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The history of America’s science fictiondon’t take my word say it with picturesman the life boats spaced out missionsonly the Pentagon has money for winchesand a screw come loose in the trenchesa vote for either or’s natural selection

channel choices, tunnel vision pilots

elect evangelical bargain basement schism

wall to wall cars throughout the solar system

can you buy your way past the world bank

K-9 shoppers as long as you don’t think the

whole Big Bang’s yours including the kitchen sink

the sky’s the limit while there’s enough to eat

keep your foot on the gas and remain in your seat.



This spring, Laurie started actively pursuing an ongoing collaboration with Sol y Soul and the BlackOut Arts Collective, two other groups in the community doing work similar to that of the Guerrillas. The first concrete opportunity emerged in "The Other Side," a hip hop play put together by Sol y Sol, also featuring TriFlava.

We performed the show tonight in Space A at The Studio Theater as the closing act of the Hip Hop Theater Festival, which ran all week at a variety of venues including the Kennedy Center and Howard University. A packed house of around 200 people offered a standing ovation for the show, which one guerrilla in the audience described as "magnificent."

The Washington Post's Style section ran a front-page article today discussing the festival and its reflections of conscious hip-hop. After noting "The Other Side," and mentioning its appearance at the Studio Theater, the article quoted Sol Y Soul Director Regie Cabico (who also directed "The Other Side") at length:

"Hip-hop has created a generation where teens are attracted to poetry more than ever," Cabico said. "In the '70s, everyone wanted to be a rock star. In the '90s, everyone wanted to be a spoken-word poet. In this particular decade, you are seeing multi-performance artists coming together. . . .People are taking the power onto themselves. I feel we are heading into a new era. Who knows where it is going?

Read the rest of this entry »

Darfur, Darfur, Darfur,

I wanna shed my stress in Darfur,
where the rats eat well,
the graveyards too
and children take grenades to
the schools.

In Darfur
you can get
your dreamt six pack,
and eat all organic
cause you’re gonna thrive on your guts.

In Darfur
rape is a civil right
and you don’t have to worry
cause somebody else
will beat your wife.

there, you've got

no problems to get a gun

and can practice easily shootin

your neighbors or your son

and you'll be praised not send to prison

if you kidnap a woman

and please her with female circumcition

In Darfur freedom will be

according to your own standards

nobody will have a word

not even these U.N. nosy bastards

No more constraints!!

just sit down and relax

enjoy the suffocating atmosphere

and all the fun in Sudan!

gorila from delawhere-spain connection

viva la evolucion!

So I did a full re write of the Baghadad Blues by friend and all around awesome Shahid Buttar, here is how it goes!

Class president in high school
abused a freshman or two
I stole their money
kicked their ass went to court
but my rich lawyer daddy got the judge to abort

When I became the C.E.O.
All I wanted to do was make a lotta dough
So I sent off little boys straight to Iraq
Told their moms that they ain’t coming back
because they are shooting at brown people in the sand
while the moneys swept up by my corporate hand
I will supress you if you try and make a stand
so just continue to attack foreign land
got of my yatch in a port in mystic
saw people everywhere on the sound they aren’t as rich as me so I look down
on their poor asses as I get driven into town

I was off in my convoy two SUVs
every twenty seconds taking a sip from my martini
Billing elevated fees to all my employees
Hey driver lets go buy some gold plated skis

And they are shooting at brown people in the sand
while the moneys swept up by my corporate hand
I will supress you if you try and make a stand
so just continue to attack foreign land

I was driven up north to my cabin in Bangor
Feeling pride at my merger with Berger
Suddenly I find myself in legal tangles
from my bank accounts in the Bermuda triangles

My buddies on the jury and the judge is too
Hope since I am rich I won’t get treated like you
that drug dealer who had a dirty shoe
I want to walk free and move down to Malibu

And they are shooting at brown people in the sand
while the moneys swept up by my corporate hand
I will supress you if you try and make a stand
so just continue to attack foreign land

They gave me a fine to which I quickly paid off
got in my car lit a ciggerette started to cough
when you are rich you can always get off
unless your name is Abramoff

See all you gotta do is pay off a judge or two
become friends with the president tear a country in two
then all the politicians will support you
and then you can keep polluting the blue
as well as And they shooting at brown people in the sand
while the moneys swept up by my corporate hand
I will supress you if you try and make a stand
so just continue to attack foreign land

mom mom mom mom

can't you see

look what baby don't to me

he took away my std

and let me watching barney

tic tac toe

three in a row

barney got shot by gro

we went to the doctor

and the docter say

sorry kids but barney death

The American Foreign Legion is coming to your town

A bipartisan resolution to help illegals stick around

Republicans get cheap labor, Democrats get more votes

Illegals get free housing, plus feed for all their goats

As goose-step ambassadors for the Commander In Chief

This minimum wage job will keep your family on relief

You'll learn to vote, bomb and maime in various ways

As you march and sing Hail To The Chief at dawn each day

You'll invade Augusta, Georgia-search for WMDs

Bush knows them tall, needly-things can't all be pine trees

"Destry all their bunkers and set them flags on f'ar!"

This terrorist golf course is one my daddy couldn't par

Your past crimes against others that you never denied

Now work in your favor; Hey! you're pre-qualified!

You can practice any religion-worship alligator shoes

But if you're caught, I promise you'll pay some heavy dues.

Bush'll cut teacher's salaries to buy your uniforms

Then buy even-smarter bombs with Social Security reform

Your unpatriotic neighbors we're taking away

Our scanner shows their drawers weren't made in the USA

You'll have computerized weapons and ballistics second to none

And planes that track and vaporize your enemies as they run

We've figured out how to use you without setting you free

But Congress is hoping like hell that you won't mutiny

So all you soldiers of fortune and action-figure sons

Get paid to live your "closet life" as Attila The Hun.

Just sign up now, or make an "X" whichever you can do

A lifetime job and a MasterCard is waiting for you.

These taxes are killing me,
tax my soul, my heart
tax my love to pay for hate
blowing up in the name of state;
well, I'll file them for you,
little machines of death,
and you'll call yourself Caesar,
but all you really do
is make it difficult to please her:
the money could be for flowers,
or new shoes on cold feet.
You ought to put this money
into making our cultures meet
with handshakes and cheek kisses,
these are more targeted
than your smart bomb misses.
So, here's my god damned money
that I worked hard all year for
and there you go again
simply ignoring the dying poor.
Fine – I'll go and march
in the May day parade
with the people really working
and not playing charades
while you take my money
and destroy other places,
so these new homeless
have somewhere to go,
come to our golden shores
since we blew up yours.

This is a response to the shootings at Virginia Tech. I was shocked to read his profile because it was a ringer for me during a good span in my life. I talked with a friend who felt much the same way. We explored for a moment the dangerous thoughts of knowing how he felt, knowing we were in a place where we thought of and considered similar actions. Knowing the pressure that can be on you when you feel 100% outside, and the cracks I feel through, I feel perhaps more sad for him, to have no way out of his misery except that which he chose. Anyway, its quick and rough, but I give you "It coulda been me" :

It coulda been me
Going to school at V – T
It coulda been me
Alone, cold and angry

I mean, I never thought I'd live past 23
And if I'd lived, I would never be free
Now I am thirty-five and shocked
Because it could have been me

Every day life bearing down
Sucking me under making me drown
Laying awake, dreaming of escape
Because it could have been me
Going to school at V – T
It coulda been me
Alone, cold and angry

I am afraid of everything cruel or kind
It takes a toll and bends the mind
Mostly afraid of one day SNAP
Because it could have been me

No one to listen, no one care
No one to love, no one share
Alone with this brutal legacy
Because it could have been me

Violence is my first and last choice
I hate you because I have no voice
I write and joke and talk
Because it could have been me
Going to school at V – T
It coulda been me
Alone, cold and angry

For his despair, I take responsibility
For this my part in the patriarchy
And the sorrow I feel
Because it coulda been me

Dear Mr. President,
We have not lifted a finger
to hurt you in your home:
we are not you, will not be you;
we have raised our voices
with a global unity
that our harmony will prevail
over the destruction you desire.

I have heard that these marches
will simply fall on deaf ears,
but they are not for you –
with your soul given over
to the demands of the devil –
rather, they are for us
so that we may be reassured
your evil will not continue
past that time which you have stolen
from each affected being:
those moments with her children,
those moments with his wife,
those moments of joy,
those moments of sorrow
all stolen by your hands.
Don't you know that a soul
can never be yours to keep?
that it will always go the way of kindness
into the memories of those who love?
Did you not find this
in your flee from the degradation of war,
in the joy of your children's first words,
in the passion of making love?

Rest comfortably while you can:
the darkness at the end of life
will not be so easily endured
as the face of each of your victims
comes forward to forgive you –
may you find the will
to forgive yourself.

Greetings Humans,

I thought I would send out one of my vaguely annual missives on the world when I realized I had actual "news"! And the news is: I am moving to Zürich, Switzerland. I don't have a firm date yet, however, I expect it to be in the next 2 months or so – definitely by June 1st. So, if I owe you money, cigarettes, a beer [or several], back massages, etc. – don't count on getting them; unless you can get to me before I go, or find yourself in Europe.

Some have asked me why I' moving and well, to be honest, I really do love America, but I've decided it's time to start seeing other countries. It seems through most of my life I've heard the phrase, "America: love it or leave it" and I finally decided that I can't make my country love me, so there's no point us being together anymore. Oh, don't get me wrong, I will miss terribly the majestic blue sky that hangs – almost precariously – over Montana, and the deep purple of the shadows across the Arizona mesas. I imagine I will long for the songs of spring nights in Connecticut and the sultry summer eves in New England. I'm not sure I will ever find another West Virginia with blue mountains languishing in the mist at sunrise, or the lonely hot air of west Texas in August that always presents some introspective view on the soul of humanity. My country and I have had a hell of a go 'round and there are a lot of things I will never forget. Sadly, the last 7 years will be burned into my memory as her infidelities raged out of control with that rapist in the white house and his clan on the hill. I'm not bitter about the assassination of the ideals that so many died for and so many lived for. These things happen when you take a decent place and turn it into the capital of an empire. She couldn't compete anymore with the whores in the harem that offered their resources up to her handlers on the hill for nothing but tacit acknowledgment. I will always love her and the values she etched into my soul as we watched the sunset together on a beach in northwestern Washington. Read the rest of this entry »

The DC Guerrilla Poetry Insurgency (GPI) is an anti-authoritarian, collaborative, pro-humanity artists' collective incorporating music, rhythm, spoken word, community and resistance.

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