On  Friday July 10,2015 Sandra Bland, a 28 year old female of African descent was arrested in Hempstead [Waller county] Texas during a routine traffic stop.

On July 14, 2015 we went to San Francisco City Hall to attend the Board of Supervisors meeting and vote on the legislation discussing the revisions of the short term rent ordinances and the number of allowable days a short term renter can rent for. “The overall impact on San Francisco is negative, “ said Supervisor David Campos.

At first glance City Hall could have been mistaken for a golden palace but as you get closer it feels like a scary dungeon used to manipulate people. As you enter you receive this eery feeling as cold and thick as ice that you are being watched as you put your objects down and walk through the metal detector.

San Francisco is in a  housing crisis. Thanks to ellis act evictions and people getting gentrified out their homes there are more people on the streets than under a roof.  Evictions have risen to over 54.7% within these last few years and with these short term rental ordinances more people will have to probably find somewhere else to live.

In the middle of this crossfire is a company called Airbnb. Airbnb is an organization that allows people to rent unique places for guests to stay from local hosts in over 190 countries. The problem with this is that it gives less people less homes to live in.

We had the opportunity to talk to an elder who uses Airbnb and he says that they were fortunate to stay in San Francisco because of Airbnb. They have a single family home and rent one bedroom They are both retired and have a fixed income so they rely on Airbnb to help them pay their taxes and make ends meet.

“We are against people using Ellis Acts to push people out,” said the elder’s wife when she was asked about how she feels about the elders being pushed out their homes.

Some people fear that if Airbnb hosts rent full time it will reduce the city's housing supply and change some aspects of residential neighborhoods.”Neighborhoods became ground zero for evictions,” said Campos.

Clients also claim that Airbnb takes down all of the complaints they posted on blogs or other travelling sites so that they can save their company’s reputation.

In San Francisco, almost 5,000 San Francisco homes, apartments, and private or shared rooms were for rent  via Airbnb. The Mission District had the most Airbnb rentals of any neighborhood. Prices are higher in “elegant” neighborhoods like Russian Hill and North Beach and lower in less upscale neighborhoods like the Sunset District and Parkside.

Airbnb is not a good thing and although it provides people with a source of income it also gives them more things to stress about when a guest causes damage to their living space and Airbnb won’t pay for the damages so the money comes out of their pockets.

In my opinion, Airbnb is a poor excuse for a company. They only care about the image of their company rather than the well being of their hosts or guests. They trick their clients and when they start complaining they’ll pretend like they care at first and then lose all contact with them.  

But what matters the most is that innocent people are losing their homes and it is unacceptable.

1.Looting

“I’m gonna loot ‘til the midnight hour
That’s when the gates come tumblin’ down
I’m gonna loot ‘til the midnight hour
When there’s no guardsmen around…”

I kicked off that martial law, off-the-dome
version of ‘Wicked’ Pickett’s dance floor-
filler and Son-Hawk, Ches-Schu, Ron Shaw,
‘Pookie,’ Jimmy and Jerome came in, Right
On Time, as though we’d rehearsed it, all of
our lives…

Our greeting to hoarse engines, huge tires,
of giant army green trucks bristling with
rifles, loaded with blue eyes and itchy trigger
fingers. Rumbling east, it headed down79th Street,
toward Central Avenue—“The Stem,” as Bunchy
Carter used to call it.

Sitting on wooden milk crates, snacking on cup
cakes, chocolate milk and chips, holding court
as we usually did, we weren’t gonna “loot‘til
the midnight hour…” Brothers had jobs, working
There at the Chinese-owned Family Market.

But belly fires set by the Frye Bros. and their
Mother on the 1-1-6 and Avalon wouldn’t let
us sit silently, saying nothing— if we did nothing
but taunt the pale, alien army occupying our streets,
Disturbing our peace!

Really, we felt like Original Guardsman of ‘The City
of Angels—’ Chumash, Tataviam, Tongva, Serrano—
felt about marauding mass murderers, looters, disguised
as
explorers,
Disturbing their peace!

The ‘City of Angels’ first inhabitants didn’t
believe in devils and evil spirits, until Spanish
missionaries and settlers arrived with ‘thug life.’
Natives didn’t connect murder and manhood.
Endurance trials, fasting, teaching legends of
the world’s origin, hallucinogenic rituals, were
ways elders built boyz to
Men.

Medicine people, spiritual people, gathering in
Circles making decisions, saw sacredness in sweet
Air, crystalline water; knew the penalty for taking
too many deer, sheep, fish, mountain goat and rabbit.
They knew nothing of incest, murder, robbery and rape
and had no chiefs named Parker, Davis, Gates, Bratton,
Beck…

There’s no psychic statue of limitation for looting land,
Lives, lineage of Serrano, Tongva, Tataviam, Chumash
Peoples.
‘Thug life’ missionaries of expropriation, assimilation,
relocation, reservation and extermination, wiped out 90%
of First peoples. Show us mass graves, where the bodies
are
buried.

2.Shooting

Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop Thew-thew-thew-thew-
thew-thew-thew Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud
Coming quickly after trigger-happy, young occupiers’ English
Checkpoint, curfew commands…Mexican drivers, habla Espanol;
volley after volley at volley after volley, at volley, anything moving
Bees piercing walls, farting clouds of fine white dust; buzzing
Lethal lead lullabies to my six-year-old sister and mom, trapped
all day, all night, on their dentist’s floor off 103rd St., the Heart of
Watts.

Down on the ground, Mom and Penny saw much, heard all…
The 8-year-old Watts veteran visited aunts, uncles, cousins for
Summer vacation—two years later. Entering their city from
Metro Airport, Uncle James, pre-Marvin, posed the question:
“What’s Goin’ On?” Penny explained: Motown was “Dancing
In The Streets,” like she’d seen L.A. dance, two years earlier….

While Mom and Penny dodged lead fillings from National Guards,
Dad and I bonded, “Come on, boy,” gruff style, grunting, motioning,
We hiked from the front yard of 730 East 81st Street, pink stucco three-
bedroom we called home. Heading northeast for the 70s, we hit 77th &
Central Avenue—White Front—Wal-Mart-Costco cross of the times

festive energy flowing from the crowd like black pepper, garlic, onion
smells telegraphing good cooking. Mostly reminded me of when Ali
Stood his ground whipping Liston in Florida—maybe, even a wee bit like
when enslaved Africans heard about the Emancipation Proclamation!

steel gates and doors shimmied, wrenched, buckled and broke. Families
emerged elated! Carrying couches, stoves, washing machines, pushing
vacuum cleaners— no money down, no money ever— for overpriced
furniture and appliances, Liberation Shopping— based on need—not
‘Black’ Friday frenzies of overnight camper-zombies, lusting for latest
slave labor products
We sampled soulful, savory democracy, sweet hints of collectivity,
watching organized young men slip like specters through steel gates
and doors liberating guns, before exiting, making way for the masses

Peoples joy chiseled smiles in my dad’s heart, unmasking contours I’d
Never noticed. Truly a crazy glue moment bonding us for the rest of our
Lives… I was proud of him, like I was proud of his work:
Like men on 81st, my dad worked. Worked hard. Outside hammering,
Sawing, sanding cabinets; inside small hours, listening to 105.1 FM Jazz,
Magi birthing blueprints, running the drafting table like a
pool shark on Green felt for new jobs; Bel-Air bar, Beverly Hills office,
Hollywood kitchen…
scribbling my lil’ sloppy thoughts in ragged notebooks, I’d sometimes join
Him, nights I couldn’t sleep

“Burn, baby, burn,” came crescendo cries, unifying calls and responses, from
the white van—a van we’d see speeding around several times that night!
Magnificent Montague’s lick, he’d shouted it for years over KGFJ airwaves at
Hot music of The Ice Man, Curtis, comin’ out of Chitown; The Funk Brothers,
Stevie, Smokey out of Motown; Booker T & The MGs, Sam & Dave, The Big O
out of Memphis— a time when Great Black Music justified: “Burn, baby, burn!”

That night “Burn, baby, burn” locked rhythms of resistance with harmonies of
Solidarity…
Heading back to 81st Street, Daddy decided we’d walk west to Avalon.
Gus’s burger/pastrami stand: OK; Virgil & Atkins’ state of the art Tonsorial:
OK; but, a crowd ballooned ‘round the Stein Brothers—Ted and Alan’s—
Liquor store. a navy blue valiant roared up from hell. Four, white- helmeted,
shotgun-toting, devils leaped out barking epithets and jacking rounds into WMD.

corralling bystanders, one snarling thug slammed my schoolmate, Eddie Rose,
AKA ‘Bulldog,’ through T& A’s Ponderosa plate glass window. Candy cane-
Thick shards of glass smashed into ‘Bulldog’s’ head like a guillotine, slicing
the Nile in his neck…

3.”Just the facts, man”

We all know the facts, *34 dead, murdered mostly
by police and National Guard
1032 injured, mostly by police and National Guard
**3438 arrested,
$40 million property damage.
We all know the chain of events—the event of chains 1619—1965:
August 11, 1965 21-year-old Marquette Frye was DUI.
And here’s where beauty’s in the eye of the beholder:
Black angels with wide wings gathered in tens of thousands,
spitting out rot gut of 2nd class citizenship—
Speaking fluent Fanny Lou, in actions, “We are sick and tired of being sick and tired—“
of all the ‘routine’ bullshit harassment traffic stops, dumb-ass degrading, humiliating,
Three Stooges questions, corny B- Movie “you fit the description…” “A car like
yours…” throwaway lines, perverted frisks, planting dope and weapons, gratuitous
violence, stream of conscious ‘testi-lying,’ puttin’ cases on folks…

Not this Wednesday; not this 11th day of August; not this 65th year of the 20th century
This hump day will be the tipping point, critical mass
We control the horizontal, we control the vertical for 46 square miles

Not this Wednesday; not this 11th day of August; not this 65th year of the 20th century
We mount the world stage, sons of Malcolm, Mama Harriet’s daughters—not Slausons,
Businessmen, Gladiators, Farmers, ‘spooks,’ not niggers, or “monkeys in the zoo…”
mushroom clouds of Watts will never fit back in the bottle… Rivers of blood, oceans of tears have
Cleansed scales/washed sleep
from a
Generation of L.A. eyes…if only for 144 hours…

*34 people were killed in the L.A. August 1965 rebellion; 5 were killed in 7 1964 uprisings in, Rochester, Paterson, Jersey City, Elizabeth, Chicago, Philadelphia and NYC.
**3,438 were arrested in L.A. August 1965. There were 1,116 arrests in the 7 rebellions of 1964.

Raymond Nat Turner © 2015 All Rights Reserved

Editor's Note: Jose H. Villarreal is one of several power-FUL PNN Plantation correspondents who contribute to Poor Magazine notes from the inside, a column of planation resistors who needs your help to get justice.

Three Strikes

California's shameful legacy holding it's poor hostage, locked in a fascist visegrip without a conscious.

Dont' touch that bread for your hunger may cost you your head, a caste – like system that would leave confederates in awe and without all the end.

When stealing a burger gets you more time than a murder, the public deceived when the vehicles a pervert.

Using Amerika's pass time to steal oppressed lives,

The people's victory will be tripled runs not fly's.

Modern day slavery – a new plantation,

Lady liberty a waitress, and our bodies the concession.

500 years of their regurgitated scheme,

Amerika's air conditioned mightmare was never a dream.

By Jose H. Villarreal

5-1-12

Editor's Note: Jose has a new book, available at www.prisoncensorship.info/chicanopower. Please check it out

being in the mission is becoming

like a benetton ad or like living

in disneyland—no longer a place

of everyday people knowing the

the hardness of daily life and yet

creating joy and beauty

out of a myriad of struggles

instead of theater, poetry, dance, music and art

expressing the aliveness of many cultures

indoor miniature golf and outdoor bowling

are the new cultural wave and bars with

twelve dollar cocktails are ongoing frat parties

and for those hip enough—everything

is an app away—yes, there are a mix of people

who play in their new discovered land

people who look like they’re from different

parts of the globe—but not those who built

this community—the working class irish and

italians or the mexicans who have lived here for

many generations or the refugees from war torn

countries in central and south america or immigrants

from all over asia or the african americans that came

from the east and south of the usa—yes the mission

always was a rainbow—a richness in culture

but now the mission is in great danger of being

a caricature of itself—while the homogenized

cut outs from late 1980’s ads for the united

colors of benetton who all favor the color green

play a new kind of multicultural fantasy

while stealing other people’s homes and dreams.

1st Nations. Black, Brown & Poor Peoples Demands for Justice and Self-Determination

2) State-wide Moratorium on Luxury Housing Development /Condominium Development

3) State-wide Anti-Speculation Tax be imposed on all new developments- ( example would be San Francisco's Prop G introduced as a state-wide initiative)

4) Institute Rent Control /renters rights protections in "exempt" regions like Salinas

5) Demand the Conviction of Police Officers who Murder the citizens they claim they here to protect

6. Support/Fund/Implement Community Autonomous Elders Councils and Restorative Justice Models to Move off the US myth of Security and Policing

Leroy Moore interviewed Sulekha Ali, who is speaking out after her autistic brother was profiled by police. The transcript is below.

Leroy Moore: First welcome to Krip-Hop Nation & Poor Magazine on Hard Knock Radio KPFA here in Berkeley, CA and tell your brother, Abby, a belated birthday. You are talking from Ottawa, Canada. Tell us about yourself, family and brother and what happen to him on June 3rd.

Sulekha, Ali: Thank you Leroy. It's an absolute delight, and sincerely thanks for that. Yes. I'm located in Ottawa, Ontario.

Sulekha, Ali: Right. Well, I don't even know where to start as it relates to telling you about my family. But what I will say is that my parents immigrated from wartime Somalia back in 1990. They came here with literally nothing in their pockets.  I would say that I'm always, I was so grateful for what they instilled within us the wisdom to understand that there's more purpose to your life than anybody could ever tell you.  And that you have to actually find it for yourself. So my parents have seven children. I'm the youngest. Abdullahi aka Abby is actually the third child. He's autistic and he was diagnosed with autism when he was four years old. And he's severely autistic. So, he's mute. He cannot communicate through-- he communicates through touch and sound. And that's the way that he's able to, to uh, voice his concerns, as much as he can.

But what happened on June 3 is something that I'm still truly baffled about, but I'll speak to things that I can actually speak to, because these police officers won't give us any more information. What they stated is that they received a tip- OK. So on June 3, the police officers, the tactical squad came into my house with force. They had a warrant, because they received a tip stating that they had reason to believe that somebody in this household has a gun. So that is all that they will provide us in reference to any sort of information as they-- there was three people present at home at the time. My brother, Abbey, was one of them and he is 22 years old. My two other brothers were at home at the time as well. All three of them were arrested.

And, one thing that I really want to address is that, I'm not upset about the reason why they came into my house, because they have to do their job. They are notified. They have to-- if a tip comes in, it is their duty. We as citizens have to be protected by them. And I have absolutely no qualms about that whatsoever. What I have an issue with is that if you're going to investigate a household that you claim has a firearm, you should look into that house with information, including all the people that live in that house. So you should have known that somebody with autism could be present in the household at that time. What I'm upset about is the lack of expectation on their part, once on the premise, prior to when they were even in my household, and then even more so, once they had Abdullahi, aka Abby, in custody. So they arrested my brother. My other brother was in the household at the time. He was screaming. He was trying to tell them that Abbey can not understand their commands. They, the police officers, kept telling "Abby, to get on the ground" but he,was not, you know, reciprocating to their demands, because again, he's not understanding them. He's mute. So my brother's yelling at them, saying, "he can't understand. He's autistic!"  Well now, they have my other brother in handcuffs. They yelled at him, they say "why is he not listening, and have to repeat it for the third time."  And finally they moved Abby outside on the stairs with his other brothers. And his brother had to calm Abdullahi down and told him, no, do not come downstairs Abby, it's going to be OK.

 So the officer had Abby in cuffs at this point. Walking him down the stairs. And then they got my other brother in the cop car. And then, so all, two of the boys that are not autistic are in the cop car at this time. Finally the third one out of the house is Abby and he's barefoot!

They put him in the back of the cop car. All three are in there for an hour and a half. My older brother who is essentially the caregiver for him, Abby, during the daytime while we're all at work, is acting for his well-being. Questions starts to come out like, Does he have water, is he OK? I'm worried about him, can you communicate? The cops are not responding to him, they're not allowing him to speak to my brother. Nothing at all, there's no communication. There's no air conditioner. He has on, uh, a wet diaper. Uh, it's already an hour and a half into the investigation, that they call my dad to come pick up Abby from the back of the cop car. All charges were dropped within the same day, because they found nothing. They left the house in complete dismay. They will not provide any further, uh, information. I went to the police station to ask them for a report, they stated that they don't have one ready for me. I asked them why they don't, and they can't speak to why they don't. I even contacted the local newspaper and she, uh, as a journalist said that it was really baffling to her because when she called and inquired about it, the police didn't have any information for her. And she said it was really bizarre. Nothing has been in the media about this. And that's what bothers me because if they did find anything, of course it'd be all over the air. Is it, because they're at fault, nothing is in the media. And nobody wants to listen to the story. There's money missing from my house. We have property missing. They've damaged everything, they're not willing to pay. And I really cannot tell you how much this has fueled me to ensure that people with disabilities do not go through something like this ever again. Ever.

Leroy Moore: Definitely. Definitely. I'm so glad you're telling your story. I'm a person with a disability, and I'm African American so I totally understand, you know, your cause and stuff. I'm a poet, you know, I do poetry and I do activism. And I wrote this poem called Disabled Profile. Because I've been profiled a lot. You know. Like, your brother. You know, tell us, you know, has your brother got support from both communities, from the black community and the disabled community?

Sulekha, Ali: They did. One thing that I will say is that I've reached out to his advocacy worker. I reached out to him on numerous occasions, because I want to get him legal representation. And I still have not heard back from them. I've left them numerous voicemails, I've emailed him. And I have not heard back from him. But I'm hoping to get that as soon as I can. They, the community, in Ottawa here is amazing. Like my brother grew up until the age of 18 at Cooper Valley. And they have been nothing but supportive. They've been sharing his story on Facebook, they've been asking if there's anything that they can do, wanting to volunteer to help clean the house. So to me, those people have been truly the light at the end of the tunnel. Because it's just nice to know that your brother is supported outside of the people within his household.

Leroy Moore: Yeah! As you know in the US we have Black Lives Matter what can Black Lives Matter happen to your brother? What can Black Lives Matter learn from what happened to your brother.

Sulekha, Ali: So one of the things that people can learn is that there needs to be more conversations.  There needs to be transparency that relates to information about cases of this nature. Why has this not been told? Why is this story not out there? Why is it that, if only they had found a firearm, which we have never been criminals. Like, I've used my words to empower people and I was never raised in way my parents spoke to violence.

Violence is not the answer to anything. I've never seen a gun. I barely even know how to pronounce the word gun, to be honest with you. But to me, what I want people to know about this is that, we need to have the tools to understand, what power do these people have? And when I say these people, the cops. Why is it that they are not protecting people with disabilities when it comes to them doing their job? There has to be some news. There has to be a happy medium. I understand you have a job to do. My brother also has a right to be protected by you and against you.

Leroy Moore: Yeah, yeah, definitely. So what do you want activists in Ottawa and here in the Bay Area to do to highlight the injustice toward your brother.

Sulekha, Ali: I think that awareness is key. If we collectively can come together to shed light on this, then maybe they will listen and understand that there's something that they need to do to better themselves. And again, I want to keep saying that I don't want to be seen as though I'm attacking the police force.  Because that's not my mandate. I really want to empower them to empower themselves to do better by us. Because we're living in a world now where I see more bad than good.

And is it because that's all I'm prone to searching online? Perhaps. But it bothers me because there is something we're going through that I have to speak on. And I, I write music. And I try to write music so that I can get people to put themselves in someone else's shoes. Just for a second. Because our story is not the only story that's being told. And I think there is something profound with that very notion itself.

Leroy Moore: Yeah you know. I really believe in the power and healing of culture work. Your are an artist/singer. Will you write a song about what happened to your family and your brother?

Sulekha, Ali: I think sub-consciously I've already written one. And I don't know if it's foreshadowing. For me, the poetry that comes from the songs that I write comes from life experiences. So I can only speak to what I have written. And I can say that a lot of it has to do with atrocities against, like-- I have a song titled, Somalia.

Leroy Moore: Yeah, I love that song.

Sulekha, Ali: Thank you so much. And you know, I've never, let me very briefly, I've never been violated as a woman. I feel, I've been there. But in that song I took on that role, of seeing that at a young age. And because those are the lessons that other people have taught me, um, about going to things like that and how it is important for them to heal.

Through us, using words that are powerful. Like, the word rape is a powerful word. But it's how we use it, it's the context we use it in, right. So we have to use it in a way that allows them to feel empowered. Yes, it is a hurtful word, because rape is not something that anybody wants to raise their kid with. But, use it. If you've been raped, empower yourself to be able to say, I have been a victim of rape, but I will not allow it to define me. So my brother is a disabled individual, but he does not allow it define him. It is not the core of who he is. It's a part of him, but it's not everything that he is. So for me, it's about protecting each other. And I really, I want to protect his legacy.

Leroy Moore: Yeah, and I want to, as Krip-Hop, put your story out there and really tell you, your brother and others that disability is a culture. It has a history, it has a community. And you know, being in the US I would love to keep on supporting him, your brother through Krip-Hop Nation and all the work I do. What does justice look like to you, in your definition right now? 

Sulekha, Ali: Justice, to me, is somebody being able to be themselves freely. So my brother should freely be everything that he is without somebody imposing on that. And that's what they did on June 3. They imposed on his right to be a person who can not communicate. When you forced him outside of the realm of what he's capable of doing. So they attacked him in a way that he did not deserve to. And they lied, really, really. I am like, completely shocked still. But he hasn't been himself since. He really hasn't. He hasn't slept.  I noticed that he's, he's not as affectionate as he used to be. And again, it's still very new, right. And I shouldn't expect him to bounce back quickly. But freedom to me, is - and justice rather, I should say--to me, would be for him to be himself even when somebody tries to take that, or take that away from him.

Leroy Moore: Now tell me what is next for you, and tell us one more time how can we help in the US and around the world.

Sulekha, Ali: Well, I think you’ve already done it just by allowing me to share the story. Um, what's next for me is that I am going to use this as a pillar of really propelling this newfound love that I have for advocacy. And it's not only limited to individuals with disabilities but it's about humanity. We have a right to be protected, and we have agreed to protect one another. But for me, I found a new sense of purpose. Behind every tragedy lies some sort of light. And I think that I found that within-this, as sad as that is. So I'm grateful.

Leroy Moore: Now tell us how people can contact you.

Sulekha, Ali: People can contact me, um, I'm on Facebook. My name is Sulekha Ali on Facebook. You can also contact me by email, connectwithsulekha@gmail.com.

Leroy Moore: Is there a Facebook page for your brother?

Sulekha, Ali: No. I do have an artist page, uh, which I've been posting, you know, things that are related to what he went through on June 3. However, I have made a vow to start a non-profit organization called Do It For Abbey with the premise to create awareness for children and adults with disabilities, and how police have a duty to ensure that they are protecting them from any sort of thing that they have to take on. So ultimately this is still brand new. I'm searching on how-- because this is still very new for me. An idea that relates to a non-profit organization. So I don't really know where to start, but I do know that I have purpose. And I think that's all I need at this point in time. But as soon as I get more information on that, I'd be more than happy to provide that to you.

Leroy Moore: That's great, that's great. You know, Krip-Hop is doing a film documentary on police brutality against people with disabilities, so we would love to add your story to it. You know.

Sulekha Ali: Absolutely, I'd love that. And I really, really can't thank you enough Leroy, for everything that you've done. I just really appreciate it.

Leroy Moore: Well thank you so much, and we'll stay in contact.

Sulekha, Ali: Sounds good, will do, and if you need anything from me at any point in time don't hesitate to reach out. OK?

Leroy Moore: All right.

To Hear the Full radio interview click here

A Communities Victory

By: Heidy

On July 7^th there was a protest celebration in San Francisco at 521 Natoma. The celebration was about the victory of the family not losing their home. “To celebrate victory for the family stability in Natoma.” was their goal for the celebration said, Rudy Corpus from the United Playaz. The fight was important because “keep families in Natoma. The people in this neighborhood stabilized” Explained Rudy Corpus.

The building was sold and had received a new landlord and he issued a three day eviction notice, so the families living in the building decided to get together with the community and take the problem to court. Evan Matteo the landlord with big tree properties tried to kick out the family.

The Filipino community members are supporting 'Just Cause' Eviction Protections 2.0. If it passes it could benefit the tenants in many ways. For example They need to discourage unnecessary evictions and stabilize rent increases.

Tina Shaft from the migrante organizers community was there speaking on the celebration. She made a very important point, “San Francisco needs to recognize that they can't live without the working class people.” The city can't progress with only the rich people.

I also learned about Tenants In Common. It describes a co-ownership where each owner is free to choose who will inherit his/her interest. But in practice, tenancy in common, tenants in common, and TIC, are commonly used to describe narrow sub-categories of the wide TIC world, leaving the uninitiated confused about how the various types of TICs relate to each other

I am very happy for the family and the Filipino community for keeping their people in San Francisco. It really is a communities victory.

April 28, 2015

WHAT DID YOU PUT IN YOUR POCKET?

It occurs everyday in this natural food holler:
Something looks suspicious, somewhat askew.
Doesn't look like a Yuppie, probably don't have a dollar.
Any Black man, any poor brother will do.

Like a solid shadow, the watchdog follows his steps
Through neat, crowded aisles of health:
Past free-range chicken, organic kale, turn left
Tailing a brother, walking by himself.

ARE YOU SHOPPING AT OUR STORE? OR STEALING?

Ready to justify their low-paid position,
Guard refrigerators filled with another's wealth
Past almond milk, rice cream, halls of nutrition,
The watchdog catches a brother----scoping out
the cold kombucha shelf.

UNLESS YOU'RE HERE TO BUY, LEAVE. NOW.

No stories printed in the newspaper,
No photos on TV news, when push came to shove,
But the watchdog feels satisfied, busting a
nothing "caper"-----
On warning flyers, a brother is made an example of.

IF YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN,
9-1-1 WILL BE CALLED. BELIEVE THAT.
_______________________________
W: 4.8.15

The honorable bronze statues at Birmingham, Alabama's Kelly Ingram Park showed a display of courageous youth, some young as 8 years old who refused to be silent and stood up for justice. Despite the vicious attacks by po'lice dogs under the command of klansmen (yes, many po'lice officers were klan members, and still are today!), to the flesh-ripping power of the water hose, even the murders of youths Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley when "Dynamite Bob", along with two other Amerikkkan terrorists bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church did not deter their mission. The children still continued to march on and advocate with a stern promise that they will "turn the jails upside down" if incarcerated by Birmingham's so-called "finest". From the Bay Area, to New York, Baltimore to Texas, the assaults and cold-blooded killings of our children goes on.

Youth attending a pool party in McKinney, Texas were reminded that Black lives do not matter in this racist society when they were assaulted by McKinney PD and threatened with guns. Po'lice were throwing to kids to the ground, pointing guns and threatening jail to those who refused to be silent about the wrongness of the situation and according to a statement made by McKinney PD, part of the statement says that "The initial call came in as a disturbance involving multiple juveniles at the location, who do not live here in the area or have the permission to be there, refusing to leave." Now either that is some good po'lice work, to be able to look at someone and determine where they are from, or another example of "You don't belong in this neighborhood, darkie!"

In the video, there was a young girl who lived in the area whom was with the 15-year old girl who was slammed to the ground and treated as if she was sub-human by a rude kkkop with a fragile ego and not a care for any of the lives that were present. The youngsters were randomly "picked out" by these confused kkkops to get on their faces and when the po'lices' attempt to "restore order" failed, all hell broke loose. The kkkop who had not one, but TWO knees in the 15 year old's girl's back had nothing but vulgar, disrespectful comments and threats of incarceration even towards the child who was crying hysterically from the brutality committed by McKinney's "finest", Eric Casebolt.

The video was also like a display of "slavemassa control" of "If you don't be a good nigra and walk away and ignore this injustice, you will go to jail or die!" And the ego-feed of listening to youth beg and say "sorry, sir" to a unyielding beast has always been one of the many tools to break my people by forced submission and be of acceptance of oppression, no matter how barbaric it may be. With that said as a mother of young black children, and a survivor of an po'lice attack when I was seven months pregnant it is heart wrenching to experience this level of injustice while the agents of the state can beat and murder our children of color with impunity. What is really sickening is that the ill actions by the kkkops are being backed up by some of the neighbors who could care less, just as long as that same thing don't happen to white children because there will be hell to pay! My question is was the "disorder" the gathering of young black youth in a majority white neighborhood that "frightened" the neighbors because of the sub-conscious fear of an uprising whenever Blacks congregate? My question is indeed tied to a historical fact that we were tortured and killed when we had gatherings out of the so-called "slavemassa's" sight or control. Blacks have always been stigmatized as being violent and unruly by our violent and brutal oppressors and that lie has been the platform behind why our children are still being slaughtered (alongside with our elders and adults) without any consequences. What the highly decorated Po'lice Eric Casebolt is seen doing on the video is child abuse and endangerment, plain and simple. The pointing of the guns and the unnecessary force inflicted on the minors was an offense that even blood relatives would have been punished for. Eric Casebolt got the PAL treatment (paid administrative leave)

I remember Malcolm X had spoke on the issue that white men protested and made clear of their right to defend white women and children, and that Black men should have that same right, too. What did that kkkop Eric Casebolt do when he saw the 2 young men step up? He pulled that gun and did whatever he wanted to do to the young female... Ring a bell? History and Herstory repeats itself, it just teaches the same lessons in different ways. Some of the residents thanked the officers for a job well done and showed support for their "keeping us in line". This show of support isn't nothing new under the sun for even the Ku Kluckx Klan had back up from those who believe in upholding non-white supremacy. One would assume that no "gud o'l wite folk" wanted to punish the (2008) officer of the year!

Dear children, do not continue to be distracted by the ways of the world and its falsehoods. Your great legacies are at stake and THAT is worth fighting for, and one day my grandchildren will visit your statues of courage in beautiful parks because you too, like our ancestors were not afraid.

Photo credit: Foot Soldier, by Shino https://www.flickr.com/photos/ms-ito/4634035315

We attended a celebration today on July 7, 2015 in San Francisco at 521 Natoma. They were celebrating their victory of their fight to make sure that the families living there doesn't lose there home. “Our goal is to celebrate victory for the families being stabilized ,” said Rudy Corpus from the United Playaz organization.

The building was sold and had received a new landlord and he issued a three day eviction notice, so the families living in the building decided to get together with the community and take the problem to court. And fourtunately, they won.

When we got there the street was very narrow and was surrounded by very old homes that look as unstable as a table with two legs. Just by one look you can feel the mistreatment in the air.

While there I had the opprtunity to interview Rudy Corpus, and when asked why their fight was important he said, “It was important because we wanted to keep families that's been here in this neighborhood, stabilized.”

Tina Shaft who is a part of an organization called Migrante stated, “ It's all about access.It's all about access for better education for the youth and better jobs for the working class.”

She also states, “Immigrant families deserve a place to live...this city is not prioritizing the rights if women, children, and families.”

I left there with the mentality that the landlords should be held accountable for what's going on and the stress they have caused on people.

I also learned about the Tenants in Common otherwise known as T.I.C which is basically a “joint ownership of property without rights of survivorship in which each owner owns an undivided specific percentage of the property ,” and when the owner dies their estate goes to whoever they left it to in their Last Will and Testament.

I commend the community for their strength, compassion, and undying love for each other. I think that what they are doing will benefit everyone in the future because there is no power stronger than the power of the people and the community.

April 28, 2015

Numeral: 400

As in 400

Parts per million

Carbon dioxide
We release
Into the atmosphere,
Among other gases.
Chemical
Warning signs in the sky
We still ignore.
We can't take
The heat
Rising below the clouds.

But still we burn
Coal and petrol
And still we burn
Carbon dioxide
And still we release
Clouds of exhaust while driving cars
And still there's
No more ozone layer
And still the sun
Feels much hotter than usual
And still arctic
Glaciers melt
And still there's
Floods happening
And still there's
Droughts in some places
And still there's
Crazy weather, on the real
And still there's
Almost no more polar bears
And still there's
Chainsaw reversal of nature
Forests into deserts
And still there's
Oceans turning acidic
And still there's
People who believe this is false
And still we ignore
The everyday changes
The worst kind
In Pachamama
And still we believe
None of this is our fault-----

Mors voluntaria totius terrae*----

Numeral: 400

As in 400

Parts per million

Carbon dioxide
In the atmosphere.

350 parts per million
Would be better. 260----desirable.
____________________________
W: 3.13.15

*LATIN: "Suicide of the entire earth."

This past Memorial Day Holiday[originally started by former slaves in memory of Union troops who fought for them, who they unearthed from a mass grave to give them a proper individual burial each] that fell on the 25th of May 2015 I decided to do some research. I wanted to find which local and national chain businesses offered a discount or freebies for Veterans, which I am a proud one.

My initial reasoning for doing this was due to being caught by surprise on Veterans day last year and not being able to take advantage of all of the freebies offered to veterans on this day.

I started at Polk and Broadway on Friday the evening of the 22^nd, and first inquired in Escape from New York Pizza.

The guy at the counter was friendly enough and asked the shift manager If they did offer discounts or freebies. He was very abrupt and I would even venture to say rude in offering a very harsh "No!"

I continued along next Peet's coffee where they offered a very apolagetic "No."

On to Starbucks to which I received so many free cups of coffee on Veterans day in various locatoins in SF I couldn't sleep that night !

I received a cranky "no" from them as well.

I continued to strike out as my journey brought me to Fisherman's Wharf in many locations that did offer free food on Veterans day such as IHOP, Denny's , Subway and Chili's.

I did receive a free treatment at an Oxygen bar called Vitality. The treatment include scented oxygen ,a warm lavender pillow on my shoulders a brief deep tissue massage and stimulation from an electric muscle stimulation unit. All of that I got not for being a vet but because I happened to be walking by at the time that they offered them for free to drum up business.

My final inquiry after numerous rejections and being relaxed by the aforementioned treatment was McCormick and Scmicks in Ghiradelli square.

The answer was yes, and I received a very enthusiastic yes. They asked if I would like to make reservations to which I said yes and made them for Memorial day at noon.

There were sever tempting items on a special menu in which i chose the buttermilk shrimp. They were very delicious and all of the staff I encountered treated me with the same courtesy and respected that should be afforded to a paying customer.

Get ready troops Veterans day will be here in November and I intend to have a full list composed by then !

“SORROWS AND HOPE”

Hope and determination prosper

amidst the solidarity of concrete and steel

shrouding the humility of people

The warm sun rays

Void within the cold stone cave

Contradicts my inner peace

Reflections protruding from nature

Kindness and rage in perpetual dance

The essence of life's joys and sorrows of death

The end

Jose H. Villarreal

Letters, Words, Poems & Memories from Youth Skolaz at Deecolonize Academy's Revolutionary Youth Media Education Class for Malcolm X

Dear Malcolm X,
By Ana Lapota/PNN/RYME Youth Skola
Thank you for all you've one. You've helped touch hearts, change perspectives, and make people aware. You helped people to believe not only in themselves, but in others as well. If I were you I would refuse to be known with a colonizers name as well. Your speeches are a reminder to people that the toughest thing a person can go through is losing faith in themselves and the idea of justice. There are no limitations for us revolutionaries in life because as long as we believe we will succeed. It's like my little sister always says, “ Don't tell me the sky is the limit when we have footprints on the moon.” Because of you we are stronger, and able to fight with twice as much desire for a better tomorrow.

Dear Malcolm X
By Queenah /PNN RYME Youth Skola
You were a good leader and you know your history. And when you said your first speech it was good cause you talked about slavery and how you did not know your father's last name and your grandfather's last name.

When Malcolm x was on a interview with a white man he was telling the truth about his people that was a slave in his family.

Dear Malcolm X,
Heidy Serrano/PNN/RYME Youth Skola
Thank you for speaking the truth and standing up for people of color. Without you and other amazing peoples work who knows what would be of us. Thanks to you people are standing up and following your teachings. The work you have done its truly incredible and inspiring. People now are doing amazing work in your name. Thank you for believing in the equality for everyone. For standing up for women. Just thank you for everything. Like you have said we shouldn't hate our culture or the color of our skin, we should be thankful for it. You make me proud of who I am.

Dear Malcolm X
By Kimo Umu/PNN/RYME Youth Skola
Thank you for being the people who risk their life. And for us to be proud of our self and not to hate each other . Inspiring people to be what we want to be. Without you (and others) wed be shining shoes for the white man.

Dear Malcolm X
By Tiburcio/PNN/RYME Youth Skola
It was your name that changed you from everyone else you thought about everyone even your self. You used evolution to cause a revolution. You fought the constitution before technical pollution. Malcom X was really cool cause' he made O' connor look like a fool.

Dear Malcom X
By Ty’Ray Taylor/PNN -RYME Youth Skola
Thank you for making this world better as much as u were able to

When I was watching your interview you were representing your culture and what you believed

I learned a lot about you at Deecolonize Academy and Meadows Livingstone school. I think that you were trying to stand up for your rights and the worlds rights- BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY

"The Thrill is gone baby,the thrill is gone...”'-B.B. King

On May 14, 2015 we lost the king of the blues, B.B. King.

Born Riley B. King in Berclair, Mississippi On September 16,1925 to a sharecropper family, he first began his career singing gospel but soon embraced the blues due to not making money singing gospel.

His beloved guitar "Lucille," his steady companion throughout his career, was so named during a venue in a small country town where two men started a fight over a woman named Lucille and knocked over a kerosene lamp in the process which engulfed the club in flames.

B.B. rushed back inside to rescue his guitar while the building was burning and named it Lucille to remind him never to fight over a woman. He created his own style of playing guitar which is used and taught by multitudes of guitarists to this day..

B.B. was the recipient of numerous awards and honors including an honorary doctorate of music from Yale University as well as being inducted in both the Blues and Rock and Roll Halls of fame.

B.B. was truly a poverty scholar and still managed to succeed in pulling himself out of poverty and be a world renowned performer.

Unfortunately he was unable to avoid controversy in his death. Two of his surviving daughters allege that he was poisoned by his manager and personal attendant. They could not be reached for comments.

Several years back I wrote about taking money from my reverse poverty scholarship fund to see B.B. at the Fillmore. During the show B.B. took a brief break from singing and playing speaking to the crowd he said " you know sometimes I just think about giving it all up i'm old and my health is fading" Then he asked " what do you all think I should do?" Of course the crowd begged him not to stop. Then He started singing and playing one of his best known songs " The thrill is gone"

And now that he is gone the thrill is truly gone.

Editor's Note: Timothy Yeargin is one of several power-FUL PNN Plantation correspondents who contribute to Poor Magazine notes from the inside, a column of planation resistors who needs your help to get justice.

Has the time you have done in prison as a father really helped you? Are the people of society addressing our issues here in prison? I do pray that society understands that some of us fathers are really trying to change for our children. Is crime the only way for some of us this day and time? No, but sometimes being poor causes us as fathers, sons, and brothers to make bad choices in life just to survive. But now as a father, I have had time to really look inside myself and know that it wasn't about me. It was also about my family that I left behind. We all as human beings were fed the wrong mind food because of listening to men in the streets of poverty. Yes, some of us listened to them. At that time they were all we had. Most of us were poor and looking for a way out so we could help our families. Some of us, are products of our environment that made us this way. Now let me say this to those who read this because the attitude some of us as fathers have didn't come from how we were raised. Some of us without fathers listened to other homies and looked up to them. Yes, those who did have a father  found out he was never there. When he was, we never got a chance to talk with him. That's why some of us were raised around bad influences without knowing that it was osmething that you and I thought good turn out to be so bad! Now, let me put it another way, so we all can understand. Our brains are computers which take in good and bad things. When we as young teens see our fathers doing wrong or our older men selling drugs and making money, we want to do this too. Not all of us, but some of us fell into this trap in the streets. But now as a father, a brother, and an uncle, I have to make the right choice for the little eyes that are watching you and me.

It started the moment my uncle, the poet, wrote the lines—

A handful of carabao
Dung has more spirit
Than 10,000 white men

I thought my uncle was crazy. He wore a ponytail that flapped and swung in the wind when he meditated or did Tai Chi. He hung out with old Filipino men for hours in Chinese restaurants. One old man had a mouth like a billiard pocket, except for one tooth the shape of an axe blade. Another old man had one finger on each hand—the middle finger. Claimed to be a writer. My uncle would sit and listen and tell stories afterwards. My father got a kick out of my uncle’s lines about the carabao dung. He copied it on a small strip of paper and stuck it in his wallet. He’d stand in the mirror and recite it mimicking John Wayne, Jimmy Cagney, Sidney Poitier. He’d laugh. He rarely laughed. He was a janitor who woke up at 5am and left us with the sound of jingling keys as he slammed the door. He went to a garage sale and picked up a stack of National Geographic Magazines. Sure enough there was an issue that featured carabaos. He looked at the pictures transfixed, each photo teleporting his soul—his spirit—to an ancestral homeland or at least an ancestral state of mind. I picked up the magazine and went to the toilet. I sat looking at the photographs. Outside the window a cat meowed and meowed.
“Will you shut up!” I said.
“Meow”

I flipped the pages, focusing on the mountains in the pictures; mountains laced with green and rain and lushness with all kinds of stuff underneath that the camera didn’t catch. The words “mountain tribes”, “rice terraces”, and “various dialects” slid past my eyes like rocks slipping off a mountain. I turned the page and saw it—2 big horns, 2 eyes that carved itself into anything it looked at and 2 nostrils leaking rainforest snot. It was a carabao. In one picture it was in a rice field, mud all over its body. In another picture it was on a street pulling a cart with a boy atop its back. In yet another picture it was in front of a church, bowing on all fours, asking God for the things that carabaos ask for. I looked at its face, its ugly face. It resembled a guy I went to school with named Andre Watts. Andre had a face that looked like a shoe print. He used to beat me up; he beat everybody up. I kept looking and I began to see other resemblances. Soon the carabao looked just like my father with his large nose and distrustful eyes. I nearly dropped the magazine when I heard a loud knock on the door.
“What are you doing, sleeping in there?”
“No”
“Get outta there. I gotta take a shit!”
“Ok”
“Don’t ok me…get outta there and don’t use all the toilet paper”
I wiped, flushed and put the National Geographic nicely in the rattan book holder next to the toilet for my father to read.

The next day I went to school. I couldn’t concentrate on the math scribbled on the board. I kept thinking about the carabao’s face. I started thinking about carabao shit—first a handful then a roomful. Soon the classroom was filled with carabao shit, knee deep. I imagined the teacher screaming, saying, “what is it?” I saw myself, chest puffed out like a frog answering “it’s spirit Ms. Fargo, we’re knee deep in school spirit”. I got home to find my father in the living room. He was sitting on the floor Indian style with a pair of 1940’s Everlast boxing gloves wrapped around his neck with rips and tears. He kept repeating “a handful of carabao shit has more”…
“Dad” I said, “I thought it was a handful of carabao dung has…”
“Don’t give me your lip”, dad shot back, closing his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Sitting”
“I ain’t sitting. I’m meditating”.
“Can I try?” I asked, squatting on the floor.
“Why don’t you meditate on going to the store and getting me an eskimo pie…oh yeah…and bring me a paper”
Dad gave me a dollar and change. I faithfully delivered his order like the good slave that I was. When I got back, dad was sitting at the dinner table. On it were sheets of paper with designs painted on them.
“Sit down” dad ordered.
He tore open the eskimo pie and bit into it.
“What do you think of this?”
“Think of what?”
“The papers goddamn it! The drawings!”
I looked at the papers. It was hard to make out what they were. They looked like designs that psychologists gave patients to fuck their minds. They looked like watercolor blotches randomly set to parchment—basically abstract explosions of insanity confined to an 8.5×11 space.
“They’re ok, I guess”
Dad flipped through the papers.
“I’m trying to make a logo”
“A logo…for what?”
“For my…I mean…for our new business”.
“What new business?”
Dad gesticulated as if he were a famous artist or photographer who’d gained fame by producing chickenshit art that no one could afford.
“It’s gonna be called the carabao cleaning service…where cleanliness is happiness. You gotta go for what you know sometimes…go for broke. I need to make some real money. Need to take a chance. Now, which one of these drawings do you think should go on our business card?”
I looked at the pictures next to dad’s watercolor paint set. I looked and looked. I thought to myself, I could do better.
“I’m making you vice-president of the company” dad said. “My second in command”.
I laughed silently. I had just been fired from my first job 4 months ago. I was a delivery boy for the San Francisco Examiner. I was fired when I failed to deliver the paper during a holiday. I thought it was a holiday for me too. Vice president of a janitorial company? My immediate answer was no, I wanted no part in manning the phone, swinging the mop or swishing the toilet with the mighty toilet brush. I wanted to play ball. I had no choice. Dad held one of the papers to my face. I looked at the watercolor frenzy on the page.
“What does it look like” dad asked.
I took the paper in my hands. I ran my finger over the watercolor blotch. I spoke.
“It looks like a mound of carabao shit”
The curtain at the window rose in panic like a skirt in a storm. My father’s jaw clenched. He yanked the paper from my hand.
“It’s a carabao!” he said, holding it up like a special edition newspaper. “See the horns?”
He slammed it on the table and began pointing out all the details of his watercolor blotch until I fully comprehended.
“It’s gonna be our logo for our business card!”
I looked at the papers scattered about. I thought about my uncle with the ponytail and Tai Chi moves. I sat down and watched my father meditate on what lie ahead.

© 2009 Tony Robles

Recently while going to Best Buy to make a purchase I walked into the store carrying a small box which shouldn't seem to out of the ordinary in these times of of reuse and recycle unless of course if you're black or brown!

Upon entering the store I was greeted by a store representative and store security.

I walked around the store briefly and then got the item I was shopping for. The line wasn't extremely long but long enough that security would have been able to see me in it if they glanced around and certainly notice me paying for something.

After making my purchase and exiting the store, security asked me if I made any purchases. I indignantly and resentfully answered in the affirmative and exited the store.

After exiting I turned almost immediately back around and asked why he asked if I had made any purchases [ many people enter stores without purchasing for various reasons there is no law against that !] He looked rather nervous I'm sure because he wasn't expecting somebody he just profiled to respond in such a way.

Immediately the greeter stated "It's o.k. I asked him to do it because you came inside with a box."

I'm sure if I had been a clean cut well dressed white man he would have just assumed that I was doing exactly as recycling and reusing.

I left quite angrily as a loyal customer should not have to.

I took an online survey as requested on the receipt and mentioned the incident but so far have got no response. Upon subsequent visits to the store I have seen the same greeter peering at me nervously but have not received an apology from him or his employers.

The most painful thing about such incidents is it is almost always people of color in security positions who profile poor and or people of color.