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Alabama seniors all across the Third Congressional District continue facing high drug costs.

quote by Mike Rogers
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Perfect Drug

The perfect drug
I got my head, but my head is unraveling
Cant keep control, cant keep track of where its traveling
I got my heart but my heart is no good
And youre the only one thats understood
I come along but I dont know where youre taking me
I shouldnt go but youre reaching back and shaking me
Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
The more I give to you, the more I die
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You make me hard, when Im all soft inside
I see the truth, when Im all stupid eyed
The arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart
My blood wants to say hello to you
My feelings want to get inside of you
My soul is so afraid to realize
Every little word is a lack of me
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
(whispering)
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the drug, the perfect drug
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
(continues in backround)
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces

song performed by Nine Inch Nails
Added by Lucian Velea
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball

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poem by Caasder Fronds
Added by Poetry Lover
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Alabama Getaway

32 teeth in a jawbone, alabama trying for none,
Before I have to hit him, I hope hes got the sense to run.
Reason the poor girls love him, promise them everything,
Why they all believe him? he wears a big diamond ring.
Alabama getaway, getaway. alabama getaway, getaway,
Only way to please me, ya just gotta leave and walk away.
Major domo billy bojangles, sit down and have a drink with me,
Whats this about alabama? it keeps a coming back to me.
Heard your plea in the courthouse, witness box began to rock and rise,
49 sister states all had alabama in there eyes.
Alabama getaway, getaway. alabama getaway, getaway,
Only way to please me, ya just gotta leave and walk away.
Major said why dont we give him rope enough to hang himself?
No need to worry the jury, this kind takes care of themselves.
23rd psalm major domo, reserve me a table for three,
Down in the valley of the shadow, just you, alabama, and me.
Alabama getaway, getaway. alabama getaway, getaway,
Only way to please me, ya just gotta leave and walk away.

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tennesse Jed

Thirty two teeth in a jawbone
Alabama cryin for none
Before I have to hit him
I hope he's got the sense to run
Reason those poor girls love him
Promise them anything
Reason they believe him
He wears a big diamond ring
Alabama getaway
Alabama getaway
Only way to please me
Turn around and leave
and walk away
Majordomo Billy Bojangles
Sit down and have a drink with me
What's this about Alabame
Keeps comin back to me?
Heard your plea in the courthouse
Jurybox began to rock and rise
Forty-nine sister states all had
Alabama in their eyes
Alabama getaway
Alabama getaway
Only way to please me
Turn around and leave
and walk away
Why don't we just give Alabama
rope enough to hang himself?
Ain't no call to worry the jury
His kind takes care of itself
Twenty-third Psalm Majordomo
reserve me a table for three
in the Valley of the Shadow
just you, Alabama and me
Alabama getaway
Alabama getaway
Only way to please me
turn around and leave
and walk away

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Is The Drug

Taint no big thing,
To wait for the bell to ring,
Taint no big thing,
The toll of the bell,
Aggravated - spare for days,
Stroll downtown the red light place,
Jump up bubble up - whats in store,
Love is the drug and I need to score,
Showing out, showing out, hit and run,
Boy meets girl and the beat goes on,
Stitched up tight, cant shake free,
Love is the drug, got a hook on me,
Oh oh catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
Yeah, cant you see?
Love is the drug for me,
Taint no big thing,
To wait for the bell to ring,
Taint no big thing,
The toll of the bell,
Late that night I park my car,
Stake my place in the singles bar,
Face to face, toe to toe,
Heart to heart as we hit the floor,
Lumber up, limbo down,
The locked embrace, the stumble round,
I say go, he say yes,
Dim the lights, you can guess the rest,
Yeah, catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
Yeah, cant you see?
Love is the drug for me,
Taint no big thing,
To wait for the bell to ring,
Aint no big thing,
The toll of the bell,
Aggravated - spare for days,
Stroll downtown the red light place,
Jump up bubble up - whats in store,
Love is the drug and I need to score,
Showing out, showing out, hit and run,
Boy meets girl and the beat goes on,
Stitched up tight, cant shake free,
Love is the drug, got a hook on me,
Oh oh catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
Oh oh, cant you see?
Love is the drug for me,
Yeah, catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,

[...] Read more

song performed by Grace Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Drug

(lebon, rhodes, taylor)
Take me in the morning
Take me every night
Take me when youre feeling low
Take me when you want to stay
Take me,
Take me, take me, take me, take me
Take, take, take, take.
Before you slide into the wide
Theres something I want you to know
(what you see is what you want)
In all your stretch of conciousness
Youve still got a long way to go
(what you want its what you need)
Some make you spin,
Some make you sweat,
Its only here for you to choose (choose me)
And if you try, an alternative high
Then tell me what have you got to loose now..
Take me every morning
Take me every night
Take me when youre feeling low
Take me when you want to stay - up all night
Up all night
The hit, the hit
The hit to fit reality,
Its just a state of mind
(what you see is what you want)
And youll admit its more than just an axe that youve got to grind
(what you want is what you need)
Well make a spin
Well make you sweat
All youve got to do is use me (use me)
Some like it hot
But I like it wet
So tell me what have we got to lose now..
(chorus)
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
(use me) (use me) (choose me) (choose me) (use me) (use me)
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
(chorus)
Take me every morning
Take me every night
Take me when youre feeling slow

[...] Read more

song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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Drug (It's Just A State Of Mind)

(lebon, rhodes, taylor)
Take me in the morning
Take me every night
Take me when you're feeling low
Take me when you want to stay
Take me,
Take me, take me, take me, take me
Take, take, take, take.
Before you slide into the wide
There's something i want you to know
(what you see is what you want)
In all your stretch of conciousness
You've still got a long way to go
(what you want its what you need)
Some make you spin,
Some make you sweat,
Its only here for you to choose (choose me)
And if you try, an alternative high
Then tell me what have you got to loose now..
Take me every morning
Take me every night
Take me when you're feeling low
Take me when you want to stay - up all night
Up all night
The hit, the hit
The hit to fit reality,
Its just a state of mind
(what you see is what you want)
And you'll admit its more than just an axe that you've got to grind
(what you want is what you need)
We'll make a spin
We'll make you sweat
All you've got to do is use me (use me)
Some like it hot
But i like it wet
So tell me what have we got to lose now..
(chorus)
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
(use me) (use me) (choose me) (choose me) (use me) (use me)
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
A drug, its a drug
(chorus)
Take me every morning
Take me every night
Take me when you're feeling slow

[...] Read more

song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Home Alabama

Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the Southland
I miss Alabamy once again
And I think its a sin, yes
Well I heard mister Young sing about her
Well, I heard ole Neil put her down
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
In Birmingham they love the gov' nor
Now we all did what we could do
Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Here I come Alabama
Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers
And they've been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when I'm feeling blue
Now how about you?
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Sweet home Alabama
Oh sweet home baby
Where the skies are so blue
And the guv'nor's true
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you

song performed by Jewel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Home Alabama

(ed king - ronnie vanzant - gary rossington)
Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the southland
I miss alabamy once again
And I think its a sin, yes
Well I heard mister young sing about her
Well, I heard ole neil put her down
Well, I hope neil young will remember
A southern man dont need him around anyhow
Sweet home alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet home alabama
Lord, Im coming home to you
In birmingham they love the governor
Now we all did what we could do
Now watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
Sweet home alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet home alabama
Lord, Im coming home to you
Here I come alabama
Now muscle shoals has got the swampers
And theyve been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when Im feeling blue
Now how about you?
Sweet home alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet home alabama
Lord, Im coming home to you
Sweet home alabama
Oh sweet home baby
Where the skies are so blue
And the governors true
Sweet home alabama
Lordy
Lord, Im coming home to you
Yea, yea montgomerys got the answer

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweeet Home Alabama

Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the Southland
I miss Alabamy once again
And I think its a sin, yes
Well I heard mister Young sing about her
Well, I heard ole Neil put her down
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
In Birmingham they love the governor
Now we all did what we could do
Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Here I come Alabama
Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers
And they've been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when I'm feeling blue
Now how about you?
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Sweet home Alabama
Oh sweet home baby
Where the skies are so blue
And the governor's true
Sweet Home Alabama
Lordy Lord, I'm coming home to you
Yea, yea Montgomery's got the answer

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Home Alabama

(ed king - ronnie vanzant - gary rossington)
Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the southland
I miss alabamy once again
And I think its a sin, yes
Well I heard mister young sing about her
Well, I heard ole neil put her down
Well, I hope neil young will remember
A southern man dont need him around anyhow
Sweet home alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet home alabama
Lord, Im coming home to you
In birmingham they love the governor
Now we all did what we could do
Now watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
Sweet home alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet home alabama
Lord, Im coming home to you
Here I come alabama
Now muscle shoals has got the swampers
And theyve been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when Im feeling blue
Now how about you?
Sweet home alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet home alabama
Lord, Im coming home to you
Sweet home alabama
Oh sweet home baby
Where the skies are so blue
And the governors true
Sweet home alabama
Lordy
Lord, Im coming home to you
Yea, yea montgomerys got the answer

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Alabama

Oh alabama
The devil fools with the best laid plan.
Swing low alabama
You got spare change
You got to feel strange
And now the moment is all that it meant.
Alabama, you got the weight on your shoulders
Thats breaking your back.
Your cadillac has got a wheel in the ditch
And a wheel on the track
Oh alabama
Banjos playing through the broken glass
Windows down in alabama.
See the old folks tied in white ropes
Hear the banjo.
Dont it take you down home?
Alabama, you got the weight on your shoulders
Thats breaking your back.
Your cadillac has got a wheel in the ditch
And a wheel on the track
Oh alabama.
Can I see you and shake your hand.
Make friends down in alabama.
Im from a new land
I come to you and see all this ruin
What are you doing alabama?
You got the rest of the union to help you along
Whats going wrong?

song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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poem by Caasder Fronds
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In Alabama

In Alabama

In Alabama
There’s red clay dirt
Those people pray
Not just on Sunday
In Alabama
There’s Nascar Racing at Talladega
In Alabama
The Crimson Tide play’s football outside
In Alabama
Lake Guntersville
It’s a thrill
Right there, Bass fishing
Is the best in the world
In Alabama
Near the Tennessee River
You’ll find Muscle Shull’s
Some great musician’s
In Alabama
We eat fried bologna
And sliced tomato sandwiches
We thank God for the meat
Between the bread in Alabama

poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Walked Last Night In A District I Lived In For Almost Twenty Years

I WALKED LAST NIGHT IN A DISTRICT I LIVED IN FOR ALMOST TWENTY YEARS

I walked last night in a district I lived in for almost twenty years
I came back after being away for a time
To visit an old and ailing friend
The streets were empty and lonely as they often were then-
I thought for the first time I understood how lonely the district itself is-
‘A lonely district’
I wondered how I managed to live there all those years
And how anyone still manages to live there-
I looked up at the sky and wrote in my mind a small poem of a kind I wrote many of in my years there
I remembered teachers and friends who had lived there
No longer of this district or any district on earth
I wondered how life goes and how from so many years so much life has been lived without having any place in my memory
I felt as empty inside as the district without
I did not have to wait long for the bus
And relieved inside it I put my heart to home
So many years had been lived there
I remembered taking my small children to the playground there
Now they thank G-d have children of their own
Oh the years go by and the life we have lived in them largely dies
Forever to be unknown again-
I put my heart and mind in a different direction
And began to do what I always do – not think of the district again
Life is this mystery and question we live through and never wholly possess even as we are experiencing it
How long before all will be gone for me
Including the district I live in now?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Added by Poetry Lover
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Chabi of the Okavango

Chabi Maenga bought me a chicken. It took two, three hours to cook in the big black pot and was still tough as our leather boots. A goodbye gift to me, upon my leaving the district, leaving the passenger seat by his side.

Chabi had met me in Gaborone with a newly-issued 1978 model Toyota, a boxy thing that bounced crazily on the dirt tracks but was considered state of the art at the time. We drove north until the paved road ran out, then north east across the remote reaches of the Northern Kalahari to my new duty station in Maun. We slept half-way at Serowe, at the 'we are working together' cooperative hotel, under thatch. On the second day we skirted two of the four long walls enclosing the richest diamond mine in the world and tracked the elongated fence that separated buffalo, endemic with foot-and-mouth disease, from cattle. We swung north once more as we reached the side of the 'vanishing lake', Ngami, that in some years confirmed its presence on the standard maps, and in others was simply no-where to be found. All depended on the rains in distant Angola.

Chabi and I shared that front cabin, on and off, for nearly three years. 'Call me Chabi.. like Chubby Checker' was how he introduced himself. He was early 50s, salt and pepper in his tight thin curls, and I was 24... supposedly the boss, the one who signed the requisition slips and the log book for each and every trip. But Chabi was very much in charge.

The first thing he taught me was the Tswana language. After three months by his side I was almost fluent - a status I had not remotely reached in my two years to that point in the capital city. I spoke with his northern dialect: 'f's pronounced as 'h's, 'tl's with a silent 'l'. This marked me as a man of the Okavango, the Ngami, for the rest of my days among the Tswana people. Later my wife of the southern Tswana, and her family, would tease me constantly about this northern country-bumpkin accent. But what did I care? It sounded good to me and I was proud enough simply to be rattling away in SeTwana, however rustic it might sound, and to know more or less what others were rattling. In reciprocation, I helped Chabi with his English, when he was in the mood for it.

The second thing he taught was how to shoot guinea-fowl. He did this mainly by intimidation. Since he was putting in all the hours of driving - not only did I have no licence, but he was the designated official (although I did break the central transport rules more than once when his arthritis was playing up) - and it was me who had better take care of the supper. He would slow the truck to a crawl and I would open the window as we came across a gaggle of birds on the left hand side, gesture for me to pick up his shotgun and cue me... 'ema.... ema.... jaaanu! '. And if I aimed for the centre of the crowd, and kept the gun fairly straight, we would be sure to get a couple of birds for the pot. These we would take to the local primary school and have any available hungry teachers take care of the cooking and share in the meal. This required some concentration to avoid biting down on buckshot.

But the best times we had were on the road to Shakawe. He was delighted, first of all, when I nicknamed the village at the end of the Delta, at the remote northern border, as 'Shake-a-way'. He found this unnecessarily hilarious and I backed it up with a cassette recording of the South African multi-racial band Juluka's song, 'Shake My Way'. In fact we played very little but the first few Juluka albums on my portable cassette player during those trips.

We loaded up the back of the truck with the necessary items: my metal trunk, bought from the Mazezuru (the impoverished itinerant white-clothed Jehova's Witnesses expelled from Rhodesia-Zimbabwe - as it was at the time of my purchase, temporarily - who lived by tinsmithery, also beating out conical tin tops for rondavels) , and filled with a few changes of clothes, a couple of books and plenty of 'tinned stuff', cheap imported meals such as chicken biriyani. On top of the trunk went Chabi's battered suitcase. And then the two most essential items, side by side: a barrel of drinking water, a barrel of fuel. And a prayer that the last of these should not leak or spill over anything else, along those bumpy roads.

If it was winter, it was plain sailing. The dirt roads were dry and firm and we could make it to Shakawe in a day. We would circumnavigate most of the villages along the way:

.... Sehitwa, within sight of the vanishing lake if it had not vanished, Sehitwa where an Irishman started a little fishing industry singlehanded, selling frozen bream fillets all the way down to Johannesburg, supplying my monthly 'Fishko' party... until the Lake dried up...

... Nokaneng, meaning 'by the river', but it was a river that had long disappeared with the gradual drying of the swamps that fed it;

... Tsau, a camp for road building, which had created about 20 kilometres of Norwegian-funded tarmacadam in about five years, supposedly an experiment in desert blacktop that in fact linked nothing to nothing;

.... Gomare, the district's secondary centre, with its massive 'community' school, of which I was a board member, where the board had spent years painstakingly rounding up a few cattle and bags of sorghum to finance the first classroom. These efforts had been completely bypassed by the arrival of the World Bank with nearly a million dollars, more of which appeared to be spent on highly artistic walkways than on the new classrooms;

... Etsha, a new village settled by several thousand long-term refugees from the Angolan civil war who turned out to be impressive growers of grain, unique basket designers and weavers and secret brewers of palm beer (to search for which, Chabi would occasionally take us by alternative backroads) , by a handful of Danish medical students, and by one Welshman with scores of cats who marketed the baskets to tourists and the national museum;

... Sepopa... oh, what to say about Sepopa, a village like any small and remote African village;

... and then finally, Shakawe, a busy trading post hard up by the Angolan border, with a local culture, chiefdom and opposition political party all its own.

The trip was easy between dawn and dusk, in the cold dry season. In the summertime, however, a different question entirely. With the road camp at Tsau concentrating on its lonely piece of blacktop in the middle of nowhere, the rains and the traffic - such as they were, and they were always sufficient for this at least - churned up the rest of the district roads unmercifully. There were patches of known notoriety where we were almost sure to get stuck, and no way, due to thick bush linings along the track, to avoid them. Chabi, fortunately, was a past master at laying wooden planks under the wheels and using the 4-wheel drive to get us out...eventually. The journey took two days. The floors of classrooms in Gomare, Etsha or Sepopa became our beds.

The journey took us along the outer rim of the river channels that flanked the vast inland swamp called Okavango. And it was at Shakawe that the settled population enjoyed a true and vivid view of the river, there at the ingress, the inflow which fed the intricate waterways of the swamp, the high-banked and spectacular panhandle. Shakawe perched above those fast-flowing, pure, clear waters, which over the years had slowly diminished in flow for reasons no-one seemed to fully understand. It was often the place where we started our weeklong series of Kgotla meetings, village assemblies chaired by the Chief, and addressed by the young English district officer on the subject of the latest local government plans for the area, speaking a nervous mixture of Setswana and English (Chabi or a local agricultural officer providing translation) . This was normally followed by several hours of grandstand speeches by the assembled males, rising one by one from their wood-and-leather chairs to comment on what they thought I had proposed. The meeting - perfect for total-immersion SeTswana training for the young DO - were finished off, sometimes, by an invitation from the Chief to the women, sitting on the outer margins of the throng, often with babies, to speak their minds at last.

Through many such assemblies, the oddity of my presence was remarked upon only once, by a slightly intoxicated monnamogolo (respected old man) , who approached the table at which the Chief and I sat, and called out loudly, I never thought I would see the little lady (being Queen Elizabeth, or her representative) at this Kgotla once again!

Once at Shakawe, there were three options for continuing our journey. To work our way back down the side of the Okavango, holding meetings in two villages each day, taking about a week to return to the district office and our homes in Maun. Or to head off west to visit the few remote villages - Shai-Shai, Nau-Nau, Kangwa - founded by Herero cattleowners, their wives clad in massive layers of German-inspired skirts, and their San (Bushman) herders, near the Namibian border, across which lay a land still heavily occupied by the apartheid army. Or, the most magical and exciting option of all, to drive onto the little ferry ('pontoon') and cross to the remote eastern bank of the panhandle, and drive down to the three villages that lay there, on roads that barely deserved the name. Only one trading store with the most basic items could be found in that territory, and no supplies of fuel at all. Once a month, a Baptist dentist arrived in his light plane to preach to the people, distribute Bibles, and then, only then, extract teeth. If you were stranded, and spoke politely, he might stand you a lift back home.

Snakes became caught under our wheels sometimes. Ostriches would run alongside, trying to outpace us, then following the trail in front of us. And once an elephant suddenly stepped onto the trail from its hiding place behind a tree. Chabi brought us to a massive sudden halt, and we waited, waited silently.. until the creature went on its way.

In three years, he had only one accident, and that was on the tarmac on the way back from the trip to the capital. It was dark, approaching Francistown.. and a cow had gone to sleep on one side of the road. It was a minor collision, but the government censured him anyway, after much argumentation.

When we camped in the villages at night his radio took over from my cassette player. First the Botswana news. Then the solemn reading out of those who had passed away. Followed by church music. Just right to lull us both to sleep.

Perhaps the last thing Chabi tried to teach me concerned the wizards of the forest. When, during the long hours of travelling, he would start to talk as in an obsessive trance about the 'baloi', the spirits, he would gradually enter the world of 'deep Setswana', and his meanings became lost to me. The guttural sounds of the language would become a backdropp to the noise of the engine. My lack of ability to follow him into the tales of the wizards always seemed a disappointment to him, but he never gave up completely.

Mainly, while on the road together, he and I talked like father and son, cooked and ate together, and often slept alongside each other. When back in town, however, we did not socialize. We became formal in our work environment, 'district officer' and 'driver'. Chabi never came to hear me entertain the office crowd from the District Council with my guitar on Friday nights at Le Bistro cafe on the banks of the Thamalakane river. He never invited me to meet his family or to see his home. Which is what make it all the more surprising when he turned up at my place, during my last days in Maun, with that hardy three-year-old chicken. The first thing he did was invite me to wring its neck. And not for the first time with him, I ducked this challenge.

Zimbabwe was already free and its freedom would continue for a while. The wars of Angola raged on, fueled from distant lands, while the occupation of Namibia intensified. My place at Chabi's side was taken by a young Motswana graduate, and doubtless later by another. And then, as if by a miracle, generated by the pressure of resistance in the heart of South Africa, the dark clouds began to lift across the region, and the peace that lay at the heart of Botswana began to spread to all its troubled neighbours.

[...] Read more

poem by Frank Bana
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It's A Drug

It's a drug
My goodness, is it really?
Yes, it is.
Wow, I'm impressed.
It's got magical powers
Has it really?
What can it do?
It can turn you into a complete slave.
Really, how does it do that?
Well it's a drug.
Really, it's a drug.
Yes it is.
And it's got magical powers
It's very, very powerful
It's incredibly powerful
It has so much power
You wouldn't even believe all the power that it has
Try to imagine how much power this drug has
Can you imagine it?
I'm trying to.
It has turned people into absolute slaves
How does it do that?
Because it's a drug.
Oh I see, it's a drug
Wow, that's impressive. It's a drug
Yes, and drugs have lots of power
Once you start taking a drug you have to keep taking it
For how long?
Forever
Why?
Because it's a drug.
Drugs have lots of power
Wow do they?
Yes, lots and lots of power and once you start taking a drug you must continue
Why is that again?
Because it's a drug. It's very, very powerful
What if you don't believe in the power of the drug?
Then it has no power.

(Sydney, Australia - 2008)

poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Turning The Heat To Hotter

Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'

Everybody on the scene holla'd and screamed...
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'

Nobody came to this party knew somebody who sat.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sweet Home Alabama

(Original by Lynyrd Skynard)
Big wheels keep on turning carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the southland
I miss my family once again and I think it's a sin
Well I heard Mr. Young sing about her
Well I heard Ol' Neil put her down
Well I hope Neil Young will remember
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow
CHORUS:
Sweet home Alabama where the skies are so blue
Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm coming home to you
In Birmingham they love the governor boo-hoo-hoo
Now we all did what we could do
Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you tell me true
CHORUS:
Here I come Alabama
SOLO
Now Muscle Shoals has got the swampers, they've been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when I'm feelin' blue
Now how about you
CHORUS:
Sweet home Alabama where the skies are so blue oh sweet home
Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm coming home to you And the gov'nor's true
Sweet home Alabama where the skies are so blue oh yeah
Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm coming home to you yeah yeah

song performed by Counting Crows
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mississippi Kid

Ive got my pistols in my pockets boys,
Im alabama bound.
Ive got my pistols in my pockets boys, im
Im alabama bound.
Well, Im not looking for no trouble
But nobody dogs me round.
Well, Im going to fetch my woman, people
Tri-cities here I come.
Well, Im going to fetch my woman, people
Tri-cities here I come
cause she was raised up on that cornbread
And I know shes gonna give me some.
When the kid hits alabama, people
Dont you try and dog him round.
When the kid hits alabama, people
Dont you try and dog him round.
cause if you people cause me trouble,
Then Ive got to put you in the ground.
Well, I was born in mississippi
And I dont take any stuff from you
Well, I was born in mississippi
And I dont take any stuff from you
And if I hit you on your head
Boy, its got to make you black and blue.
Well, I ride to alabama
With my pistols out by my side
Well, I ride to alabama
With my pistols out by my side
cause down in alabama
You can run, but you sure cant hide

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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