PULSE
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Israel is bordering genocide
And the wall has been erected.
It's wintertime, supplies are low
As chosen children die from blows
Of revenge, revenge, re-venge
My frienas
I know naught
The secret wars fought
On foreign Sunday afternoons,
Nor which side of the fence to stand on.
With hands on my knees
I pray
Hoping that the golden light
Encircling my heart
May spread beyond my own confusions.
Who is to blame?
In the name of Abraham, and Moses
Gibran and Mohammed
Whose lessons are blessings
Broken apart, and re-molded
Into deadly weapons
Buried beneath trembling temples
And gold steeples
Where the townspeople remain
Outcasts from their own homes.
Orphans of modernity, shattered,
Running hysterically
Through war zones with tattered
Torahs and cracked Korans
In holy back pockets,
Silently longing for a piece of peace
Or at least a slice of land
Away from the constant destruction.
Karmic emptions
And who's paying the price
For this mechanical device
Erected in the name of Democracy, or Faith
Or Oil (black gold), or Rights of Ownership
Or choose one, or two or three.
Turn to POEM, page 11
game review
f -zero
restaurant review
lucky noodle page 10
columns:
notes from the
underground pages
reasoning with
madness pages
features: forgotten films:
fiIm. fest page 6 'bucket of blood' page 7
monologue page 7
dance concert page 6
ospirg brief page i
night music page 9