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lundi 12 juin 2017

welcome back home Thomas

mardi 25 avril 2017

Tout le monde aime les seins

lundi 31 août 2015

Ebola Sierra Leone : the end ?

lundi 22 juin 2015

Merci Ibrahim !

lire la suite

samedi 21 juin 2014

Pedro

jeudi 13 mars 2014

The Last Poets – Niggers Are Scared of Revolution

Niggers are scared of revolution
But niggers shouldn't be scared of revolution
Because revolution is nothing but change
And all niggers do is change


Niggers come in from work and change into pimping clothes
And hit the streets to make some quick change

Niggers change their hair from black to red to blond
And hope like hell their looks will change

Nigger kill other niggers
Just because one didn't receive the correct change

Niggers change from men to women, from women to men
Niggers change, change, change

You hear niggers say
Things are changing? Things are changing?
Yeah, things are changing
Niggers change into 'Black' nigger things
Black nigger things that go through all kinds of changes
The change in the day that makes them rant and rave
Black Power! Black Power!
And the change that comes over them at night, as they sigh and moan:
White thighs, ooh, white thighs

Niggers always goin' through bullshit change
But when it comes for real change
Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are actors, niggers are actors
Niggers act like they are in a hurry
To catch the first act of the 'Great White Hope'

Niggers try to act like Malcolm
And when the white man doesn't react
Toward them like he did Malcolm
Niggers want to act violently

Niggers act so coooool and slick
Causing white people to say:
What makes you niggers act like that?
Niggers act like you ain't never seen nobody act before
But when it comes to acting out revolution
Niggers say: 'I can't dig them actions!'
Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are very untogether people
Niggers talk about getting high and riding around in 'els'
Niggers should get high and ride to hell
Niggers talk about pimping
Pimping that, pimping what
Pimping yours, pimping mine
Just to be pimping, is a helluva line

Niggers are very untogether people
Niggers talk about the mind
Talk about: My mind is stronger than yours
"I got that bitch's mind uptight!"
Niggers don't know a damn thing about the mind
Or they'd be right
Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers fuck. Niggers fuck, fuck, fuck
Niggers love the word fuck
They think it's so fuckin' cute
They fuck you around
The first thing they say when they're mad: 'Fuck it'
You play a little too much with them
They say 'Fuck you'
When it's time to TCB
Niggers are somewhere fucking
Try to be nice to them, they fuck over you

Niggers don't realize while they doin' all this fucking
They're getting fucked around
And when they do realize it's too late
So niggers just get fucked up

Niggers talk about fucking
Fuckin' that, fuckin' this, fuckin' yours, fuckin' my sis
Not knowing what they're fucking for
They ain't fucking for love and appreciation
Just fucking to be fucking

Niggers fuck white thighs, black thighs, yellow thighs, brown thighs
Niggers fuck ankles when they run out of thighs
Niggers fuck Sally, Linda, and Sue
And if you don't watch out
Niggers will fuck you!
Niggers would fuck 'Fuck' if it could be fucked
But when it comes to fucking for revolutionary causes
Niggers say 'Fuck revolution!'
Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are players, niggers are players, are players
Niggers play football, baseball and basketball
While the white man cuttin' off their balls

When the nigger's play ain't tight enough
To play with some black thighs
Niggers play with white thighs
To see if they still have some play left
And when there ain't no white thighs to play with
Niggers play with themselves

Niggers tell you they're ready to be liberated
But when you say 'Let's go take our liberation'
Niggers reply: 'I was just playin'
Niggers are playing with revolution and losing
Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers do a lot of shootin'
Niggers do a lot of shootin'

Niggers shoot off at the mouth
Niggers shoot pool, niggers shoot craps
Niggers cut around the corner and shoot down the street
Niggers shoot sharp glances at white women
Niggers shoot dope into their arm

Niggers shoot guns and rifles on New Year's Eve
A new year that is coming in
The white police will do more shooting at them
Where are niggers when the revolution needs some shots!?
Yeah, you know. Niggers are somewhere shootin' the shit
Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are lovers, niggers are lovers are lovers
Niggers love to see Clark Gable
Make love to Marilyn Monroe
Niggers love to see Tarzan fuck all the natives
Niggers love to hear the Lone Ranger yell "Heigh Ho Silver!"

Niggers love commercials, niggers love commercials
Oh how niggers love commercials:
"You can take niggers out of the country, but
You can't take the country out of niggers"

Niggers are lovers, are lovers, are lovers
Niggers loved to hear Malcolm rap
But they didn't love Malcolm
Niggers love everything but themselves

But I'm a lover too, yes I'm a lover too
I love niggers, I love niggers, I love niggers

Because niggers are me
And I should only love that which is me
I love to see niggers go through changes
Love to see niggers act
Love to see niggers make them plays and shoot the shit

But there is one thing about niggers I do not love
Niggers are scared of revolution

The Last Poets, Umar Bin Hassan

Il est temps, jusqu'au 24/08, d'aller traîner ses guêtres du côté de la Cité de la musique où se tient une exposition "Great Black Music". Et là aussi.

jeudi 7 mars 2013

Stéphane Hessel

est mort (aussi)

lire la suite

dimanche 17 février 2013

Alain Desrosières

est mort

mercredi 12 octobre 2011

OCCUPY TOGETHER

(# Is that now ?)

Watch live streaming video from globalrevolution at livestream.com

Pour ceux que cela intéresse, vous avez sans doute remarqué que le printemps arabe se transforme en été amérindien et que s'étendent les occupations partout dans le monde. A l'heure d'internet, passée de plus d'un quart d'heure, l'esperanto n'a pas remplacé les langues mais la mobilisation s'étend pour les mêmes préoccupations : précarité, pauvreté, santé, éducation, endettement des personnes, des Etats et contre la même réponse des institutions (FMI, Banque mondiales, Banques centrales...) : l'austerité (:ÉCON. POL. Politique visant à restreindre la consommation par divers moyens, comme la restriction du crédit, l'aggravation fiscale, etc.). Tout cela au détriment de la planète, au prix de désastres écologiques dont nous ne pouvons même plus assurer la comptabilité tellement ils sont nombreux et devenus communs. Alors plutôt que de parler de révolution, qui fait encore peur, l'indignation gagne du terrain auprès des 99% qui ne possèdent rien ou si peu. Depuis l'Amérique à Wall Street, ou de Paris ou d'ailleurs, l'époque est à la mobilisation pour créer une alternative à cette déroute humaine et culturelle, ça me rappelle la chute du mur mais cette fois le chemin n'est plus tracé, l'autre chemin est à découvrir horizontalement comme ils disent. Maintenant, c'est à vous !

lundi 31 janvier 2011

Ich bin ein Tunisian

L'année avait commencé sans cigarette. Mais le mal corrompt et depuis quelques semaines se fait jour la création d'un espace public peu habitué à éprouver sa situation.

Ich bin Tunisian aurait dit l'autre, au nom de la démocratie et des valeurs d'égalité qu'elle induit. La pensée peut s'exprimer au delà des limites qu'impose notre liberté d'aujourd'hui confinée entre garde à vous et garde à vue.

Cela reste une problématique d'état policier où la police règne mais pas la justice. Où la vigie anti-pirates qui s'exprime en 42 lois des faits d'hiver dure déjà depuis 1995. Un autre siècle. La liberté étouffée, garotée, serrée au kiki n'en peut plus. Elle se meurt, atrocement asphyxiée au nom de la sécurité qui n'est plus sociale.

La mort à vagin, interprétée par un baroudeur de l'âme et des mots, s'inscrit dans cette prise de position que donne la postérité et l'ouverture aux autres et à l'esprit.

Quand tu aimes il faut partir
Quitte ta femme quitte ton enfant
Quitte ton ami quitte ton amie
Quitte ton amante quitte ton amant
Quand tu aimes il faut partir

Le monde est plein de nègres et de négresses
Des femmes des hommes des hommes des femmes
Regarde les beaux magasins
Ce fiacre cet homme cette femme ce fiacre
Et toutes les belles marchandises

II y a l'air il y a le vent
Les montagnes l'eau le ciel la terre
Les enfants les animaux
Les plantes et le charbon de terre

Apprends à vendre à acheter à revendre
Donne prends donne prends

Quand tu aimes il faut savoir
Chanter courir manger boire
Siffler
Et apprendre à travailler

Quand tu aimes il faut partir
Ne larmoie pas en souriant
Ne te niche pas entre deux seins
Respire marche pars va-t'en

Je prends mon bain et je regarde
Je vois la bouche que je connais
La main la jambe l'œil
Je prends mon bain et je regarde

Le monde entier est toujours là
La vie pleine de choses surprenantes
Je sors de la pharmacie
Je descends juste de la bascule
Je pèse mes 80 kilos
Je t'aime

Blaise Cendrars, Feuilles de route, 1924

Personne n'est obligé d'être d'accord, yaka juste trouver le con sans sus. Free Tax. Money makes the world go round.

dimanche 18 avril 2010

The sky is blue

Plus d'avions dans le ciel... en dehors d'une belle pagaille, il reste que le ciel est devenu plus bleu sans toutes les zébrures qu'à l'habitude les avions tracent. Sans évoquer le silence, mais est-ce un leurre, qui repose les oreilles.

Le peakoil atteint du jour au lendemain grâce à la ferveur tellurique du volcan islandais Eyjafjöll, et cela pourrait durer des semaines... sans bruit et sans traces dans le ciel...

dimanche 4 octobre 2009

Astropolis_2009 :)

dimanche 5 juillet 2009

Motorpsycho Nightmare

I pounded on a farmhouse
Lookin' for a place to stay.
I was mighty, mighty tired,
I had gone a long, long way.
I said, "Hey, hey, in there,
Is there anybody home?"
I was standin' on the steps
Feelin' most alone.
Well, out comes a farmer,
He must have thought that I was nuts.
He immediately looked at me
And stuck a gun into my guts.

I fell down
To my bended knees,
Saying, "I dig farmers,
Don't shoot me, please!"
He cocked his rifle
And began to shout,
"You're that travelin' salesman
That I have heard about."
I said, "No! No! No!
I'm a doctor and it's true,
I'm a clean-cut kid
And I been to college, too."

Then in comes his daughter
Whose name was Rita.
She looked like she stepped out of
La Dolce Vita.
I immediately tried to cool it
With her dad,
And told him what a
Nice, pretty farm he had.
He said, "What do doctors
Know about farms, pray tell?"
I said, "I was born
At the bottom of a wishing well."

Well, by the dirt 'neath my nails
I guess he knew I wouldn't lie.
He said "I guess you're tired,"
He said, kinda sly.
I said, "Yes, ten thousand miles
Today I drove."
He said, "I got a bed for you
Underneath the stove.
Just one condition
You can go to sleep right now,
That you don't touch my daughter
And in the morning, milk the cow."

I was sleepin' like a rat
When I heard something jerkin'.
There stood Rita
Lookin' just like Tony Perkins.
She said, "Would you like to take a shower?
I'll show you up to the door."
I said, "Oh, no! no!
I've been through this movie before."
I knew I had to split
But I didn't know how,
When she said,
"Would you like to take that shower, now?"

Well, I couldn't leave
Unless the old man chased me out,
'Cause I'd already promised
That I'd milk his cows.
I had to say something
To strike him very weird,
So I yelled out,
"I like Fidel Castro and his beard."
Rita looked offended
But she got out of the way,
As he came charging down the stairs
Sayin', "What's that I heard you say?"

I said, "I like Fidel Castro,
I think you heard me right,"
And ducked as he swung
At me with all his might.
Rita mumbled something
'Bout her mother on the hill,
As his fist hit the icebox,
He said he's going to kill me
If I don't get out the door
In two seconds flat,
"You unpatriotic,
Rotten doctor Commie rat."

Well, he threw a Reader's Digest
At my head and I did run,
I did a somersault
As I seen him get his gun
And crashed through the window
At a hundred miles an hour,
And landed fully blast
In his garden flowers.
Rita said, "Come back!"
As he started to load
The sun was comin' up
And I was runnin' down the road.

Well, I don't figure I'll be back
There for a spell,
Even though Rita moved away
And got a job in a motel.
He still waits for me,
Constant, on the sly.
He wants to turn me in
To the F.B.I.
Me, I romp and stomp,
Thankful as I romp,
Without freedom of speech,
I might be in the swamp.

Copyright ©1964; renewed 1992 Special Rider Music copie ratée ©2009


Découvrez Bob Dylan!

mercredi 13 mai 2009

Le 13 mai leur a pas suffit

Ils viennent nous chercher ici, et et encore .

samedi 4 avril 2009

Mido