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The playlist for Sunday 16 February 8pm to 9pm Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans FrontieresWho luvs ya, baby?
~~ "Our Future House Burning Like A Star On The Hill" ~~
1 - Bobby Womack -- "Across 110th Street"
2 - Rose Batiste -- "Nobody Loves Me Like My Baby"
3 - Brenda Holloway -- "Starting The Hurt All Over Again"
4 - Brook Benton -- "My True Confession"
5 - Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell -- "Your Precious Love"
6 - Linda Jones -- "I'll Be Sweeter Tomorrow"
7 - The Four Tops -- "Still Water Love"
8 - Marvelettes -- "Destination Anywhere"
9 - The Velvelettes -- "He Was Really Saying Something"
10 - Bill Withers - "Just The Two Of Us"
11 - The Stanley Brothers -- "Pass Me Not O' Gentle Savior."
12 - Big Mama Thornton -- "Wade In The Water"
13 - Little Axe -- "Down To The Valley"
14 - Bobby McFerrin -- "Psalm 23"
15 - Chris Thomas King -- "Revelations"
16 - Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris & Linda Ronstadt -- "In My Hour of Darkness"
17 - Daniel Lanois -- "Where Will I Be"
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Go ahead, now you can listen while roaming the Big Orange and beyond!
There are trees and they are on fire. There are hummingbirds and they are on fire. There are graves and they are on fire and the things coming out of the graves are on fire. The house you grew up in is on fire. There is a gigantic trebuchet on fire on the edge of a crater and the crater is on fire. There is a complex system of tunnels deep underneath the surface with only one entrance and one exit and the entire system is filled with fire. There is a wooden cage we’re trapped in, too large to see, and it is on fire. There are jaguars on fire. Wolves. Spiders. Wolf-spiders on fire. If there were people. If our fathers were alive. If we had a daughter. Fire to the edges. Fire in the river beds. Fire between the mattresses of the bed you were born in. Fire in your mother’s belly. There is a little boy wearing a fire shirt holding a baby lamb. There is a little girl in a fire skirt asking if she can ride the baby lamb like a horse. There is you on top of me with thighs of fire while a hot red fog hovers in your hair. There is me on top of you wearing a fire shirt and then pulling the fire shirt over my head and tossing it like a fireball through the fog at a new kind of dinosaur. There are meteorites disintegrating in the atmosphere just a few thousand feet above us and tiny fireballs are falling down around us, pooling around us, forming a kind of fire lake which then forms a kind of fire cloud. There is this feeling I get when I am with you. There is our future house burning like a star on the hill. There is our dark flickering shadow. There is my hand on fire in your hand on fire, my body on fire above your body on fire, our tongues made of ash. We are rocks on a distant and uninhabitable planet. We have our whole life ahead of us.
Voices and Soul appears on Black Kos Tuesday's Chile; poetry chosen and critiqued by Black Kos Poetry Editor Justice Putnam.
Question: Who is your audience? What are you here for?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Answer: Tribal Alliances, Heart-felt Convictions, Passionate Reason, Random Abandon, Sustainable Civility and a kiss; to comfort the sad and the mad Ones; the Ones roaming the International section of the American Supermarket at night; or roaming the neglected streets looking for an angry malaprop to sink their teeth into; the Ones who seek without seeking and learn as much as they teach; the Ones who embrace and kiss and embrace again; the Ones who sing the song of the city and the ballads of the forest; the Ones who chant the rhythm of the sea and hum the melody of the desert; the Ones who sing the prayer of Her name and Her name is the World. Yes, those are the Ones. -- JP
(Can you help folks in need heat their homes and cook their food on the Rosebud and Pine Ridge Reservations. Navajo has an important diary posted with all the particulars. Even a small amount can work towards building the minimum.
Could you please help?)
So that explains it... !
... Or does it?
(Rail Road Crossing, Sonoma California / copyright Justice Putnam)
(Farm Road and Running Fence, Olema, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
"Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had no bard to sing their praises."
"Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- Charles Kingsley
A Van Gogh
Hillsides and woods
In which the
Of nearly every
But I had become
Bound by guilt
Of the truth.
I came to believe
That in a sense
Was the same
In the park
I came to believe
That the measure
Was the amount
I could survive.
Like a crushed
By a colony of ants
But I had often
Cut my finger
From the beauty
Of a long-stemmed rose.
So I realized
In those final moments
What had actually
My life was
A series of patterns
A self created
Maze that offered
That I was
By its weight
I had no
Left to survive
With my own
I had sought
Between the legs
Only to make
Weakness of heart.
Between my fingers
(Portland, Oregon and Los Angeles, California 1978)
(from: Part 3 "And Memory Became A Fading Melody")
Rest in Peace Aaron Swartz
(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)