Published Resource    
MemberRajesh Yadav
Typeother
TitleUnpublished ever.. Not in My Name: a Native view of 9/11.
DescriptionFROM: Raja
http://snow.prohosting.com/rajaz/

in the below mentioned poem the author somehow forgot to add the Tibetans & Kurdish ... n all other crimes committed by the religious, governmental, criminal & terrorist organizations & a mixed breed of them all .. active today & in the past.

i agree, all this is truly said, it just appears an epic or a tale of true human barbaric brutality played on this globe, repeated time n again n again.

i agree to pay homage, i agree to be ashamed, i agree to repent n i wow to create a humanity that we all need to live in n let the future generations live into. can you dare this !

love n peace.

raja, new delhi, india.
http://snow.prohosting.com/rajaz/

Forwarded by Ms. Ambika Talwar"


This is pretty powerful stuff. Whether you agree or
not, it really gets you to thinking.


NOT IN MY NAME!

Before I start this poem, I'd like to ask you to join me in a moment of silence in honor of
those who died in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon last September 11th.

I would also like to ask you to offer up a moment of silence for all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned, disappeared, tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those
strikes, for the victims in both Afghanistan and the U.S.

And if I could just add one more thing A full day of silence for the tens of thousands of
Palestinians who have died at the hands of U.S.-backed Israeli forces over decades of
occupation.

Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people, mostly children, who have
died of malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year U.S. embargo against the
country.

Before I begin this poem, two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South
Africa, where homeland security made them! aliens in their own country.

Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, where death rained down and peeled back every layer of concrete, steel, earth and skin and the survivors went on as if alive.

A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam - a people, not a war - for those
who know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their relatives' bones buried in
it, their babies born of it.

A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of a secret war ...
ssssshhhhh .... Say nothing ... we don't want them to learn that they are dead.

Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia, whose names, like the corpses they once represented, have piled up and slipped off our tongues.

Before I begin this poem, An hour of silence for El Salvador ...An afternoon of silence for
Nicaragua ...

Two days of silence for the Guetmaltecos ... None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living! years. 45 seconds of silence

for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas

25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could poke into the sky.

There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains. And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west ...

100 years of silence ..For the hundreds of millions of indigenous peoples from this half of
right here, Whose land and lives were stolen, In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge,
Wounded Knee, Sand Creek, Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears. Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the refrigerator of our consciousness ...

So you want a moment of silence?

And we are all left speechless .. Our tongues snatched
from our mouths Our eyes stapled .. shut ..

A moment of silence And the poets have all been laid to rest The drums disintegrating into dust

Before I begin this poem, You want a moment of silence.

You mourn now as if the world will never be the same .. And the rest of us hope to hell it won't be. Not like it always has been.

Because this is not a 9-1-1 poem This is a 9/10 poem,
It is a 9/9 poem, A 9/8 poem, A 9/7 poem This is a 1492 poem.

This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written

And if this is a 9/11 poem, then

This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971

This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa, 1977

This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison, New York, 1971.

This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.

This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes

This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told

The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks

The 110 stories that that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and Newsweek ignored

This is a poem for interrupting this program.

And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?

We could give you lifetimes of empty:

The unmarked graves

The lost languages

The uprooted trees and histories

The dead stares on the faces of nameless children

Before I start this poem we could be silent forever

Or just long enough to hunger, For the dust to bury us


And you would still ask us For more of our silence.

If you want a moment of silence Then stop the oil pumps Turn off the engines and the

televisions Sink the cruise ships Crash the stock markets Unplug the marquee lights,

Delete the instant messages, Derail the trains, the light rail transit

If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window of Taco Bell, And pay

the workers for wages lost Tear down the liquor stores, The townhouses, the White

Houses, the jailhouses, the Penthouses and the Playboys.

If you want a moment of silence, Then take it On Super Bowl Sunday, The Fourth of July

During Dayton's 13 hour sale

Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful people have gathered

You want a moment of silence Then take it Now, Before this poem begins.

Here, in the echo of my voice, In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand In

the space between bodies in embrace,

Here is your silence Take it. But take it all Don't cut in line. Let your silence begin at the
beginning of crime.

But we, Tonight we will keep right on singing For our dead.

----- Emmanuel Ortiz 9.11.02
Marpessa Kupendua, nattyreb@comcast.net on 10/30/2002
---------
 
Roleproducer
Year2002 
InformationNil 
Orderinghttp://snow.prohosting.com/rajaz/ 
PublisherNo one 

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