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Author Topic: 11 September poetic attacks
Babbler # 2534

posted 10 September 2003 03:02 PM      Profile for lagatta     Send New Private Message      Edit/Delete Post  Reply With Quote 
A writer in Mexico (sorry, lost the reference - he is not well-known) has come up with the idea of commemorating the 11 September events - I assume he is referring both to the military coup in Chile and the people who died in the WTC attacks - by leaving books or sheets of poetry - published poetry or one's own, in public places where others can read them, and dedicate them to the unknown person reading them.

In any case, a more poetic idea than bloody military coups or flying planes into huge office buildings ...

From: Se non ora, quando? | Registered: Apr 2002  |  IP: Logged
Babbler # 3807

posted 10 September 2003 11:02 PM      Profile for al-Qa'bong   Author's Homepage     Send New Private Message      Edit/Delete Post  Reply With Quote 
Irish Tribute to the Memory of Sept. 11 and Victor Jara

One of Jara's last Poems:

Chile Stadium
Lines composed between 12-15 September 1973, just before Jara was murdered by the Pinochet regime.

There are five thousand of us here
in this little part of the city.
We are five thousand.
I wonder how many we are in all
In the cities and in the whole country?
Here alone
are ten thousand hands which plant seeds
and make the factories run.
How much humanity
exposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain
moral pressures, terror and insanity?
Six of us were lost
as if into starry space.
One dead, another beaten as I could never
have believed
a human being could be beaten.
The other four wanted to end their terror -
one jumping into nothingness,
another beating his head against a wall,
but all with the fixed look of death.
What horror the face of fascism creates!
They carry out their plans with
knife-like precision.
Nothing matters to them.
For them blood equals medals,
slaughter is an act of heroism.
Oh God, is this the world that you created?
For this, your seven days of wonder and work?
Within these four walls only a number exists
which does not progress.
Which slowly will wish more and more for death.
But suddenly my conscience awakes
and I see this tide with no heartbeat,
only the pulse of machines
and the military showing their midwives' faces
full of sweetness
Let Mexico, Cuba and the world
cry out against this atrocity!
We are ten thousand hands
which can produce nothing.
How many of us in the whole country?
The blood of our companero Presidente
will strike with more strength than bombs
and machine guns!
So will our fist strike again.
How hard it is to sing
When I sing a song of horror.
Horror which I am living
Horror which I am dying.
To see myself among so much
and so many moments of infinity
in which silence and screams
are the end of my song.
What I see I have never seen
What I have felt and what I feel
will give birth to the moment......

Victor Jara


[ 10 September 2003: Message edited by: al-Qa'bong ]

From: Saskatchistan | Registered: Feb 2003  |  IP: Logged

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