a Lot…

Though, was it ‘god’ telling him

To behead his son

Or just the twisted voice

Inside his head?

But so it is written,

And it’s all the same

Year after year

War after war

And we cheer as Adrian Peterson scores

As some scream and yell

At Roger Goodell

But Ray Rice’s wife should have known better,

Some say,

She should have expected

all the roid rage… SHE’S to blame!

And just like Mike Brown and Trayvon,

We’re great at blaming victims

Or bombing them,

As long as they’re Brown

or Black

Or as long as they were

Born in Iraq

Or somewhere like it,

We don’t give a shit

If they’re gunned down

By cops

Or drones

Or poor farm and city kids

With dreams of VA loans…

And these bread and circuses

Have been genetically modified

They’re in our blood now

And it boils

When the newsman talks

Of war on our streets

Between “thugs” and police

And the cops can kill

Any black or brown kid they want,

Label him a criminal

And all is forgotten

The blood on the government’s hands

Washes away

Come game day

And OF COURSE

We want Adrian Peterson

And Ray Rice to play

For the love of the game

For the love of the

Cowboys and Redskins

Skinny dipping

GMO chips into settlement hummus

Is the ballgame on?

Yes, but the president

is giving a speech

about another war in the Middle East…

but that makes me feel bad

plus, fuck Baghdad

better them than us, right?

And we’re right where they want us

Glued to the TV

Watching the disciples

of Edward Bernays preach,

and locked in our rooms

watching porn on the computer screen

Instead of watching

the universe in our lovers eyes

too stressed out from

nine to five

thankless jobs we hate

family and friends we tolerate

significant others we take for granted

and long walks on the beach are too romantic

but…

fuck it,

grab a bucket

hit the beach and pick up trash

but stay out of the water

in some places

or you’ll probably get a rash

but they have pills for that

and if you’re too fat to get it up

there’s pills for that

and if you’re too depressed to get out of bed

there’s pills for that

and if you think that you’d be better off dead

there’s pills for that

but beware of all the suicide-side effects

after all, they could give a fuck about us

they have a bottom line

and if you and I die

by our own hand

it’s one less soldier in the fight

one less person

pointing out the mess

that America has become

one less person not afraid

of Johnny and his gun…

no, I won’t give up

and I won’t run

I’ll keep trucking along

Singing these songs

Stuck inside my head

These songs

of freedom and peace…

and fuck the police,

but I love the human beings

behind the badge and the gun

they’re all someone’s daughter or son

they’re our brothers and sisters

and I feel sorry for them

that they don’t see

that I am you

and you are me

and we’re all one

like Preacher Casey says

in Grapes of Wrath

and two paths diverged

but billions of souls all merged

at the beginning of time…

and I don’t wear a watch

and I don’t have an i-phone,

and all time is all time

and truth and justice

are universal

and this isn’t a fucking rehearsal

this is it…

and all the politicians

and all the taxpayers

and all the casualties of war

wake up in the morning

and take a shit,

but only some

wipe their asses

with blood drenched hands…

and is this language too filthy?

And are these words

Too difficult to comprehend?

Oh, I think I got it…

is the ballgame on again…?

Never Forget (or, We Eat Genetically Modified Bread at the Circus)

nevfor

and then Tyke the elephant broke free

crushing her trainer to death

and mauling her groomer

as she made her great escape.

She never forgot

all those years of abuse

being paraded around

thousands of miles

away from her friends and family.

But while she was running

through the streets of Honolulu

the police riddled her body

with nearly 100 bullets

and she lay,

hunched over in the street bleeding,

until she finally died from her wounds

and her days of pain and suffering

were finally over.

The circus she escaped from

has been forgotten

but new circuses

have taken its place,

where new elephants

are put on parade

thousands of miles from home

for the enjoyment of the whole family

with food and beverages available for purchase

for a nominal fee.

The End.

Tyke2

And remember kids,

“There will be no safe haven

For those that kill Americans”

says the president,

And he means it,

If it plays into Uncle Sam’s bloody hands,

That is.

But if you’re a black kid

With your hands up

Uncle Sam don’t give a damn

He won’t cross

The thin blue line,

And if you’re a journalist

He won’t let your family pay ransom

Because Uncle Sam

Needs your beheading,

Needs your death to become

‘A new Pearl Harbor’

Needs to go against

Everything you stood for in life

Though you knew

That violence begets violence

And killing more Muslims

Won’t lead to peace

In the Middle East,

Your death will let Uncle Sam

Keep on playing World Police

And so it is written

And so it goes

And just so all the world knows,

We have better things to do

Than give a fuck about you

Whether you were born in Iraq,

Or born in the states

And happen to be black…

We can’t care…

Because the ballgame is on

And we love watching human beings

Juiced up beyond belief

Get brain injuries

And destroy their knees,

We like our bread and circus

With a side of scandal,

We’re all trapped in Oz

And can’t find the handle…

We’re force-fed GMO corn

We’re hooked on violent porn

We dedicate our lives to corporations

And argue with our partners

Our whole two week vacation

We work and pay taxes and neglect our kids

And curse out the folks living off the grid

‘It’s just plain stupid

And irresponsible.

They think they’re

Better than us with their solar power

and that hippie ass organic food’

we pray to Jesus

but cast stone after stone

and when we’re old,

our kids will remember the neglect

and leave us all alone

in nursing homes

to cry about our wasted lives

and to hang our heads

as the American government

starts another war

with money stolen

from our grandchildren

and they will be

too busy to care

just like we were

because the beer is ice cold.

and the circus is back in town.

*Tyke (1974 – August 20, 1994) was an African elephant who performed with Circus International of Honolulu, Hawaii. On August 20, 1994, during a performance at the Neal Blaisdell Center she killed her trainer and mauled her groomer, causing severe injuries. After a half-hour of chasing down the animal, local law enforcement fired 86 shots at the 8,000 pound animal. Tyke finally collapsed from the wounds and died.

Still and all, why bother? Here's my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone. -Kurt Vonnegut

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