August 29

二十一世纪

文明的乐章演奏着奔向火星激昂

科学没有绝望存在的是主观而非客观的绝望科技

创造与使用、滥用

先知们人类存在的主体——良心、人性、道德、和谐、发展

科学的道德规范创立了吗

鲜花我们谦逊而自豪地接受

权威性我们最有发言权

假如良心屈从于少数非理智者滥用

我们良心终身谴责默本海奥的壮举举世崇敬

世界本没有真正的绝望有的是绝望的思维

我们向往我们在等待中

冬已暗香衰残

糊涂岁月中忘了久违的归路

寂寞的人在天涯边

技术灾难把我们的思维超度得精疲力竭

夜香中的烛火

寻觅着人生升华

折磨、摧残我们赤胆相照两昆仑

心灵从没有干涸我们的宗旨——再荒凉的土地也会变成生机勃勃的绿洲

春风浮动

人民“井喷”似的呼唤理性而创造性的认识

不熄灭的文明之花重新焕发出耀眼的光芒

时光的脚步近了

August 27

27 Aug 07 Peoms from victims

HOPE

----Justice Ruiz"

Everyday somewhere we hope,

All of us believe in freedom,

The efforts of the many,

I know we all try,

Don't give up,

We have to know the truth,

Time for us seems forever,

To the few we reached heaven,

We pray and hope for all,

You are the hope and reminder,

Freedom exists just keep on,

IF

--Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

PREDICT THE UNPREDICTABLE  ?

--Beth Buchanan

>   PREDICT THE UNPREDICTABLE

 or unpredict the truth

>   insurance for life of field trips

>   to try the ones with ruse

>   trial or circumstance, theatre of the sane

>   is now the trail of victims who have scripts anew

>   to stand up and be counted twice in vain

>   to ne'er try run the gamut in this land of blocked view

>   the courts they all have jestors

>   no judges   are the verdict now

>   to juggle this and sing a tune

>   to not consume the sacred cow

>   well, raw some are whose plight is lost

>   we'll hope to heat the cold

>   the heat they gave us in uniform

>    devoid of heavens streets of gold.

>   to get behind the innocent

>   so they are not behind bars

>   to move  with grace towards justice too

>   not monkeys sent to mars

>   we can move mountains if we choose

>   but not to block the view

>   for mountains are strategically placed

>   and justice then our news!!!!!!!

>   to make a film to help us all

>   to take the pain much more

>   is the Bodhisattva way

>   to heavens open door.

>   life is here and so is bliss

>   one need not yet descend

>   for work to do is why we're here

>   and jest we'll have to mend!!!!!!!!

>   this poem is to a man of heart

>   whose brain they try to ruin

>   because he tries to shed the light

>   to stop the discord tune.

>   so sing a song or say a prayer

>   or have a thought of love

>   to bring the jesters to the court

>   to intervene from up above.

>   justice now please I plead

>   he can take no more

>   nor can I, I smile, then cry

>   we're tired to the core.

>   this can change if we believe

>   and if we really care

>   theatre ruse is consciousness low

>   why is the high so rare ?

>   it's all it takes is numbers

>   it's all it takes is share

>   our core can brim with mirth and bliss

>   with all our truths to bare

poem written for Marshall Thomas, film maker and author, who is going to court on Thurs the 23 rd of Aug....

after trying to document the abuses on his life, mine and countless others. He continued with the films, books,

even though they " hit him MUCH MUCH harder" , and only the abused in these ways can know what this means!!!!!!!,

-----Beth Buchanan Aug 21 2007

WONG SCOTTISH PIES
    --Beth Buchanan
>   TAKE A PENNY, LEAVE A PENNY
>   FOR DNA REAL DEAL
>   AIR TRAFFIC, DRUG TRAFFIC
>   OR EMPTY BOWL OF RICE
>    
>   MOROSE COFFEE POTS, FOR PRIESTS
>   SWEATSHIRTS AND DISCOURAGEMENT
>   WITH CHEAP-SEATS AT THE BACK
>   CAN'T EVEN VOTE WITH A FULL HALF MOON
>    
>   NO BANKS TO CLIMB , DO DEPOSIT
>   DO NOT PASS GO
>   CONGLOMERATE TEST PATTERN
>   MADE OF SNOW
>    
>   WE MAY NOT BE  BIG , BUT WE'RE SMALL
>   FRANCHISES
>   DYING FOR A LATTE LATER
>   IN WAREHOUSES AND RAILWAY STATIONS
>    
>   WOODEN CRATES FOR CHAIRS
>   A SPOT THAT IS BEAUTIFUL
>   A COPPER DOME 
>   IN THE PENNY JAR
>    
>   TIPS GO ASTRAY
>   WITH FOAM OF LATTE
>   GONE ASTRAY
>   REGULAR NO MORE, CRAPACHINO
>    
>   NO MEDIUM
>   A FAT MIDDLING WALLET
>   TUBBIES WITH REGULAR COLOSTRUM
>   SUGAR FREE AND PLAIN
>    
>   ROCK COD SPRINKLES
>   ORIGINAL , NO FOAM
>   DE-CAF THIS
>   HEY KID, NO GOAT MILK
>    
>   THEATRE SCHOOL FOR TIPSTERS
>   WHICH PART DON'T YOU  UNDERSTAND?
>   STAND BY ME.!
>   STAND UP AND BE COUNTED
>    
>   IN THE LINE-UP
>   PROMOTING FREE FOOD
>   NOT THE LATTE FLUFF
>   HOW MANY WINNERS?
>    
>   WHO CAME FIRST?
>   DOROTHYS' HEALS CLICK
>   ON THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD
>   OF MIND kONTROL
>    
>   "TAKE OUT" COFFEE CUPS
>   STUTTERING AND CLUTTERING ALL
>   STYROFOAM STINKS
>   IT'S PURE WHITE CAMOFLAUGE OF IMMORTALITY
>    
>   "NEVER DIES " THEY SAY, 
>   NEVER BREAKS DOWN
>   WHO BREAKS DOWN
>   TO SEE THE EARTH DIE WITH A TOMBSTONE OF STYROFOAM
>    
>   GRANDMOTHERS  PROUD
>   OF ROCK COD IN GINGER
>   NOT LAUGHTER TO THE BANK
>   REDEEMABLE COUPONS OR MUSIC OF THE SPHERES?
 
INSPIRED BY  CBC RADIO   "THE VINYL CAFE" AUGUST  5TH 2007, NARRATED BY STEWART MACLEAN IN WHITEROCK.
POEM BY BETH BUCHANAN

May 17

Joan of arc is burning -- peom from nomi

JOAN OF ARC IS BURNING

(by nomidreamsofjustice)

May 16, 2007

Hiking in the countryside

By myself

All cares flow away

Slight breeze, hot sun

In distance faint slam of screen door

A butterfly flutters by

Suddenly, something in the air

Birds take flight cacophony of shrieks

Dogs howl

Rage in the bark

I feel electricity feel the burn

Burning dizzy swiftly inexplicable

A diarrhetic mess

And out of the swamp shadowy

Figures armed with persistent stare

Carrying euphemistic non-lethal weapons

Humanity's nightmare

Mouthing murder is attractive

Total war

No front line

No rear

No retreat

Escape impossible

Torture is loosed in the land

Torture destroys civilization

January 02

Peom--from BETH BUCHANAN (a victim)

THANKSGIVING...CANADIAN STYLE

OCT 11, 2004

>   THEY SAY IT IS A DAY TO REMEMBER
>   REMEMBRANCE DAY FOR THOSE GONE WRONG
>   WRONG ROADS TO DESTRUCTION OF INNOCENCE
>   A COUNTRY ONCE POPULATED BY NATURAL RHYTHM
>    RHYTHM OF DRUMS AND DANCE
>    THERE WAS NO ELECTRIC HYPE
>    THERE WAS NO TAKING FROM THE GIVING
>    THANKS TAKING FROM THE CIRCLES OF RHYTHM
>    WHO TO THANK FOR THE TURKEYS SLAUGHTERED
>    BY TURKEYS WHO BROUGHT THEM DOWN
>    DOWN DOWN DOWN TO UNDO THEIR GOWN
>    THEIR GOWNS OF GLORY MADE BY HAND
>    BY WOMEN WHO KNEW IT IS THEIR LAND
>
>   HOW CAN HEARTLESS PEOPLE NOW CELEBRATE
>    WHEN A FEW DOLLARS A HEAD WAS THE GOING RATE
>    WHO MADE THEM WHAT THEY ARE??
>    WHO WERE THOSE WHITE AND DAMAGING STARS??
>    LIGHTING UP THE SKY IN A HEXAGRAM
>    REVERSED FOR THOSE WHO SLAUGHTERED THE LAMB
>    THE LAMB WAS BLACK AND FILLED WITH FRIGHT
>    THE WEREWOLF SHIFTED WITHIN THE NIGHT
>
>    HOW CAN PEOPLE EAT SO FINE??
>    ON THIS DAY OF SACRIFICIAL BREAD AND WINE???
>    WHAT SAVIOUR CAME TO SIP AND DINE.??
>     ON CARCASES LEFT IN WOOD BOXES OF PINE
>     IN LATTER YEARS WE ALL PROTESTED THE DAY
>    UN THANKSGIVING...WE CALLED IT, GENOCIDE AT PLAY
>    I WILL NOT CELEBRATE THIS DAY OF COUNTRY FAIRE
>    A COUNTRY WHO TOOK THE CIRCLE AND MADE A CHAIR
>    JEWISH PEOPLE KNOW THE STORY WELL
>    KILLED IN THE NAME OF SOME SAVIOR'S BELL
>
>
>   RINGING OUT TIME ON SCHEDULE NOW
>    THE PEOPLE HAD TO LICK THEIR BOOTS AND BOW
>    FIRST PEOPLE ARE THE ONES WHO WILL PREVAIL
>    AS THEY NOW WATCH THE SERPENT EAT ITS' TAIL
>    CHRISTIANS QUOTE THE BIBLE AND TAKE THEIR LAND
>    SITTING BULL HAS NOT TAKEN HIS LAST STAND
>    IT IS OVER FOR THE ONES WHO STEAL AND LIE
>    IT IS TIME TO BID THEM ADIEU AND GOOD-BYE
>    THE REAL PROPHECIES OF THE OLD ONES WILL BE FULFILLED
>     THE ONES WHO CLAIM WHAT IS OTHERS WILL BE BILLED...
>
>   AND THAT IS IT IN A NUT-SHELL
>   .......NOT A COMPUTER CHIP..
>   NO NOURISHMENT THERE, FOR SOUL
>    WE SHALL OVERCOME
>   A DAY TO GIVE THANKS SHALL COME FOR ALL GOOD NOT SOME.

The Dance of the Red Man

> > > The Dance of the Red Man
> > > Standing still upon the hillside
> > > Facing into the setting sun
> > > Looking down upon the valley
> > > Where once herds of buffaloe did run...
> > >
> > > All that was before the whiteman
> > > When the Redman knew no shame
> > > Was as proud as anyone can
> > > Be of their nation and their name...
> > >
> > > But then along came the whiteman
> > > It was a long time ago...
> > > And since then for the redman:
> > > There has been only woe...
> > >
> > > Hark back to the days of old
> > > The days when the buffaloe roam...
> > > Hark back to the times of when stories were told
> > > To a time when this was their home.
> > >
> > > But today they live in the city
> > > In a land of girder and block
> > > And they are the ones who erect the girder
> > > And they work not by the sun, but by the clock.
> > >
> > > And the spirit of their people is crushed
> > > They are overcome, their will broken
> > > But once. though outnumbered they rushed
> > > To defend this land of which we've spoken.
> > >
> > > To the drink and the devil and the drugs
> > > Have turned the Dakota and the Cherokee
> > > In the city they may have jobs
> > > But they never will truly be free.
> > >
> > > You live by a white mans laws
> > > You live by grace of the white mans hand
> > > And though you may speak your native tongue
> > > Even your reservation is the white mans land.
> > >
> > > So what then of tomorrow?
> > > What of the days to come?
> > > The final annhilation of our races?
> > > More of what we have come from?
> > >
> > > Many of those who stole these lands
> > > Suffered as we in from where they came
> > > Their sins committed by their own hands
> > > They stole! And they have no shame!
> > >
> > > White man preaches on a Sunday
> > > Tells all not to steal and be good
> > > And each and every single day
> > > On stolen land he lives like not he should.
> > >
> > > Heres to the Spirits of the Redman
> > > Forsaken by the New God
> > > Who seems to favour the whiteman
> > > Of the Catholic, the Aimish, the Jew, the Prod.
> > >
> > > When they worshipped the Gods of olden times
> > > Though often beaten, they could resist
> > > Now worshipping the God of the whiteman:
> > > They were easy to dismiss.
> > >
> > > Pray to the Gods of the mountain
> > > For a better time let us pray...
> > > To the spirits for strenght do the ancient dances
> > > For a new and better day.

Tomas O' Carthaigh www.WritingsinRhyme.com

May 15

A little Match Girl(一个卖火柴的小女孩)

I am a little Match Girl,

Who is living in the cold darkness,

Who have been suffering from terribly torturing and harassment by Directed Energy weapon;

My life is a box of matches,

Everyday is one of the matches.

Everyday I would write some letters,

Like to light up some matches,

Wish there would be some people

Who could notice the cruel, inhuman, and cold blood;

Who could help me to stop fascist concentration camp，

And sentence torture according to law.

4 and half years suffering,

4 and half years matches finished.

If our lives can return to the past,

I would choose death

Rather than on their hands

I am a little match girl,

selling matches in the cold days,

When I sent out one letter,

I told myself,

I lit up one match,

and wished

there would be someone who could see the Faint flames

and come to help me.

I wished I could light up

a torchlight

in everyone’s heart.

我就是那个卖火柴的小女孩，

生活在冰冷的黑暗中，

在新式定向能武器的酷刑和骚扰中煎熬。

我的生命就是那盒火柴，

每天的生命就是火柴中的一根。

每天我都会写一些信，

就象是划亮一根火柴，

希望这微弱的光能够引起人们的注意，

看到他们的残暴，冷血，不人道；

希望人们能够来帮助我制止他们的法西斯集中营，

依法对他们审判。

4年半在酷刑中受尽折磨，

4年半的火柴燃尽。

如果我们的生命可以回到过去,

我宁愿选择死亡

也不落在他们的手里.

我是一个卖火材的小女孩，

正在寒冷的日子里卖火材,

每当我写了一封信,

我告诉我自己,

我又搽亮了一根火材,

希望有人能够看到这微弱的光,

能够来帮助我们.

我希望我能点燃

每个人心中的火炬.

Blog

29 Aug 07 受害者的诗