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Posted: Thu 01/05/2012 10:55 AM
By Lamar Jorden
Bullets bask in barrel before booming
Students zooming towards exit run rampant like thoughts in my head
Any student not thought to be dead
Gets shot again
Students think "not again" as my tech shoots shades of Virginia
Within the mutual minds behind mines Blacksburg turns into DeKalb
Students scream aloud as rounds rip through the crowd
The scene is wild
But for once
I get to be center stage
Behind my blank look I'm in a rage
Tamed but in a cage I stand
Stance stiff as a statue starin' at chu
Shots and shotgun shells fly like pterodactyls
The scene is so thick
Which fits cuz I'm an outcast
But this is no "Player's Ball"
This is a scene of prayers, calls and screams
Anybody from teens to professors to football players crawl and I spray em all
Lay em all down in a timely fashion
As they're dashin' to safety I'm safely solid as a mannequin
Brandishin' 3 handguns and a shotgun
The world is goin’ crazy
The world is goin’ crazy I'm just a daily reminder
Scrutinize my autopsy you still won't find a spine to justify my acts
You run from my bullets but can't escape the fact that this goes back
This goes back to the 19th century in elementaries around the globe
St. Mary's Parochial School
Fools before me used shotguns to empty a class
Fast forward 36 years 1927
2nd to 6th graders were the targets
45 were martyred
58 more wounded at the hands of school board member Andrew Kehoe
Y'all upset at me though
This coward killed kids because his farm was being foreclosed
These were the same people chose to own slaves at the time
We’re all slaves in the mind
I swear the world is goin' crazy
The world is insane
School shootings are more overrated than Lil' Wayne
So tell his fans at Northern Illinois that I'm the shooter
Skin Thicke like Robin and matches in pigmentation
Tell his fans at Northern Illinois that I'm the shooter
Gunsmoke and sudden death make the atmosphere putrid
Today's Valentine's Day homie I wanna be Cupid
Slugs replace arrows
Icebox replaces heart that I can't seem to find
No one seems to mind that students show more school spirit when someone is dead
Who was Dan Parmenter before he bled Husky Red?
Shots to the head seemingly make you more popular
That has to be why most the shooters kill themselves
Resembling suicide bombers from countries we are brainwashed to think is a threat
We are fighting over oil
My blood boils at the realization that you can get killed for nothin’ in college
Just as easily as you can in a war or in jail
But we're still more concerned with weed sales and pushin' the whip
I guess this is what happens when a country is run by a Bush and a Dick
The world is beyond crazy
Why are we overseas when the real war is in front of us?
The real war is in the institutions that are supposed to build a better tomorrow
The sorrow is in the hearts of those who fall victim to those dimming bright futures
We fight foreigners when we are the ones who will shoot cha
This is a life in the day of a resentful shooter
This goes out to the victims at Northern Illinois
Columbine High School
University of Texas
The list goes on
Because guns don't kill people
We kill ourselves but
the world is going crazy
Crazy like myself
Crazy like the fact that if Bush cared for my mental health
Five innocent lives
Woulda been spared.
Posted: Thu 01/05/2012 10:48 AM
By Adam Gottlieb
This is the poem the blood in my hands has been waiting to write
since my last Yiddish-speaking grandparent died.
My dad says
when he was too little to see above a deli stand,
his dad would let him take a quarter from that day’s earnings
and let him make his way
through the stampede
of brown-eyed brownian motion
that was Jewish Maxwell Street.
He’d lift his arm to the invisible vendor,
the quarter would transform into a hot dog.
my dad’s people are receding north
as fast as his hairline.
Maxwell Street became Rogers Park,
Rogers Park became Devon,
became North Shore,
the North Shore.
And it seems to me
that this is the way we Jews have always lived –
always leaving our homes,
wandering through the world as if through deserts,
crossing from one place to another.
Even for all that Pesach prattle about the glory of freedom,
Jews are still among those
who cross the street from a dark face,
apparently honoring our ancestors
who escaped from Africans by walking the length of a sea.
And while my grandma struggled as an immigrant,
I think she at least was free,
a Jew who understood that in America
being Jewish is not as hard as being black,
that the two don’t even compare,
that the bible goes so far back
that they don’t even really have slavery in common,
just Maxwell Street.
And even if I never called my grandma bubbe,
I want to write this poem in the spirit of remembrance.
When I was on the SkoMor soccer team,
I was the only Jew,
the kids asked me if I picked pennies from the ground,
teased me about going to hell,
and I only wondered where all the Jews
who were supposed to be in Skokie actually were.
From Egypt to Israel,
from Israel to Russia,
from Russia to New York,
to Maxwell Street,
to Devon, to Skokie,
to wherever the hair on my dad’s head will go
by the time he is buried in the soil from the Mount of Olives,
I hope for these Hebrews who can’t seem to stay in one place
an exodus only from the same mistakes.
who never hated anyone unless they hated someone for no reason –
you were Maxwell Street,
your heart a place that anyone could call home –
where crossing the street meant saying hello, merhaba,
or Evanston chanting STEINMETZ!
or doing anything that brought you closer to someone else,
and all I wanted to ask you before you died
was how I could find God as clearly as you did,
so that I could be a prophet,
and bring your love to the chosen people,
deemed such by their meeting your standard
of having a heartbeat.
Posted: Tue 12/13/2011 11:35 AM
A Mic. A Stage. A Pen. A Page.
Louder Than A Bomb chronicles the stereotype-confounding stories of four teams as they prepare for and compete in the 2008 event. By turns hopeful and heartbreaking, the film captures the tempestuous lives of these unforgettable kids, exploring the ways writing shapes their world, and vice versa. This is not "high school poetry" as we often think of it. This is language as a joyful release, irrepressibly talented teenagers obsessed with making words dance. How and why they do it—and the community they create along the way—is the story at the heart of this inspiring film.
Louder Than a Bomb is honored to be the recipient of the 2011 Humanitas Prize for Documentaries. The Humanitas Prizes celebrate films and TV shows that are both entertaining and uplifting and reveal our common humanity.
This OWN Documentary Club film premieres Thursday, January 5, 9/8c.
Watch the Trailer!
Visit the Louder Than The Bomb Website!