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Showing posts with label Postcolonial maps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Postcolonial maps. Show all posts

Saturday, January 08, 2011

Sociogeopolitical Art Project [Today's News Poem, January 8 2011]

Sociogeopolitical Art Project [Today's News Poem, January 8 2011]

Start with some pencil, a blank sheet will do.
Draw just the measurement, draw it to scale.
Fill it with people, some animal parks.
Color a smile on the sun, on the cattle.
Don't like a city? Then crush it to rubble.
Sketch on your picture an 'x' for the blindness
Of death, draw a skull to denote what's been wasted
By bored rulers drawn to make scribbles in margins
On blank pages—forcing out options with image.

"Southern Sudan, on the eve of a historic referendum for independence from the north, faces a future with a fundamental difficulty: Finding southern Sudanese trained to run a fledgling country.
When Sudan's last civil war ended in 2005, the leaders of the southern rebellion against the north rewarded many of its soldiers with jobs in the south's ruling party. Now the south's finance ministry, on the verge of overseeing a budget for a new nation, has a surfeit of rebels-turned-bureaucrats who can barely read."
—SARAH CHILDRESS, The Wall Street Journal, JANUARY 8, 2011
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704739504576067790998188326.html

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Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Property Line [Today's News Sonnet, March 17, 2010]

Property Line [Today's News Sonnet, March 17, 2010]
“Armed groups who say they are fighting for a fairer share of oil wealth have also continued their campaign in the Niger Delta.”
--BBC, 19:09 GMT, Wednesday, 17 March 2010
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8573178.stm

The sacred things I've seen involve the dawn
Or twilight's calming rays. I've seen the moths
Of Fall emerge, en masse, the earthly spawn
Of secret cycles. Fog and wings—a broth
Of rebirth: swilled with coffee; morning news
Online. Before my work begins, I like
To note the zeal of life as I peruse
The news to see what makes the markets spike
Or plunge. So many things are on the line:
My stocks, developers, my boss. I work
Until the twilight's near. Beneath the pine
Outside, atop the fence, a heron lurks.
I think it's plastic. New. It turns its head
To me. I smile. It flaps and flees in dread.

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