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I'm Special Agent DJ Justice; Radio Host and Program 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 13 April 14 8pm to 9pm Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans Frontieres
~~ "The Face of Her Sister Whose Cheek is Buried in Wildflowers" ~~
1 - Skatalites -- "Simmer Down"
2 - Dennis Brown -- "Man Next Door"
3 - Peter Tosh -- "Downpressor Man"
4 - Black Uhuru -- "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?"
5 - Baby Huey -- "Hard Times"
6 - Nina Simone -- "Rags and Old Iron"
7 - The Charmels -- "Dear Uncle Sam"
Station Break
8 - Robbie Robertson -- "The Sound is Fading"
9 - Tinariwen -- "Afours Afours"
10 - Mount Madonna Choir -- "Alle Psallite"
11 - Ojos de Brujo -- "Tiempo de Solea"
12 - Caribou -- "The Barn"
13 - Cafe Americaine -- "L' amour"
14 - Burning Hearts -- "Iris"
Who luvs ya, baby?
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Go ahead, now you can listen while roaming the Big Orange and beyond!
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(12-String Ovation Balladeer Astoria, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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In Safeway yesterday, a young man sat on the floor,
pulled off his shoes, granted audience to us,
his fellow seekers, and picked his naked feet.
He smiled, our brother, at the story he told
of deliverance at the hand of Master Tombo,
lord and creator, whose round energy
lives in us surrounds us surrounds our milk
our butter our eggs: see Him there,
in the Slurpee glaze upon the freezer case?
In that elder by the yogurt shelves?
I believed his happiness and coveted
a tidy universe. He picked his feet
while a child whimpered by the melons, her nanny’s
mango aura made the cold blown air
touch my brain, I smelled myself in my aging body
and felt my silly bones collapse again.
I wanted Tombo’s dispensation to save
this faint believer and the indifferent world
that rivers through and past me. Down my aisle
lavender respired from the flower stall
and Security spoke kind words to our prophet.
Oh I love and hate the fickle messy wash
of speech and flowers and winds and the tides
and crave plain rotund stories
to justify our continuity. To the Maya corn was god,
spilled blood made corn grow,
the blood gods shed watered needy ground
and became People who worshipped the corn.
Tombo’s grace carries us, convinced, from one
inarticulate incoherent moment to the next.
Tonight the wet streets and their limelight sigh.
Orion turns, burning, unchanged again.
Bread rises somewhere and its ovens scent the trees.
My poor belief lives in the only and all
of the slur of what these are, and what these are
streams toward loss in moments we live through.
As children we were lost in our opaque acts
but fresh and full in time. I remember
how I touched a girlish knee, how one boy
broke another’s face, how we all stood
in hard gray summer rain so it would run
down the tips of noses to our tongues.
W.S. Di Piero
"Tombo"
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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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(Farm Road and Running Fence, Olema, 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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