Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Terror:  
an instance or cause of intense fear or anxiety

Terrorism:  
violence or threats of violence used for intimidation of coercion


What is terror?

to us  

an abstract concept
a heavily armed man
or harmless insect

buzzing here and there
each time the wind blows

the more terror we make
the more terror we create

how to stop it?
nobody knows



I ran off a helicopter
looked in a man's eyes

the face
looking back
said terror

to my surprise

how am I different?

I'd feel the same
playing banjo on my porch
watching troops 
jump outta planes

how long will those people suffer?

as long as we
can tell ourselves
their life is not
the same

Monday, April 11, 2011

Springtime

March 20, 2011

It’s springtime in Natchez, Mississippi and Kabul, Afghanistan.  As I watched the moon crawl out of bed last night, preparations were made for the questions I’d be asking the youth of Afghanistan at 1:00 am.

Yesterday, the Afghan Youth Peace Volunteers along with Afghans For Peace and Iraqi & American Reconciliation Project hosted a global conference call to facilitate dialogue between Afghan youth and the rest of the world.  A friend of mine let me know they're seeking U.S. Afghan war vets for the call and said to contact them if interested, so I did.

The coordinator set up a time slot for sharing information about A Ride Till The End (ARTTE) and to ask questions about peace work on the ground in Afghanistan.


Due to the call time, I stepped out on the front porch to keep from disturbing our host.  It was a beautiful night, fit for this conversation.

A few minutes into the call it became obvious I was going to be the one answering questions and it was my honor and pleasure to do so.  They kept me talkin about ARTTE and my personal observations and opinions on U.S. war culture, which are questions I’ve grown accustomed to answering. 

The call had a very talented translator named Hakim; I’m still in awe at how much he remembered and spoke back in a different language.  The conversation started with questions about the ride and after we worked through the usual, it got a little hard.

I’m used to giving Americans the blunt truth about the general ignorance we share as a nation, but there was something deeply troubling and painful about telling a group of peace-seeking Afghan youth the average American knows very little about the war - a war destroying everything they know.  Although it pained me to say it, no one deserves the truth more than them, especially from an Afghan vet.

After I shared with them the average U.S. citizen simple doesn't understand the war, they quickly responded with, “Are you finding much support for the bike ride and ending the war?”  This turned out to be equally hard to answer.  How do I tell’em almost every U.S. citizen we interact with doesn't support the war?  How do I tell’em the U.S. government is waging a war against the will of its own people?  There is no southernly hospitable way to say such a thing, so I just said it.

Then came the clincher.  As I was gazing into the darkness across the street, stunned from the reality of what I just spoke, words poured into my ear that immediately sharpened my focus on the images in the darkness.  “What can we do to help?”, rang in my head as I stared at a couple, drunk and stumbling around four columns supporting the front of a plantation style multimillion dollar home.

Shouldn't I be asking them that question, I thought to myself.  My mind was blank, as I sat face to face with the privilege induced ambivalence that caused the war.  I eventually shared with them that what they're doing is helping and we need to continue listening to each other and building relationships, it’s our creative capacity that holds the answers.

The call ended shortly after that and they gifted me a unified, “Thank you, Jacob!”.  It was a touching exchange I’ll remember for the rest of my life.  It was also a haunting reminder of the truth we face in this country.

Even a homeless veteran such as myself enjoys a life of privilege worthy of shame in a world where our government creates hell for the youth of Afghanistan.  Our privilege has blinded us from good sense. The obvious has been hidden across the street, under flappin American flags in the Mississippi moonlight.  If the rich wanted freedom for the poor, than the rich would be fighting the wars.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

I know you don't mean it

If you saw the smiles
could you say
the things you do?

Quote, "Nuke the country
make it a parkin lot
we can show'em
Democracy
by buildin
wal-marts!"

Well, I love to break it to you

they have
their own
stores too

sometimes it rains
sometimes it snows
sometimes the skys
are blue

They even have farmers
working their fields
I've been there
I know it's true

One time,
I approached
the mountains
to wash off
in a snowy spring

it reminded me
of Arkansas:

mountains - without the green

I know you speak
from ignorance
your words
you can't understand

The beauty of life is everywhere

even in
Afghanistan

Thursday, February 24, 2011

support the troops

"we just Need to support the troops"
is what they tell me

well, this is from a troop
so listen carefully

what we Need are teachers who understand the history of this country
what we Need is a decent living wage, so people aint cold and hungry
what we Need is bicycle infrastructure spanning this beauteous nation
what we Need are more trees and less playstations
what we Need is a justice system that seeks the truth
what we Need are more books and less boots

what 
we
Need

is love

for every woman and man
from southern Louisiana
to the mountains of Afghanistan



Now, it's true
The troops need support

-the support to come home

they need treatment and jobs and love for the soul

see,
war ain't no good
for the human condition
I lost a piece of who I was
on every single mission
and I'm tellin you,
don't thank me for what I've done


give me a big hug
and let me know

we're not gonna let this happen again

because we support the troops
and we're gonna bring these wars to an end

Who's the enemy?

 
this is for my battle buddy, Cooper, who in basic training
lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood
teeth missing, eyes swollen shut
I could see the boot prints on his face
beat for bein black, beat for his race

this is for G-force
the brick house jumpmaster, paratroopin disaster 
Maaan, he could sing!
and make everyone laugh
but they called him names when he turned his back
see, G took care of me and I trusted him for that 
he taught me how to fly, how to pull the trigger
and no afghani ever called him nigger

this is for the Vietnam Vet
who told me he didn't fear the death he might meet
because of his skin color, 
he already worried about bein strung up
just for walkin down his own street


we were told the military would teach us 
how to share our freedom
but what we learned was a new level of hate.

when we weren't training to kill people with turbans 
we were conditioned to hate our sisters and brothers
foreign, domestic, and urban 

this institution thrives on hate:

there was a swastika brand on the chest
of my first army roommate.  
he told me uncle sam didn’t care
but I couldn’t help but stare

at the absurdity of a man
wearing an arrowhead patch 
representing the spirit of the Native Americans 
crowned with a U.S. flag, on a blouse 
encasing a chest
branded with a symbol of hate 
this uniform supposedly defeated?

I’ve got news for you America
the enemy isn't in the Middle East
or Africa or Asia or Central and South America

It’s within you 
and it’s within me
It’s the institution of hate
that keeps people from bein free.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Prayer to the Great Peacemaker

the purest tears 
I've ever cried 
were not for my own

they were for the beauty in front of my eyes

some call this earth
I call it home 


home is where the heart is
my heart: built of this soil

this body fueled 
with timeless death
this life 
I will not spoil 

Great Peacemaker, I invite you into my heart
in union, for the remainder of our time. 

may peace be my lover
for peace, these eyes will cry