Seeing My Family

I'm seeing my family in some strange places these days.
I saw my sisters and brothers on the internet, in pictures and videos,
in cages, overcrowded,
in buildings where men, also my brothers,
went slowly insane as they cut the throats of their brothers and sisters.
They call the buildings Factory Farms. Abattoirs. Slaughterhouses.

I Watched on the history channel as my great aunts and uncles,
grandmothers and fathers were broken, tortured, gassed,
shot, burned because the distant cousin no one likes to talk about
said that they weren't good enough.
We remember this as the Holocaust.
We call that cousin Hitler.

My family history is the history of the world.
My heart is the picture of turmoil as everyday it seems
my brothers and sisters kill and enslave one another
when the war ends it's loss regardless of side.

I'm seeing my family in some strange places these days,
and some days I can't breath for grieving;
can't cry for smiling,
the extremes of light and darkness in my family astound me.

My brothers and sisters fly and nurture babies and embrace the world.
They picket and reach out with messages of compassion.
They hold so tight to life. They fight so hard to live.
and I'm seeing them.
Every day, Everywhere,
I'm seeing my family.

I wrote this a few days ago, so I hope you either like it or best it with an entry of your own.

Only One

(this is a little monotonous at first but read slowly and hang with me, because there is a point, i just took the scenic route getting there)

Lay me down society,
Pacify me, Pacify me, Pacify me,
'cause I be only one, only one, only one girl,
only one sister, only one,one alone,
not sitting on a throne or in an oval office,
so I've no might to stop this evil
spreading through the mall,
spreading through them all,
spreading through my brain,
spreading through my veins,
on the trains, but I've no power to stop it,
I am only one, only one,
I've no power to dream, to be, I'm only one, only one,
only waiting for society to pacify me.

Do just what you do so well in this hand-basket bound for Hell,
Because if only one is only one then there will never be two,
and two plus a few more is a revolution worth fighting for,
but I am only one, only one, only one.

And that's been making me feel bad you see,
so please I'm on my knees,
just Pacify me, lull me to sleep so I won't see when the streets burn,
so I won't see when the tables turn,
so I won't call the earth an urn when those first ashes fill my lungs,
when ashes fill my lungs, see what inactivity has done,
cause I was only one, only one, only one.

(hope you liked it, tell me what you think, and email me if you'd like to submit (poet.writer@yahoo.com)

Terrify Me

Terrify Me,
Make me fear the consequences of my actions,
There's no justice here.
As I stand and work for the world I want to see,
with your laws and calls for silence,
Terrify Me.

Accuse my fellows of terrorism,
Try to rule us by fear,
Deny our rights when used against you,
Jail us till the end draws near,
And when I don't Give a damn about what you do
or who you be,
well, fuck it, just try harder to terrify me.

And as you claim to feel me coming
by the prickling of your thumbs,
I warn you to get ready, something fearless this way comes,
you can tell the world my secrets,
cast aspersions on my name,
take my money and my life,
the fight continues just the same.

So if your looking for an enemy who won't admit defeat,
go ahead AETA laws,
Try and terrify me.

(I wrote this one last year, and once again its part of a series, I'm posting another from that series in a few minutes. and i have it on good authority a couple of people are planning on submitting work to the blog, i'll post it as i receive it.)

Silencing The Artist - 2053

Her hands tremble as she runs them across the canvas,
Red streaks like blood,
Something from nothing,
Cool wet color staining hands,
Depicting chaos to preserve order, sanity,
The illusion of control.

They came to her domain today,
the witch hunting, terror seeking, expression banning - the Silence laws
came too close green now on her fingers moving on the canvas- it's useless,
the Speakers are disappearing, the advocates are enriching the soil as forget-me-nots grow above mass graves.
They are banning her art, her life, they are killing her like they did her child.

Examples must be made, she imagined they said over coffee,
Lets make it easy, let's have a contest.

Her baby, her 8 year old baby with the hands that never stayed clean
with the smudge of yellow acrylic paint always on her right cheek
won the country wide art contest and they shot her baby
for creating a painting that made people hope, talk, dream, and the war against expression raged on

Blue streaks on a canvas her mind is gone,
It's a blank canvas. it's a new sheet in an eight year-old's sketch pad.
her body clings to paint and surface in the absence of mental direction.
it tries to make something from nothing;
order from chaos.

Sanity is gone with the hands stained with marker and paint.
She saw her baby fall dead with a hole between the eyes as a
fear ridden government painted terrorists on the air with her blood,
and the approaching Silence draws nearer.


so there you have it the second in the Silence series, hope you like it, or better yet, i hope you write something that outshines it and let me know so I can post it. thanks to those who've shown interest :)

I Am Still Alive.

Sorry about my long absence. I've been holding out for some other activists to submit. I'll be back with another of the Silence poems sometime this afternoon, sort of a prequel to the first, and i plan to do at least one poem for each of the Silence movements major victories, ( visual art, music, and poetry). I also have a few poems that I wrote a while back that I can put up, but if this blog is going to be effective and fulfill the purpose I planned for it, then I'll need your help and your submissions.Write about anything and everything related to activism of all varieties. Show other activist how you think and what you have to say to them.The real Silence is on its way if we don't learn to speak up and speak out, and understand that all off our efforts, from animal rights direct action to anti-war protests are linked, and are expressions of our desire to see justice be done.

2056 or The Future without Change

There was silence in the streets today,
In all of them,
In Atlanta,
In Dallas,
In Houston,
In Philadelphia,
In LA,
In New York,
There was silence in all those streets in those cities,
And in all others,
Silence in every city in the United States.

The people walk softly and drive cars that make no noise.
The tapping of feet on sidewalks could be Morse code, and since the war was lost all communication comes at risk.

The war between the government and its people has been lost.
There is no free speech.
We are allowed no opinion.
No song can have meaning, no poem express emotion,
No painting can be more than a likeness.

The last free speaker, a famous infidel, a useless martyr was shot outside my window last night and then the man who shot him was gassed to death. The sound from the shot had echoed, the government couldn’t know whether it had been an accident or a secret code.
Better dead than uncertain.

I cannot say that that was bad,
I cannot say that I wish for better,
I cannot tell you how I feel or that I feel the silence is spreading to other countries.
I cannot tell you the stories of my mother, of the first Silence,
Of cd’s broken and books burned.
I cannot tell you or some fool will kill me too loudly and die for imagined free speech.

It’s 2056, it’s 2056, it’s 2056, but it started with a 7, it started with a 7, it stared with the SHAC 7.
Jailed in 2006 for having a firm position and convincing too many people, for speaking out too well for speaking freely the histories call them terrorists but what does that mean when walking too loudly gets you prison and interrogation, when possession of an Ipod gets you death?

The land of the free and the home of the brave is a terrified nation of weaklings and slaves now in 2056….

Wait! I shouldn’t have said that - the spying computers and cameras are buzzing the alarm. What can I say for my last words? I have no daughter to pass the story to they broke down the door they’re coming up the stairs remember me

Remember killing in the name of the Silence, remember books and music and remember art with meaning. Remember the SHAC 7, Remember the SHAC 7 It’s 2056, it’s 2056, it’s 2056,
Remember free speech.


I wrote this poem after hearing the story of the shac7. 6 jailed originally, 1 freed for having served his time. you can learn more about them at www.shac7.com.
I've written poems about the original Silencings ( the ones that killed free speech in art, books, music ect.) and will post them soon

What This is About

This blog is basically going to be a place to put up poetry and other writing by and for activists, mostly of the animal rights variety, because I have access to more of them. I'm doing this in an effort to show the world what we're about, to show the various movements for social justice that we have common ground, and because it needs to be done by some one, even if that someone has got to be me. leave a comment if you're interested in submitting a poem , a story ( fact or fiction), or even a picture. hell, comment if you're bored and happen to like the idea. gotta go advertise,

your (insert term that makes you laugh),
Plant_Murderer