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The playlist for Sunday 13 January 8pm to 9pm Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans FrontieresNetroots Radio is there for ya, baby!
~~ "The Chemistry of Prayer" ~~
1 - Grateful Dead -- "Box of Rain"
2 - Jeff Buckley -- "Lilac Wine"
3 - Kate Bush -- "And So Is Love"
4 - Porno For Pyros -- "Wishing Well"
5 - Les Negresses Vertes -- "L'Homme des Marais"
6 - Herbie Mann -- "Coming Home, Baby"
7 - Sam & Dave -- "If Something Is Wrong With My Baby"
8 - Otis Redding -- "More Than Words Can Say"
9 - Carla Thomas -- "When Tomorrow Comes"
10 - Cake -- "It's Coming Down"
11 - Chris Whitley -- "Drifting"
12 - Abdullah Ibrahim -- "Mountain in the Night"
13 - Calexico -- "When Only the Ashes Are Left"
14 - Mount Madonna Choir -- "Subhan Allah"
15 - Daniel Lanois -- "The Deadly Nightshade"
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He looked down at his withering body and saw a hair
near his navel, swaying.
And now he saw his other hairs rise up.
He felt a hectic current in his veins.
Looking within, he saw the bubbling of his blood.
He cursed his fever, saying:
“It is the chemistry of prayer.
It increases in frequency,
seeding panic to all my being.
My cells swell with the liquid of guilt they fabricate,
juices of hatred eat my belly
my corpuscles make war in me as they devour each other.
My head heats in the combustion of anxiety,
I am polluted by the secretions of my soul’s decay,
while my brain wears away
with the scratching night and day
on the encephalograph of prayer.
I grow monstrous with the leukemia of the world.”
And he heard the hair say: “Hear me.”
And he saw it grow gray as it waved.
All his hairs he saw whiten,
and, numberless, wilt from their erect electric listening.
He saw them topple from their roots.
“How dare you!” he cursed them.
There surged a brief resuscitation to his body.
His heart took heart and pounded twice
with the health of fear
But then the plague of prayer redoubled and overwhelmed him.
In his feebleness he raged, and said:
“I will tear out this evil and free it.”
With his withered hands he tore the remaining hairs
from his body and head.
With his nails he opened his breast,
and with his fist he exploded his heart,
which erupted, a black and red volcano.
As his brain tasted, for the first time,
the birth of his doom,
he came a rolling tide, a floating mountain of ecstasy.
“I see you! I love you!” his eyes cried,
overflowing with his bright blood.
“You were the light of the world
that are now my gushing tears—
the kind and fiery tears of chaos, that wash my eyes
with the cure of oblivion.”
“He hears us!” cried his sick blood
pouring from his ears.
“Even as of old he heard our hair before it perished.”
With his last strength, the chemistry of prayer,
a few drops of his blood coagulated.
That clot whirled out, free, in the vortex of the universe.
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
Rest in Peace Aaron Swartz
(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)