Story Archives 2011

Feb 18th @ Modern Times Bookstore Krip-Hop Nation Presents: Black Disabled Artists, Authors, Activists & Friends

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
Leroy
Original Body

 

Press Release Berkeley, CA. SF Bay View Newspaper & Poor Magazine in conjunction with Krip-Hop Nation Presents: Black Disabled Artists, Authors, Activists & Friends for Black History Month 2011. San Francisco, CA February/2011 Krip-Hop Nation celebrates Black Disabled Artists/Authors/Activists & Friends for a weekend (February 18-20) of readings, music, discussions and panels all highlighting the artistic contributions of Black disabled artists/authors/activists and those who support them of yesterday and today focusing on music and literary.

On February 18th at Modern Times Bookstore 7pm Krip-Hop Nation will have an Author panel of new books by Black disabled writers & friends including - Toni Hickman of TX Adarro Minton of New York, Allen Jones of San Francisco and friends of Krip-Hop Nation, DC Curtis & Bones Kendall of LA. All of the above authors have recently published their books from poetry, fiction, to non-fiction.

Hip-Hop artist, Toni Hickman publish her own book, Chemical Suicide, Death by Association , professor, poet/fiction writer, Adarro Minton of New York no b.s. book, Gay, Black, Crippled will leave your mouth wide open; author Allen Jones of CASE GAME, is philosophical, bringing people into the 21st century in the areas of race, sexuality and ability with true stories on how he believes God has assisted him in challenging out dated thinking. Friends of Krip-Hop Nation DC Curtis & Bones Kendal of LA has wrote a dream of all Krip-Hop youth and that is to be on stage, on MTV with a record deal but in their fiction book, Truth & Pain starring the Gangsters & Retards in... The Mystique-cal Person-a of MC Cripple Crip that follows a group of disabled youth has a twist that will make you laugh, think, cry and sing. This group of authors coming from Texas, New York, LA and San Francisco will krip your mind and limp your stride as they spread their words and love.

Where: Modern Times Bookstore 888 Valencia St. San Francisco

When February 18th

Time: 7pm but get there early and buy books and look around

Sponsors: Modern Times Bookstore, Krip-Hop Nation, San Francisco Bay View Newspaper, Poor Magazine & I.D.E.A.L. Magazine

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Ted Williams

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
PNNscholar1
Original Body

Ted Williams

A voice, sometimes it’s a prayer without words, sometimes a whisper. Other times its words written on the walls of your mind without the luxury of pen and paper—words that sometimes bleed onto the skin of a piece of cardboard. I saw you on youtube, holding a cardboard sign that read: I have a God given gift of voice. I’m an ex-radio announcer who has fallen on hard times. Please! Any help will be greatly appreciated. You spoke in a radio announcer’s voice, you smiled. The gift was still there, still flowing in your veins—the fire still there. The video, shot by a local newspaper reporter, has been seen by millions of people in this country and around the world. Your voice is beautiful. You have been called the homeless man with the golden voice. Your face is being shown all over. Your voice is written in the brown black skin of your face.

I too worked in corporate/commercial radio. You had the voice I always wanted to have. You spoke about having worked as a morning drive announcer. That was my dream. I wanted that rich voice, a voice that flowed like water over rocks. I studied broadcasting in school, practicing my enunciation and vocal delivery for hours in a room the size of a walk-in closet. But when I finally got to the microphone, I would stumble over my words with a bowlegged tongue. I wanted so badly to have that announcer’s voice--that polish with all its resonance. But when I listened to the playback, it wasn’t there. I was no Ted Williams. I was a guy with a bowlegged tongue and a voice that was given to him by the creator. I worked as an announcer in small towns like Stockton, Napa and Vallejo, California—stumbling my way through the overnight shift and the farm report. You worked morning drive at a station in Columbus, Ohio before drugs and alcohol became "a part of your life". That’s what you told that reporter on youtube. But you didn’t have to. It was written in your face.

You once spoke to thousands on their way to work, in their cars and in the everyday sequence of events known as life by way of that miracle called radio. They never saw your face. When you left the microphone to battle addiction on the streets, how many of those people you spoke to in their cars passed you by? If they only knew it was you. They didn’t know you…didn’t know your face. What was it that was written in the skin of your memory? What of your mother and children? How long had it been since you saw them? Things happen to deep in the past, words are said that are broadcast over and over in the heart and mind. You disappeared from the microphone and in the white noise silence of your absence, your calloused hands and feet walked the streets of cities abandoned by corporate machines whose voices perpetuate lies about communities of color, migrant communities and communities in struggle. You were out there surviving and thinking of your mother. The shame you carried could not be covered by a golden voice. It is in your face.

Your face is being shown on national TV, in newspapers and on blogs across the country. The homeless man with the golden voice is getting job offers from radio stations—including an offer to do voice work for the Cleveland Cavaliers and NFL films. You recently appeared on the Today Show. You had a haircut and new clothes. Your story was seen by millions. You awed the hosts with your vocal prowess. One of the hosts asked you to speak in deep tones. "How low can you go?" she asked. Then you were reunited with your mother after 20 years. She said she had prayed that you would find God and turn your life around. There you were, together. Then came the commercial break.

You’ve been given a place to live and your voice was recently heard on a commercial for Kraft Macaroni and cheese during the Kraft Fight Hunger Bowl game. So much attention overnight but not really overnight; the cold nights, the moments when the only voice you heard was in the deep moans in your belly—your mother, your children--their voices. What happens when the commercials end, when the cameras are off—when the only thing you hear is your voice—your true voice, the one that is written in your face?

There are people that will surely ask why a man whose been living on the streets has 9 children. I think of the words of Boriqua poet Piri Thomas who wrote:

Our children are beauty with a right to be born/ born anew at each A.M./ like a child out of twilight flying towards sunlight/ born anew at each A.M./ At each A.M./ punto

You have survived with your voice intact, trying to keep your mind, heart and soul together. You know the fleeting nature of corporate media. Just as soon as you’re in the door, you could be tossed out without a day’s notice. Your years of media and poverty scholarship give you deep knowledge of this.

Your voice, your gift is now being heard by millions of people and the opportunities are presenting themselves. You credit God for this. You appear to have a good spirit and humble soul. There are millions whose voices are not heard—migrant peoples and homeless/landless elders and children whose lands and cultures are stripped by corporations who perpetuate lies about poor people in struggle.

POOR Magazine produces revolutionary media based on our indigenous newsmaking circle—creating and providing access to communities and people whose voices are intentionally silenced by corporate media.

We honor your struggle and your voice gives strength to our struggle of making our voices heard. We want you to know that there is a place for you—your poverty and media scholarship—at POOR Magazine in our indigenous media circle as a teacher/mentor and announcer with POOR News Network revolutionary radio (www.poormagazine.org)--where all voices are heard and honored. We hear your voice here in San Francisco rising up like fire. Punto.

 

 

© 2011

 

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If I Were A Bell: A Tribute to Teena Marie

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
PNNscholar1
Original Body

Lady T
By Tony Robles

I’m for the real…and for you I’m true blue
--Lover Girl by Teena Marie

I was saddened to learn of the death of soul singer Teena Marie at age 54 on December 26, 2010. It almost seems odd using the term soul singer. In a world that seems to be losing its soul, with the soulless voices and faces you encounter on busses and in the media, the term seems almost archaic.

I want soul; I crave soul, taste soul on my tongue--lingering in the corners of my mind that are hidden in shadows. When I thought that soul had disappeared, I’d hear the voice of Teena Marie on the radio or on my record player or on, dare I say it, my cassette player, and at that moment I knew that soul was alive, and so was I..

Some of the best moments in my life were spent in beat up old cars. I would buy them for a couple hundred dollars and take out insurance—which amounted to jumper cables and air freshener—and if I had a few extra dollars left, I’d get a couple of fuzzy dice to hang on the rear view. I would drive far away from my job, far away from people, far away from other cars, far away from myself. I’d come to the edge of a lake or a cliff or some place with a nice view.

I would put my feet up on the dash and turn on the black radio station. That was the only kind of radio that spoke to me, black voices with black feeling and black anger and black love and the voices I heard often said what I wanted to say but couldn’t. Then the voice would say something like…here’s the latest from lady T…Teena Marie…on the Boss of the Bay…KDIA

And Teena Marie’s voice would come over the speakers of my cheap ass, broke down, Pontiac Astre. Teena Marie, whitegirl with the black heart and the black voice and the black tongue who sang about black love and black heartache. Her voice grabbed me and shook me and told me that my soul was soul too…black brown, black Pilipino soul—adobo, cornbread, gumbo and chow mein and bbq ribs all mixed together on a white paper plate. Teena Marie--with a heart that was black--sometimes blacker than black-- because it was mixed with blue.

I’d sit in my broke down car and Teena Marie would suddenly appear in the passenger seat. I’d look around and I wasn’t in no Pontiac Astre, no Toyota Corolla, no Yugo but in a coffee colored Cadillac Brougham with seats that were very close to leather. And I’d look over at Teena in her silk dress, skin the color of coffee and cream, and she’d look at me and say, “You gotta get your shit together, sugar”.

"I’m talkin’ square biz to you baby"

I’d start that car up again and go back to my house, job and life. But hearing Teena Marie singing was an event, a space in time that I could call my own and connect with what was real, what was going on inside of myself—allowing me a moment to be honest with where I was at in my life. Teena was always able to bring me to closer to that place.

Teena, you are on another part of your spirit journey. You experienced many highs and lows here in this physical realm that we find ourselves in. You brought joy to many people. When I craved soul, needed soul, you were always there, right on time. I still hear your voice, am still moved by the spirit and feeling and essence of soul that was you, that is you. Thank you Teena for saying what was in my heart and mind when I didn’t have the words. As you once sang, “If I were a bell…baby I would ring each day for you”.

© 2011

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Group Home Living (poem)

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
Leroy
Original Body

(Author's note: Yes KRS One used to live in a group home and in this song he mention it but he put himself there.  Its a different story when your parents put u there and you're Black, poor & disabled.)

Drive up

Like a drive thru

Car pack from door to door

 

It’s not college

It’s not Summer camp

No returning home

 

Fake presence

For your parents

Click clock door slam & lock

 

Welcome to group home living

Everything on a tight schedule

Some workers r repeated criminals

 

Paid below minimum wage

Straps & slaps to beat out clients’ rage

T.V. blasting all day

 

The smell of bleach & ammonia

Turns the walls yellow

Lungs full of flem

 

No he is not KRS One who once lived in a group home

Dreaming of being a rap star

If KRS one can do it then I ca ca ca

 

Time for your medicine

Determination gets foggy

Like the San Francisco’s sky

 

Traveling in packs

Can’t be alone for a minute

Second by second is recorded for your file

 

Evaluation day is here

Parents out of the blue appears

You  are in fear

 

Surrounded by adults

Who put you in here

Cards are stack nobody has your back

 

Years slip by

Passing down the tricks of the trade

No transitional stage

 

Kicked out because of your age

All those years and all of that money

One suitcase and no family

 

He is no Ted Williams

Story won’t be on youtube or radio

His hard times started at birth

 

Parents locked him up

Group home kicked him out

Police reported him for force treatment

 

No Hollywood ending

Got to put this in writing

Part 1 of group home living

 

By Leroy Moore

1/16/11

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Don’t Let Eviction Kill More Elders

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
Tiny
Original Body

The North Beach Eviction of low-income elders must be stopped

“No justice, No peace….” Their voices trembled slightly as they chanted. “Eviction is Death,” They stood together, chiseled hands, over-worked arms, weary legs, shoulders tired from holding up thousands of skies. They stood together,  tailors, house-cleaners, plumbers, waiters, dishwashers, grandmothers, uncles, handymen, poets, artists, aunties, cooks, laundry workers, sanitation workers, child-care workers, craft-workers, refusing to accept the eviction of four elders by Peter Iskander, a landlord who had plans to replace their homes for a condominium, a profit margin, a floor-plan.

On Wednesday, December 29, four low-income elders ranging in age from 65 to 90 who have been tenants in the same building in North Beach for decades stood outside their homes with scores of other elders in resistance from Chinese Progressive Association and the Tenants Union to protest the latest of many Ellis Act evictions across The City. Their homes are located in North Beach at 525-531 Greenwich, a 4 unit building bought by a real estate speculation company called Master Builders Real Estate. The company has been buying up apartment buildings in North Beach, the Marina and the Mission and then evicting the tenants and selling the units as Tenants In Common(TIC) s—for huge profits.

Sandi Bishop, one of the elder tenants said: “I can't find a place to live because I don't have money and I am low income which means up to 4 years to have your name on a list for senior housing. I can't leave my apt. where do I go?” From Carlo, who is over 70, disabled and has lived in his apartment for 40 years, to Sandi who is 70 and has fought cancer for the last year, the elder long-time tenants have nowhere else to go and no health, money or physical recourses to go with.

POOR Magazine came to re-port and sup-port on this gentrification genocide, as we have been doing since our inception, creating survival media, do or die media, so elders won’t die media. What we didn’t expect to find is a direct connection to the plight of these elders in North Beach. POOR’s revolutionary classrooms located in the historic Redstone building are currently under threat of displacement because of the proposed development of two 7 story condominiums on our street by a related developer.

 “We remember you Lola McKay,” as the elders stood on the street outside their at-risk homes, Long-time economic justice organizer and advocate with Housing Rights Committee, Tommi Avicoli Mecca,  sang a song in honor of Lola Mckay, elder tenant of an Ellis Act eviction who was murdered by the genocide of gentrification in this same City over ten years ago. The Ellis actis a state law which says that landlords have the unconditional right to evict tenants to "go out of business." For an Ellis eviction, the landlord must remove all of the units in the building from the rental market,

Don’t let eviction kill more elders. Resist gentrification and displacement by joining the resistance at 525 Greenwich on January 19, 2011 @ 6pm. Peter Iskander will be at the property, Tell the developer what you think of this plan. For more information or to get involved in the struggle go on-line to www.sftu.org

 

 

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CALIFORNIA CHILD CARE CHA-CHA-CHA 2010-11: Stage 3 Child Care Cuts, Fights, The Future

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
Redbeardedguy
Original Body

"We child care advocates are celebrating, but some parents may not know what is happening, they fell through the cracks in November and they've fallen through them again.  Some of them gave up after hearing their childcare ended in November or December.  We cannot find some of these parents."
--Maria Luz Torre, Organizer for Parent Voices

1.  A little herstory

Welfare in Amerikkka is a big pain in the you-know-what.  It's the same thing in California.  Child Care is a small part of that big pain, but, for poor and just-barely-making-it single and married parents with children--it's as big a pain as the Big W.  Don’t get me wrong, child care was probably the best thing that happened after welfare reform because legislators realized as an afterthought ,duh, that 70% of the participants are young children.  Parents were required to work but they forgot about the children! Grudgingly, they added child care but parent advocates almost have to fight for it every budget cycle.. However, President Clinton made Welfare in America tougher, shortening the time poor parents could be on it to five years.  Period. Even more reason why child care support was important beyond the five years.

Child Care is, at the Federal level, a two headed beast.  Stage 1 and 2 Childcare, funded through a.k.a. TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families--a 1996 Clinton creation), is available in most states; Stage 1 is for unemployed parents receiving cash assistance, Stage 2 is for parents who have gotten jobs, a training program, or are going to school/college.  California is the only state that has Stage 3 child care.  And the last 3 Governors have been trying to abolish it – the crown jewel of a program that tries to move parents from welfare to work because this is the only thing that realistically helps children to learn while their parents earn.

Getting into Stage 3 is as much a Catch-22 as what happens if you still need help after your generic and very personal five years have run out on getting welfare assistance. You can only get on Stage 3 if you have used Stage 2 child care. You can't sign up for Stage Three until the very last of the 24 months of Stage 2. If you sign up just a little bit too late, too bad, you don't get it (and this often happens if a family has not been in an approved work-activity and thus skipped their Stage 2).

2.  Out With The Governator, In With Jerry The Gentrifier of Oakland, CA

The Reign of the Governator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, is over, but the memories of his constant failed and successful attempts to cut this and that desperately needed benefit for poor parents, and for their children, will last a long time. 

Stage three child care served 81,000 children (in 60,000 families) in California until the fall of 2010.  Governator Schwarzenegger vetoed that part of the state budget in October.  Twelve hundred and nine children in San Francisco lost Stage Three child care before Parent Voices and other organizations began fighting to get cuts restored.

California Legislature Assembly Speaker John A. Perez also got involved, pledging some of the 15% cut in the Assembly's budget ($6 million) as a bridge fund.  He also asked the First Five Commissions (FFC) all over CA for help until Stage 3 child care could be restored.  The Legislature (slowly, so very slowly...) passed a budget, but couldn't muster enough votes to overcome the governor's veto of child care funds.

November 2010 was full of more activity from activists, Speaker Perez, an Alameda County District Judge (who extended Stage 3 coverage until December 31st for Bay Area families), and the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.  The court order was an end-run around Schwarzenegger.  It's nice to have something like that available, not so nice to actually have to fight to get a judge to enforce it.

Perez announced $40 million more in bridge funds. San Francisco's Proposition 10, a.k.a. prop 28, which funds the local First Five Commission's childcare program for children ages 0-5, got some love, a supportive resolution, from the Board of Supervisors (BOS).  Supervisor Eric Mar is on San Francisco's FFC.

Families were sent notices that their child care would end in November, more notices went out about an end to coverage New Year's Eve.

Things began to look up a little in December, 2010, but, as Maria Luz Torre of Parent Voices said, some parents panicked and disappeared before child care activists could contact them about what else was going on.  One hundred families, about 10% of the total concerned in Alameda County (across the Bay from San Francisco), vanished.  

Speaker Perez introduced Assembly Bill 1 (AB 1) to reverse the veto and restore Stage Three Child Care in early December.  Jerry Brown officially became Governor of California January 3rd, 2011; January 10th he included Stage Three Child Care funding in his 2011-2012 state budget proposal.  January 14th, Speaker Perez announced that AB 1 was effective retroactive to January 1st, 2011, good news for poor families that need it.

Good news, bad news.  The bad news is that Jerry Brown wants to make it harder for parents to get into the Stage Three Child Care program.  His budget reduces eligibility from 75% of the State Median Income to 60%, which means that a familiy of three must gross no more than $3000 a month. 

There's a powerful, and funny video on YouTube, of a candidate for political office running on the "The Rent Is Too Damned High" political party ticket.  Well, yup, the rent IS too damned high, and other necessities of life (like food) are more expensive. 

What's a family to do if they make too much money to get Stage Three Child Care services, but they're still barely making ends meet because the Bay Area is one of the most expensive places to live in Amerikkka?

Jerry Brown isn't Governor Moonbeam any more, he became Jerry the Gentrifier of Oakland (he loved it when the U.S. Supreme Court said it was okay to condemn private property if a developer wanted it for a mega-bucks project, even if that project had nothing to do with "improving" a city or town). California stopped being the Moonbeam state years ago too.

Parent Voices is across the street from a school on Church Street in San Francisco.  I spent a bit of a Saturday with organizer Maria Luz Torre and my POOR Magazine family member Jewnbug (the poormagazine Parent Voices skolah) a while back for an outdoor sidewalk sail to raise money for the organization. 

The comments from Maria at the beginning of this article are not the last word.  Maria also repeated how important it is for poor parents to "stay connected to Parent Voices, POOR Magazine, or other groups in the fight--if they don't they miss out" on what they deserve.  It isn't easy, but fighting back gets results.  

 

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I Round Dance

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
mari
Original Body

 

I dance to the beat of the drummers.

I hear the heartbeat, I follow stepping to the beat side to side.

I hold hands with old friends, forever friends, lost friends, found friends, and new friends.

I round dance.

I round dance, the sun has set, I dance deep in to the start lit night.

I round dance.

I listen to the singers voices, the ancient voices and new.

I hear the heartbeat of the singers hand drums.

I round dance.

Last song, last dance, last chance to hold a hand, last chance to sing a song, last chance to dance.

I round dance.

The stars are bright we have ended for the night. Time to rest round dancer.

Give the hugs of love and the handshakes of respect, go home happy and thankful for the great round dance.

Come Again.

Go now and shine as bright as the stars on this winter night.

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Obama: Return the Uncompahgre lands to the Ute Indian Tribe

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
mari
Original Body

 

Over one hundred years has passed from the time that ten infantry and cavalry companies with 200 rounds of ammunition each, and three days of cooked rations, under the command of Mackenzie, were standing ready. To the Uncompahgre Nation he said “If you have not moved by nine o’clock tomorrow morning I will be at your camp and make you move”

     Captain James Parker reports, “The next morning, shortly after sunrise, we saw a thrilling and pitiful sight, the whole Ute nation on horseback and on foot streaming by. As they passed our camps their gait broke into a run. Sheep were abandoned, blankets and personal possessions strewn along the road, woman and children were loudly wailing. And so we marched behind the Indians, pushing them out, he (Mackenzie) sent word to all the surrounding whites, who hurried after us taking up the land...” “As we pushed the Indians onward we permitted the whites to follow and in three days the rich lands of the Uncompahgre were all occupied...”

     Moved by force onto the Uncompahgre Reservation a vast waste land of 2.9 million acres in Eastern Utah, driven out at the point of a rifle, by an Extermination Order issued by Governor Pitkin “ ...It is impossible for the Indians and whites to live in peace… unless removed by the government they must necessarily be exterminated...”

      Leave Colorado or die was life for Utes in 1881. Moved in September onto the Uncompahgre Reservation a severe winter followed, killing almost half of the Uncompahgre, The other half bitterly set out to defend this place. Never forgetting the lies told to Ouray, the promises of the Brunot Agreement broken, forgotten, all of the lies, and then the theft of all their land, finally exiled into the desert of Utah.

      They determined to defend it against the encroachment that began almost immediately, when mining interests, cattle and sheep owners, began a process of trying to take what the Government had given to the Utes, by Executive Order signed into law by Chester A. Arthur on 4th of March 1882.                                         

    This began a series of events that all American citizens should hang their head in disgust with. The theft, deceit, fraud, dishonest reports and testimony, and cold blooded murder are all a part of a story whose time has come and is well worth telling and listening to. There is truth and finally it is becoming known to us all.

      So many of the gilsonite and oil deals were done under the shroud of secrecy. The systematic removal of the majority of Uncompahgre to the Uintah Reservation occurred.  Government sanctioned theft, taking of millions of tons of minerals, billions of barrels of oil and scars left that crisscross the land. The State of Utah is reaping the financial benefits, without any regard for the Utes.  This is a fragile land with a delicate balance of water, heat and drought, deep snows, and torrential rains.

     Now, one hundred years later we carry the scars of our families torn apart by the trails of disaster left in the wake of this wanton destruction and near annihilation of our people. We have weathered the long winters of our defeat. We have suffered, we have survived. Now it is time to find the truth and regain what has been lost, what has been stolen that is still ours.

     We see the past in the light of day, looking at all of the incidents, uncovering all of the lies and deceit that has not only lain on the land but on our hearts and minds as well.

      We take these steps, hesitant at first and stronger with every step to regain not only the control of the lands and the right to use that land in a way that we see fit, but also to remember ourselves one hundred years ago We look to the future and see ourselves able to hold our own and take care of our land. We are the greatest Environmentalists the ones that know that within the folds of earth on the Uncompahgre Reservation lay not just oil and gas and the means to secure to us our economic future, but also our loved ones.

     We come together as a people with wounds to heal and strength to gather to bind us up and build a nation.

      We come together carrying the wounds that are handed down by those that lost their lives unnecessarily.

       We come together to ask the one man that can make a difference, the one man that can return our land to us, the one man that can listen to our request. We ask him simply to use all of his power, and all of his great mind and will, to rid our land of the lies that bind it from us, to make things right to end the theft and to return the land to us for our use and control. That man is President Obama. We ask that he return a land that is scared, as are we. To return our land that has been taken by theft and deception and lies and then to lie no more.

     We are not asking for a second chance or a hand out we are asking for what is ours by birthright, the land that is in our blood that is rightfully ours.

     All of us can sign this petition, every one, whether we live here or not.

 

To sign the online petition go to:

http://www.petitiononline.com/UNO12345/petition.html

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I'm The First, Please!

09/24/2021 - 09:12 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
Leroy
Original Body

Now I understand
Don’t want to crush your dreams
But its time to wake up

The media blows your head up
Stars in the sky you looking up
Back down now sit down & shut up

You are not the first
And won’t be the last
Don’t know your history that’s sad

The gimmick you pimp
Goes deeper then what you think
Open up a book & read the Black ink

I’m the first, please
You better believe
Many came before you

Don’t mean to pop your balloon
Truth will come out soon
Looking & sounding like a fool

Your lyrics make me sick
Lily-pop sucking the flavor out of Hip-Hop
Don’t want to be down with Krip-Hop

It’s ok because you suck
Cussing every other word
Quack quack quack u Mc Duck

Flip-Flopping out of water
We don’t attack our own
Trying to make you better

So we can work together
But you get up
To continue to climb that ladder

News stories screams
“The First Disabled Rapper!”
Both don’t want to go deeper

Spotlight on one
While many are shun
Used as the flavor of the month

Living in the closet
Dirty laundry is pilling up
Your identity wants to come out
Fighting with yourself
Chains are off
But your brain is still locked up

Falling from up above
People moving out of the way
So you can face your stuff

You have no choice
To see you are one of many
Will u comprehend that u stand on history

Providing steps to today
Realizing u has a duty
To your community

Now u r older
From youth to elder
Want to share with your son & daughter

Turned to conscious Hip-Hop from gangster
Doors that were open are now shut
Must feed your family now you are stuck

Pushing back on what u helped create
But is it too late is this the end
Can Hip-Hop be born again

By Leroy Moore
1/23/11

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