- Revolution in the Mind – Marty Noel-Nivoli
- 19:30 Saturday, April 23, 2011 – Roger Houston
- I Am From – Janei Lujan Valentine
- The right word at the right time – Douglas Lamarthe
- The First of May – Jim Smith
- First Step – Mary Getlein
Revolution in the Mind
Sweet, sweet fate
You have given me
A life sublime.
A mystic anarchy
Like a revolution in the mind.
Dear, dear sun
You have shown in me
A light defined.
A violent anarchy
To a revolution in the mind.
A tragedy is being replayed
In a mother’s eyes.
As she silently absorbs
All out lies
While another child dies.
But, from the chamber
Of her many sorrows
Wisdom lights a flame
In her brain,
(in the mind)
Strange, strange time,
You have haunted me
In and out of rhyme.
A cosmic anarchy
In the mind.
19:30 Saturday, April 23, 2011, Oakwood and California…..Resisted I, the urge, until just now. In total silence, hidden. Then, the glow Came through the cracks, began to roll, the stone. I knew, just then, that I was not alone. A month had passed, my isolation pressed Upon me with such gravity. I passed Through unknown levels, deeper did I sink. Oblivion refused to let me think. Somehow, I seemed to manage to hold fast, To see that crimson glow along the west, And suddenly I knew the curse was gone, Was lifted from my shoulders and was done. And so I end my silence, and I know, An angel has passed over me just now…..Roger Houston
I Am From
I am from laughter
From hot sand and cold waves
I am from the many music cultures pumping from large speakers
(it felt like what comfort would be if it were a sound)
I am from palm tree’s
A community of old friends
Who’s lifestyles were anything but ordinary,
Were extraordinary and intriguing and I am a piece of it
I am from orange juice and surfboards
From skateboards and scrapes
I am from the unique characters
And the radicals
From try this! And don’t be shy!
I am from follow your heart
Because dreams come true
And we’ll be right behind you the whole way
I am from Kathy and James’s cloud,
Tamales some days and mashed potatoes others
From the people my grandmother healed in the war,
The knowledge my father passed on
Walls covered in sepia toned memories
Of familiar faces and some unknown with interesting stories
Of how they interwove in to our families history
Warm moments captured
I am from those faces and scenes
A being of concentrated memories, feelings and hopes,
The next generation to pursue
– Janei Lujan Valentine
The right word at the right time
The right word at the right time
can be the right tool to connect the you and I
into the big equation of we.
Those little words like love and hate
can spark forest fires in our hearts and minds
and ignite the forces that govern us.
They can commit the slipshod crime of verbicide
or they can compress and expand our time together.
They can cause us to liquefy flux and flow together
into the very stream of consciousness,
or they can implode and obliterate us into anti-matter.
Better to choose our words carefully,
especially the little ones, with love.
The ones that warm us, connect us, equate us,
expand us and transcend our consciousness into one.
The First of May
By Jim Smith
It’s so good to see you.
You’ve been gone a long, long time.
Marx knows, we tried to carry on
while you were away.
But it was always the same old people.
It became a reunion for tired old lefties.
We mourned you, May
thought Joe McCarthy’s thugs
had run you off for good.
Now you’re back in all your power and glory.
A million people marched in L.A.?
Hundreds of thousands gathering
at the most unlikely cities.
Even Chicago, where it all began.
I’d say you are definitely back.
And who is turning out on May 1st?
It’s workers, nearly every last one.
Just like in 1890 when we celebrated
the fight for the 8 hour work day
right here in the USA.
Back then, lots of us were immigrants
come to seek a better life,
but finding out we had to fight for it.
Some things never change.
Not only that,
we’re still fighting for an 8 hour day!
for Lucy Navarro
She took a step, then one more
Then more and more and more
She looks up and laughs
We all clap our hands
She claps her hands –
a big moment in her history and ours.
It will be forgotten years from now
but right now it is so amazing to us
you can see her brain ticking away
behind those big brown eyes
her cheeks are fat and full and rosy
her mood is funny and laughing most of the time.
When she talks she speaks in pixie:
we don’t understand it and she does understand us
but can’t talk it back yet
so we exist together
a very young member of our race
and the older members, looking at her, wondering,
remembering their babies walking for the first time
feeling joy and wonder once again,
living in that present moment that babies provide.
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