The Great CR Peace-nik Sit-in

lunamoth

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For What It's Worth

(Buffalo Springfield)

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

/ E - A - / / / / E D A C /

There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
I think it's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

We better stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
 
I love that song.

Tracy Chapman

Tell me-
why do the babies starve,
when there's enough food to feed the world?
Why when there's so many of us
Are there people still alone?
And why are the missles called peacekeepers
when they're aimed to kill?
Why is a woman still not safe
when she's in her home?

Another day
War is peace
No is yes
And we're all free

But somebody's gonna have to answer
The time is coming soon
When the blind remove their blinders
And the people speak the truth
 
Wil takes his place in the om circle and with his heart receives a welcome home from others there....and as others arrive smiles and welcomes them home as well.
 
And in welcome.

Can we hold the yes and the no in one hand and hear the silence.......
....As it roars in declaration......Peace is Freedom.

And all over the world people find they are raising their hands and listen..............
....not knowing why.........They just are.

And smiles are growing on faces unknown to themselves, one to another.......
.
.....It just is......

- c -
 
In his typical loud-hippy fashion, Dauer enters the circle carrying his djembe and a boombox and immediately begins blasting Deer Dance by SOAD, shouting over the music in staccato daggers at odd intervals while playing his djembe, "This is your democracy!" and, "War is bogus, right K.G.?" and "Make love, not terrorists!" Although it's hard to hear what he's saying because the music is so freaking loud.

Round, Round,

Circumventing circuses,
Lamenting in protest,
To visible police,
Presence sponsored fear,

Battalions of riot police,
With rubber bullet kisses,
Baton courtesy,
Service with a smile

Beyond the Staples Center you can see America,
With its tired, poor, avenging disgrace,
Peaceful, loving youth against the brutality,
Of plastic existence.

Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around,
Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around.

Round, Round,

A rush of words,
Pleading to disperse,
Upon your naked walls, alive,
A political call,
The fall guy accord,
We can't afford to be neutral on a moving train,

Beyond the Staples Center you can see America,
With its tired, poor, avenging disgrace,
Peaceful, loving youth against the brutality,
Of plastic existence.

Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around,
Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around.

Push them around,
A deer dance, invitation to peace,
War staring you in the face, dressed in black.
With a helmet, fierce,
Trained and appropriate for the malcontents,
For the disproportioned malcontents,
The little boy smiled, it'll all be well,
The little boy smiled it'll all be well,

Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around,
Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around.
Pushing little children,
With their fully automatics,
They like to push the weak around,
Push the weak around,
Push the weak around,
Push the weak around,
They like to push the weak around.

At the end of the song he shuts off the boombox.
 
Okay.....

You cant talk of peace if your hitting out war..........too raw.

This one's by a friend of mine, I'd like to introduce Dean Dyson......


Piece of Heaven

Oh the wind is high
Comeing off the ocean
Hear the tall trees moan
And you feel it cut
Every new emotion
As you stand alone
Close your eyes
Your on the inside
Let your mind slow down
No one else can make that step
And turn your world around

Everyone's got a piece of heaven
Deep inside their heart
If every one could share
Their piece of heaven
Maybe then we'd see
Heaven on earth

That the world is mad
There is no denying
You just take your time
Don't ever stop
Never give up trying
Till the lines all rhyme

It must be better to ignite
Your flame
Than to cast the blame
It must be better to
Turn on your light
Than to curse the night


Inevitably.........all you need is Love

Peace - c -
 
Welcome all. Thank you for your contributions on our alter of peace. Keep 'em coming.

Here's hoping you'll all be staying for the candle-lighting this evening. We've invited President Bush and hope he also stays for the viewing of Platoon, followed by All's Quiet on the Western Front, which we've set up to project on the screen behind the Jefferson Monument.

Latrines are in the back. Let's remember, keep it peaceful, keep it clean. Leave it better than we found it.
 
Ciel,

the only way to honestly talk about peace is to confront the harsh realities of the world, one of the most salient of which is war. Otherwise we're only deluding ourselves with ungrounded fantasies.

plays Too Many Puppies by Primus on his boombox

Too many puppies are being shot in the dark.
Too many puppies are trained not to bark
At the sight of blood that must be spilled so that
We may maintain our oil fields.
Too many puppies
Too many puppies are taught to heel.
Too many puppies are trained to kill
On the command of men wearing money belts that buy
Mistresses sleek animal pelts.
Too many puppies.

Too many puppies with guns in their hands.
Too many puppies in foreign lands.
Are dressed up sharp in suits of green and
Placed upon the war machine.
Too many puppies are just like me.
Too many puppies are afraid to see
The visions of the past brought to life again,
Too many puppies, too many dead men.

shuts off his boombox.
 
Dauer,

Then see how the feather floats in the tears of the peacekeeper who would wish to lighten the heart of man.

In Peace
- c -
 
To quote the immortal John Lennon:

"All we are saying is give peace a chance."

And this I would say not just to President Bush and his administration, but to all the leaders of governments, religions, and factions of each. Because as much as we like to demonize the current United States administration (and I am as guilty of that as anyone, not being happy with much of what it does), it is by far not the only contributor to the problems of the world.

I don't care how much an individual or a group has been put upon by a greater worldly power, flying airplanes into buildings or turning oneself into an instrument of destruction by strapping on explosives and igniting them in a public place is not going to solve anyone's problems. On the contrary, that just escalates the problems we see to a point beyond which no one will ever be willing to compromise.

That is the key word, I think. Compromise. The governments and corporations of the west are going to have to get used to the idea that the world is not their plaything, and the people of the world are not their pawns, to be used for their own gain and then thrown away like so much trash. In return, those who have been wronged by these power-hungry, money-hungry jerks are going to have to get used to the idea that just because they have been wronged, that doesn't mean that they deserve to be able to turn around and do equal or worse damage to those who have wronged them. And all sides - no matter where in the world they live or what belief system they subscribe to - are going to have to come to the accomodation that just because someone looks different from them, thinks differently than they do, does things differently, and believes different things than they do, that doesn't mean that the different ones deserve to die.

That is because in the final analysis, we are all different. Every single one of us. I do not know one person in this world who looks exactly like I do, who thinks exactly like I do, who does everything exactly like I do, who believes exactly the same things that I do. There is nothing wrong with that. So, our only hope is to embrace diversity, celebrate it, love it.

That is our only alternative, if we want to continue to exist as a species. If we take the other road, the only eventual outcome is destruction. Because, as sure as anything - and history has taught us this - if one group succeeds in ridding the world of all but its own followers, within days, if not minutes, new divisions will begin to form and the whole ugly process will start all over again, and it won't stop until there is one poor soul left to preside over the end of humankind.
 
Ciel,

could you speak a little less cryptically? I have no clue what you're trying to say to me.

Bob Dylan joins the group, strumming the intro to Masters of War, and begins to sing

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
 
Dauer,

In terms you may understand;

To provoke aggression in the name of peace is as defiled as the present state of the latrines. Can I put your name forward to clean them up.

love and peace - in peace.
- c -
 
Ciel,

How am I provoking aggression? I'm merely someone who comes from a wholistic mentality. If I said that only the the kumbaya approach is kosher, what kind of example does that set? This approach is just as Godly. Certainly when groups organize and play this type of music in anti-war protests or peace rallies, they're just as much in the right as those who strum guitars and bang tambourines, and they seem to be just as tolerated. It seems much more like a cultural ignorance on your part impedes you from seeing the righteousness of this music, which places it directly in the biblical prophetic tradition. These are the Isaiahs of our time.

To quote from an interview Ken Wilber had with Serj Tankien of System of a Down on Wilber's Integral Naked radio, maybe to help you see the other side of things:

Ken:"...But there's also a certain, for lack of a better term, righteous indignation or righteous anger, at the narrowness or the triviality or brutality that still exists in the people who aren't opening in a wider way, and that's I think obviously some of the tones you can see in your music as well...
There's a playful side...light and open side.. but there's also some that's as serious as a heart attack, which it should be. And then you switch into what I think can only be called a kind of screaming anger, which I think is appropriate and it's that strange sort of confluence of opposite feelings that you open yourself to this playful creativeness, but part of it is a shout.

Serj: ...over the years when people ask me 'how could you be so angry?' and I'm like, 'I'm not angry.' And they don't understand that the building of that power to release is not necessarily anger at all or aggressiveness, that it's more of like, when I listen to old chants or native american singing, there's always one point where it goes from this loopy uhhhh turny kind of lost drunkeness kind of ethereal state to this kind of SHOUT! HOH! You know? And it's like that breaking of the silence, or maybe screaming at the God- I don't know what it is, but it's kinda like throwing that energy to, maybe either out of yourself or, maybe, I don't know what it is, but I do it.

Wilber: Almost another positive side of passion, don't you think? That there's always been, certainly in a lot of the wisdom traditions, there's always been a connection between passion and compassion, so that there's an opening and a caring, but then out of that there's a shout... that's not anger, and I agree. And some of the passages in my work... it's not anger. That's basically just intensity of awareness."

Transcribed from:

http://www.integralnaked.org/Podcast/SerjTankian-Politics,Justice,RockandRoll.mp3

Plays Broken Yet United by the Israeli black metal band, Salem, on his boombox

Broken, not united you see the disguise
Broken, not united
See where we've come with our collective hate

We leave behind ideals of a dying generation
Slip away

Bread and blood is life
God's gift to mankind
Broken yet revised
See where we've come
Broken, not united

We keep dry
under the rain of terror

Broken, not united

We leave behind
ideals of a dying generation
Slip away

Berated not refined
You see through the lies
Broke your nets and found
a peaceful haven
Turn it upside down
We keep dry under raining terror
Children die to fuel the flame of hate
Broken yet united

turns off the boombox
 
Last edited:
I just want to ask President Bush to not make any new wars today. Our children are not fodder.

Thanks to for your words LittleMissAttitude and to everyone else for their powerful cries.

The mike is open.
 
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Reactions: wil
Ciel,

what are you talking about? If you have something to say to me, please be direct. The indirect statements you've made so far have seemed pretty cryptic to me, and if I were to guess, I'd say you're engaging in ad hominem abusive instead of answering the actual meat of what I have to say.

Dauer



As Monday was Memorial Day here in the US, this is a song by Metallica about a soldier who was injured in war severely by a landmine, and is now bound to a bed in some sort of coma. As we yearn for peace, we need to remember all of the victims of war, not only the ordinary citizens who get caught up in the war zones, but the soldiers too. I would appreciate if we could have a moment of silence after the song ends.

Plays One by Metallica on his boombox

I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel to scream
This terrible silence stops me

Now that the war is through with me
I'm waking up, I cannot see
That there is not much left of me
Nothing is real but pain now

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please, God, wake me

Back in the womb it's much
too real
In pumps life that I must feel
But can't look forward to reveal
Look to the time when I'll live

Fed through the tube that sticks in me
Just like a wartime novelty
Tied to machines that make me be
Cut this life off from me

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please, God, wake me

Now the world is gone, I'm just one
Oh God, help me
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please, God, help me

Darkness imprisoning me
All that I see
Absolute horror
I cannot live
I cannot die
Trapped in myself
Body my holding cell

Landmine has taken my sight
Taken my speech
Taken my hearing
Taken my arms
Taken my legs
Taken my soul
Left me with life in hell

shuts off the boombox
 
War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
War is something that I despise
For it means destruction of innocent lives
For it means tears in thousands of mothers’ eyes
When their sons go out to fight to give their lives

War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
Say it again
War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing

War
It’s nothing but a heartbreaker
War
Friend only to the undertaker
War is the enemy of all mankind
The thought of war blows my mind
Handed down from generation to generation
Induction destruction
Who wants to die

War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
Say it again
War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing

War has shattered many young men’s dreams
Made them disabled bitter and meanlife is too precious to be fighting wars
Each day
War can’t give life it can only take it away

War
It’s nothing but a heartbreaker
War
Friend only to the undertaker
Peace love and understanding
There must be some place for these things today
They say we must fight to keep our freedom
But lord there’s gotta be a better way
That’s better than
War

War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
Say it again
War
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
 
"We have a secret weapon ... we will deprive America of The Enemy. And how (then will) you justify ... the military expenditures that bleed America white?" -- Georgi Arbatov, Director, Soviet Institute of the US and Canada, Letter to the New York Times, 1987

An analysis of the events that have followed the fall of the Soviet Union fifteen years ago leads to a tragic conclusion: The United States economy, as currently constituted, cannot maintain itself without an international enemy. The defeat of one enemy, Soviet Communism, did not result in a "peace dividend." Instead it led to a desperate search for a new enemy to justify a continuation of the Military-Industrial (Political-Academic-Media) complex. Then Osama bin Laden, al Qaeda and "Islamo-Fascism" - George Bush's "Axis of Evil" - obligingly stepped forward to fill this role. And so we continue to build multi-billion dollar aircraft carriers and submarines, and an unworkable missile defense system, and we have reinvigorated our atomic weapons program, to fight the new enemy: fanatics armed with box-cutters, and armed brigands hiding in the caves of Afghanistan and Pakistan. We now spend as much on our military as the rest of the entire world combined. Our military hardware is truly impressive, yet we cannot defeat an "insurgency" in a small country equipped only with small arms and improvised explosives, nor are we willing to furnish our troops with body armor and potable water.

Is this any way for a civilized nation to behave?

http://journals.democraticunderground.com/CrisisPapers/21

Chris
 
Poh sits at the computer thinking about the 60's and visions of rose petals floating in the wind and lining the path appear:

"Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, A Book of Verse ... and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow."

Wine of the Mystic
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
A Spiritual Interpretation by
Paramahansa Yogananda

"Glossary - Bread: Prana, or life force (cosmic lift energy). Beneath the bough: With attention inwardly concentrated on the cerebrospinal tree of consciousness (whose trunk is the pranic pathway of life into the body, and whose branches are the nervous system). Wine: God-intoxication; the bliss of divine love that comes when one communes with God in meditation. A Book of Verse: Inspirations of divine love emanating from the heart, Thou: God, the Cosmic Beloved. Singing: Entertaining with intuitional perceptions of sublime truth. In the wilderness: In inner silence, whence crowds of restless thoughts have departed. Wilderness is paradise: The initial loneliness felt in the stillness of deep meditation, owing to the absence of restless thoughts, becomes a paradise to the devotee when he discovers therein the celestial bliss of God."

We all read from the Rubbaiyat of Omar Khayyam in the 60's (I was then about 20 years old) but did not understand the inner meaning. This was always my favorite piece. My daughter was born in the 1960's ....my husband was a graduate student at Berkeley in California .... it was a beautiful time .... me ke aloha pumehana, poh
 
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