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The playlist for Sunday 17 February 8pm to 9pm Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans Frontieres
~~ "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why" ~~
1 - Kate Bush -- "And So Is Love"
2 - Björk -- "The Hunter"
3 - Melody McKiver -- "Theresa"
4 - Oh Susanna -- "Pueblo"
Station Break
5 - Francis Cabrel -- "Répondez-Moi"
6 - Jacques Brel -- "Le Prochain Amour"
7 - Serge Gainsbourg -- "New York, New York USA"
Station Break
8 - Tenariwen -- "Afours Afours"
9 - Tamikrest -- "Aicha"
10 - Claude Chaloub -- "Don't Wake Me Up"
11 - Souad Massi -- "Houria"
Station Break
12 - First Aid Kit -- "When I Grow Up"
13 - Monica Salmaso -- "Canto em Qualquer Canto"
14 - Dengue Fever -- "Sleepwalking Through The Mekong"
15 - Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band -- "So Sad"
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(12-String Ovation Balladeer Astoria, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay
"What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why"
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Voices and Soul appears on Black Kos Tuesday's Chile; poetry chosen and critiqued by Black Kos Poetry Editor Justice Putnam.
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(Cut Stones and Arch St Ceneri, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
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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
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(Man, Girl and Broken Window Klamath Falls, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(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?)
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So that explains it... !
Sunlight and Water Pitcher Muir Beach / copyright Justice Putnam
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... Or does it?
(Holy Bible and 3 in 1 Oil Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(Rail Road Crossing, Sonoma California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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"Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had no bard to sing their praises."
-- Horace
"Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand."
-- Charles Kingsley
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I could
Remember
The days
When innocence
Was blowing
Like across
A Van Gogh
Meadow
Caressing the
Hillsides and woods
With a
Fragrant
Shimmering
Color.
Innocence
Rising
Above the
Vulgarity
In which the
Existence
Of nearly every
Individual
Is spent.
But I had become
Bound by guilt
And dubious
Of the truth.
I came to believe
That in a sense
Innocence
Was the same
As failing
Holding onto
Innocence
Meant becoming
Dog-lipped
And stranded
In the park
Alone.
I came to believe
That the measure
Of love
Was the amount
Of emotional
Hurt
I could survive.
Not quite
Like a crushed
Butterfly
Picked apart
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
Happened
My life was
A series of patterns
A self created
Maze that offered
No escape
So overwhelming
In its
Awesome-ness
That I was
Incapacitated
By its weight
I had no
Resiliency
Left to survive
I punctured
Myself
With my own
Pursuit of
Beauty.
Again
And again
I had sought
Compassion
And heart-pure
Connection
Between the legs
Of Beauty
Only to make
Visible
My own
Impure
Weakness of heart.
I would
Give up.
I would
Let sadness
String itself
Between my fingers
And memory
Became
A fading
Melody.
(Portland, Oregon and Los Angeles, California 1978)
(from: Part 3 "And Memory Became A Fading Melody")
© 2006 by Justice Putnam
and Mechanisches-Strophe Verlagswesen
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Rest in Peace Aaron Swartz
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(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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