Israelis Kill Unarmed Protesters, Barely Notice

Write down: I, Uri Avnery, soldier number 44410 of the Israel army, hereby dissociate myself from the army sharpshooters who murder unarmed demonstrators along the Gaza Strip, and from their commanders, who give them the orders, up to the commander in chief. We don’t belong to the same army, or to the same state. We – Uri Avnery for Antiwar.com Original

Source: Israelis Kill Unarmed Protesters, Barely Notice

Posted in Uncategorized

East v. West

keep heading east

and you’ll find your way

home

then keep heading west

and you’ll find your way

home

and east becomes west

and the test is to see

that home is wherever

you’re happy

and free

and the Silk Road we ride

will lead us to believe

that no army can stop

what we’re bound to achieve

and we’ll grieve

all our losses

but we’ll never stop

we’ll forever be near

just a jump,

skip,

and hop

and up,

up

and away

some may say

don’t head south

but they’re stuck

like peanut butter sticks

to the roof

of their mouth

so, just keep heading south

and you’ll get to the north

after east,

west,

north,

south,

you might wind up

in forth

but the medals are stolen

bronze,

silver,

and gold

you don’t need buried treasure

for fortunes untold

not foretold

show and tell

angel fell from on high

this path is a circle

so look to the sky

read the stars

and you’ll find

your way

out of this mess

there’s no need for diamonds

no queen to impress

dress right,

dress

about face

the sun rises and sets

theres no pie

in the sky

it’s as good

as it gets

 

our debts

keep us shackled

to streets

paved with gold

but two feet

in the grave

before we ever

grow old

we’re ice cold

to our neighbors

forget about looking east

we pay for the burden

keep feeding the beast

pumping gas in the fire

as we’re fanning the flames

forever, we’re losing

no matter the games

we keep paying

and playing

and eating this bread

from this tightrope we walk on

we can’t see the dead

the west

looks the best

from where we’re at up here

but even if

we look down

we can’t see

through the fear

the lions are hungry

the tigers are wild

but let them go feast

on some other man’s child

war bothers me not

I turn two

blind eyes

and I don’t even blink

when a two year old

dies

and his family

and friends

and whole villages

burn

from this tightrope

I walk on

I can’t see the world

turn

wearing blinders

my eyes

only see

my own pain

live in fear

of my neighbors

like a painter

fears rain

though he lives

in the desert

not a cloud

in the sky

every moment

he worries

that he won’t

stay dry

 

the flys I the ointment

the eggs in the pan

the cats in the cradle

of uncivilized man

tit for tat

this and that

choose to sit out

the game

don’t even remember

when all this fear came

year in

and year out

scream and shout

from soapboxes

keep teaching the chickens

to out smart the foxes

burn these boxes of briefs

oh, the Chiefs won the game

and the Redskins are angry

the Cowboys

the same

slings and arrows

and sparrows

will sing from the wire

we’ll bring you more gold

until we retire

and our dreams

they all fade

into ashes and dust

and we cry

as all of our possessions rust

and in God we trusted

through thick

and through thin

as the preacher,

politician,

and businessman

board private jets

with devilish grins

and fly into the sunset

while we’re still looking east

unhappy in famine

unhappy in feast

unhappy in life

always worried of death

this fear we are hooked on

is worse than heroin

and meth

the only real enemy

is inside our mind

but we keep looking east

so we’ll never find

that the answer is written

inside of us all

let Caesar

keep stacking cards

and surely they’ll fall

like Rome fell

kiss and tell

wishing well

drink it up

then reach down again

once more

fill up your cup

 

too abrupt

gone corrupt

walk in circles all day

there’s blood in the water

dead fish in the bay

some may say

but don’t listen

because none of its real

don’t take roads less traveled

and before the queen

kneel

seal the deal

feel your way

through the forest

at night

oh, there’s nothing to fear

when you turn out

the light

out of sight

out of mind

in a bind

cut and run

whenever you’re lost

simply follow

the sun

you’ll go east

you’ll go west

you’ll be tested

and tried

and the truth is

the only

thing that can’t hide

 

rising tide

old tie dye

worn out

tattered

and torn

indie flicks

hippie chicks

bags of subsidized corn

keep us fed

on this path

that we blaze

in the sand

here and there

everywhere

lets dig in

take a stand

leave the flock

save a rock

skipping stones

through the sky

babble on

millions gone

do we care

when they die?

taxes paid

wreaths are laid

an old gravedigger cries

burried youth

burried truth

since day one

you have lied

trinity test

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

bombs away

hope and pray

we believe

that we’re free

north and south

hand to mouth

we keep feeding

the flame

don’t you dare

say you care

we all share

in the blame

times are tough

drafts are rough

beer is flowing

like wine

edit still

drink your fill

patriotic moonshine

wagons east

slay the beast

that we’ve raised

all these years

sun has set

I regret

living shrouded

in fear

east and west

north and south

it’s all one

and the same

weapons raised

I’m not phased

this is all

just a game

bury me

out at sea

wash away all the pain

here and there

city square

and the beast

is now slain.

Posted in Uncategorized

How Do You Remain

how do you remain silent

in a world filled with such violence?

how do you look the other way

and pretend everything’s okay?

how do you continue to pay for war

that you sheepishly ignore?

how do you sleep at night

as millions fight the oppression you condone?

when you realize it’s unjust, stand up

you are not alone!

 

We are many, the rulers few

there is nothing we cannot do

so raise your fist, pour out your glass

unplug your TV, get off your ass

join the masses far and near

resist the war, have no fear

tell the taxman ‘not today’

to kill civilians, you will not pay!

You’ll pay for health care,

you’ll pay for schools

but not for wars started by fools.

 

 

Posted in poem, Poetry, taxes, Uncategorized, war, war tax resistance | Tagged , , , ,

There Are No Innocent People

“There are no innocent people in the Gaza Strip”

Said Israeli Defence Minister Avigdor Liberman.

So the 30 unarmed Palestinians,

including a journalist killed by a sniper

while clearly wearing a PRESS vest,

those 30 unarmed Palestinians

were not innocent.

That were guilty of something

they were guilty of existing

they were guilty of non-violently resisting

they were guilty of not keeping their fucking mouths shut

they were guilty of…of

they were guilty of being Palestinian

they were guilty of being cast as the villain

Israel’s army said it “does not intentionally target journalists”

but at least six journalists were hit by Israeli gunfire on Friday

in addition to the one killed by a sniper.

Those journalists were not innocent

they were guilty of

bearing witness

to man’s inhumanity to man

bearing witness

to ethnic cleansing

bearing witness to

absolute insanity

bearing witness to

crimes against humanity

bearing witness to

history’s rhymes.

“There are no innocent people in the Gaza Strip”

Said Israeli Defence Minister Avigdor Liberman

because, if you say there are no innocent people

you can slaughter them like lambs

and cast yourself as the good shepherd

merely tending his own flock

and from fear, they follow you

not realizing their fleece is the same

as those you slaughter,

that their blood is the same

as those you slaughter

that they are the same

as those you slaughter

that Ishmael and Isaac were brothers

and a few crazed descendants

cannot prune their cousins

from the family tree

cannot rewrite history.

Palestine was not a land without a people

for a people without a land,

Palestine had and has people

they are called Palestinians

and they are guilty only of existing

guilty only of refusing to be pruned

from their family tree

guilty only of refusing to let go of the key

to the homes

their grandparents

and great-grandparents were forced to flee from

seven decades ago

they are guilty only of resisting oppression

and refusing to let go of their roots

and as an old farmer harvests olives

from a two-thousand year old tree

and a young soldier shoots and kills him

he is but a limb, pruned

but the tree grows on

as his grandchildren pick up the key

and harvest olives

and cry for their grandfather

and cry for their sisters and brothers in Gaza

and cry for their cousins in the IDF,

they forgive them

for they know not what they do…

for, if only they knew

they would join their cousins in the harvest

and stop cutting down two-thousand year old olive trees,

for, if only they knew

they would divest

from everything that leads to more death

they would affirm life

and they would ignore the masters of war

turning them into monsters

turning them into something

that would make their own grandparents cry.

 

Posted in Gaza, palestine, poem, Poetry, pumpkin festival, Uncategorized

Remembering Dr. King 50 Years Later

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military
defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death”
On April 4th, 1967, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. publicly spoke out against
the war in Vietnam. Exactly one year later, he was assassinated. He had
long understood the connection between war abroad, and extreme poverty and
inequality at home. However, he had bitten his tongue for years not
wanting to lose support for the civil rights movement, but he realized
that he couldn’t live with himself if he remained silent, and that he was
failing in his role as a Christian. He lost friends, support, and his
access to President Johnson, but his conscience was clear. He placed truth
above appeasement. He broke his silence.

King said the war in Vietnam was not the problem, it was, “but a symptom
of a far deeper malady within the American spirit, and if we ignore this
sobering reality, we will find ourselves organizing ‘clergy and laymen
concerned’ committees for the next generation. We will be marching and
attending rallies without end, unless there is a significant and profound
change in American life and policy.” That change never came, and that
malady has only gotten worse in the fifty years since his death. Though we
have seen a black president, unarmed black people are still being killed
by the police with impunity. For millions living in poverty and in prison,
and for those we call ‘collateral damage’ overseas, Obama was just another
president. He was at the helm of an empire, wearing Caesar’s clothes like
Bush before him, and Trump after.

America has military personnel stationed in over 150 countries, not
counting Hawaii. We’re engaged in combat in about a dozen, not counting
over 80 countries where special forces are carrying out missions. As Dr.
King said, “I knew America would never invest the necessary funds or
energies in rehabilitation of it’s poor so long as adventures like Vietnam
continued to draw men, skills, and money like some demonic destructive
suction tube.”

Remember King’s words as you prepare your taxes. Think about what you’re
actually paying for. Over half of federal taxes go to the military. Since
9/11, the wars have cost over 5 TRILLION dollars, and well over a million
innocent lives. Consider using your money to support programs of social
uplift instead. Consider tax-resistance. Visit WarResisters.Org to learn
more.

 

Posted in Afghanistan, america, american dream, Black Lives Matter, civil rights, collateral damage, history, human rights, Iraq, IRS, Jesus, slavery, Standing Rock, Syria, taxes, Uncategorized, Vietnam, war, war tax resistance, Yemen | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Wings On The Vulture

Let us wake now from this sleep

before there’s nothing left for the meek to inherit

the missionaries stole it and their kids won’t share it

as they still fly old glory over stolen land

broken with bibles and pineapples, canned

and shipped to Rome from fields of plastic

lets thank Ke Akua that the āina’s elastic

stretch but don’t snap, bend but don’t break

the land will be fine but the people can’t take much more

and Hawaii is still a nation at war

occupied and colonized, it’s sociocide

as Uncle Sam slowly tries to kill a culture

we fund the empire, we put wings on the vulture

as it leaves sacred land polluted and bombed out

and turns to the east in search of a new route

a new treasure map showing soon-to-be bones

if Cook found it yesterday, today we’d use drones

and Kanaka Maoli would be synonymous with Al-Qaeda or ISIS

thankfully thats not the case today, but still we must resist

because every Afghani, every Iraqi, every Syrian, every Yemeni and every Palestinian

killed with the bombs that our taxes pay for

are Hawaiian, are Japanese, are HUMAN, one and all

together we stand or divided we fall

we all must resist just like Gandhi and King

and we’ll be amazed at the things

that non-violence can bring

so as refugees sing a redemption song

lets emancipate ourselves and sing along

lets not pay for the bombs and the bullets that fly

lets not just shrug as our family dies

and complain that there’s nothing that we can do

if we pull the plug, then the war is through

though the taxman might scare you and fill you with fear

we fuel the oppression year after year

we paid for the rope, we paid for the crosses

we paid for all of humanities losses

we funded Columbus, we fueled merchant ships

we paid for James Cook on all of his trips

now I suggest we resist funding more death

so before we die we might share in the breath of life

without being complicit in the death of our sisters and brothers

and the desecration of the earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Afghanistan, america, drones, earth, empathy, farming, Gaza, goats, god, government, guns, hawaii, human rights, humanity, Japan, life, oceans, oil, palestine, poem, Poetry, Syria, taxes, truth, Uncategorized, war, war tax resistance | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The People Danced

The bullets stopped flying

and the machine guns turned

into musical instruments

and a symphony of death

became a symphony of life

as soldier after soldier

on both sides

of the imaginary divide

joined together as one

playing the most beautiful music

and the people danced

through the rubble

taking care

to not to step on the dead.

Posted in Afghanistan, death, Iraq, life, music, poem, Poetry, Syria, Uncategorized, war, Yemen | Tagged , , , , ,