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I'm Special Agent DJ Justice; Radio Host and Program / Artistic Director for Netroots Radio.com; and I'm manning the dials, spinning the discs, warbling the woofers, putting a slip in your hip and a trip to your hop.
The playlist for Sunday 6 January 8pm to 9pm Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans FrontieresNetroots Radio is there for ya, baby!
~~ "Where The Bodies Finally Fall To Rest" ~~
1 - Sam & Dave -- "You Got Me Hummin'"
2 - The Charmels -- "Dear Uncle Sam"
3 - Carla Thomas -- "Something Good"
4 - Eddie Floyd -- "Knock on Wood"
5 - The Bar Kays -- "Soul Finger"
6 - William Bell -- "Everybody Loves A Winner"
7 - Serge Gainsbourg -- "J'taime Moi Non Plus"
8 - Nouvelle Vague -- "Bella Lugosi Is Dead"
9 - Frances Cabrel -- "La Corrida"
10 - Half Head Special -- "Shine The Sun"
11 - John Hammond -- "2:19"
12 - Heartless Bastards -- "Out At Sea"
13 - Phillip Glass & Foday Musa Suso -- "Warda's Whorehouse"
14 - Agricantus -- "Tenere"
15 - Sinead O'Connor -- "Empire"
16 - Ennio Morricone -- "Ecstasy Of Gold"
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Go ahead, now you can listen while roaming the Big Orange and beyond!
Knots like two dozen fists
swayed with want from the boy’s
kaffiyeh, that black and white scarf
with its useless hands clopping
against the wind in protest
against this boy and his somebody
lost, against their own swaying
in a dance the lost body has lost.
A boy. A somebody lost. A body bodied
in the lights of inauguration night
when every light in the city flared
with hope. Always losing, always
a boy left with a dozen weights,
small circles on strings pulling
his head down to the ground.
Downcast. Drop your bucket here
and make the city yours and all
that jive keeps him from running.
Escaping the pavement, where
bodies finally fall to rest.
The kaffiyeh keeps him from
bucking against the wind,
hurtling himself to the Grey-
hound or Amtrak or I-95
with a book bag and hitched finger.
His head shrouded in the black
and white, the knots keeping
his eyes down as he traverses
neighborhoods with names like 3rd
World, with names like a nation
falling. And the coffin-voiced
boy is who god tells us he will
save, and so those swinging knots
must be a kind of redemption,
a way to see the bullets that bury
you, constantly, as if death is
the disguise hiding your wings.
-- Reginald Dwayne Betts
"For the City that Nearly Broke Me"
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)
"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
(m/8) Taking the steps
Down to the sea
The coast of Normandy
Where the white
Where men rushed
And died violently
Was to plead with
(m/8) Could be
Of the Sioux
They were on
They were all
Thinking of you
Could be in
In the South Pacific
Or the Persian Gulf
An Indonesian jungle
Or an Arctic hut
Could be in a
Or a cold water den
(coda) We’ll all grasp
At that last
Bit of hope
In the end with
© 2005 Justice Putnam
Fleur du Sel Musique
and Mechanisches-Strophe Verlagswesen
(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)