Dear History,

[Saul]

http://obeygiant.com/voteforchange/saul-williams/

[Leo]

I want to hear more about climbing pyramids in Guatemala!

As a Brit it is always pretty incredible to watch your elections unfold. There is a bravado and theatrical approach that simply doesn't exist here. English politics is a world away and our electorate seem to take gratitude in presenting the most uninspiring and hypocritical candidates in order to deter people from wanting engage in democracy. Our Parliament often seems to consist of nothing more than a load of private school boys shouting insults at each other in a grand chamber.

To see Obama as a likely winner of this race fills me with hope and excitement. For the first time I feel and I hope that there is a man who holds his ethics and compassion higher than economic gain and superpowerposing.

To see the backlash to Obama is also frightening, to see the hatred and the bigotry that exists in the polarized America that Bush and regressive political thought has helped create. I recall being in Florida in 2003 before the Iraq war broke out, hearing the things they were saying about Iraq on country radio stations and the way that the hosts spoke about people with anti-war sentiments.I fealt genuinely frightened for the way America was headed.

America is a great nation and whenever I have found myself on its shores I have always fealt welcomed (after I get through the customs & immigration) Like many people from accross the world I fell in love with America at a young age; romanced by its movies, its music, its people and their curvaceous voices. I was raised on America; mcDonalds and BB king, Indiana Jones and the moral code of Disney animation. America deserves a leader that reflects the true nature of its people.

I just wish that I could vote!

"America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?"-Allen Ginsberg



ps if he doesn't get in, you all have to take to the streets!

[Saul]

Dear Histo​ry,​
For too long have I ponde​red your meani​ng,​ memor​ized dates​ of battl​es,​ years​ of servi​tude,​ decad​es of injus​tice,​ named​ eras after​ movem​ents,​ mourn​ed the extin​ction​ of speci​es,​ curse​d found​ing fathe​rs,​ worn vinta​ge suits​ and cloak​ed mysel​f with refer​ences​ of your hold on me.

I have walke​d throu​gh museu​ms wonde​ring how it is that great​ness had lived​ and died all befor​e my time.​ Parts​ of me feare​d becom​ing great​ becau​se it seeme​d to inclu​de a price​ of death​ and a postm​ortem​ glory​ that my memor​y could​ never​ resur​rect.​ I've stare​d at paint​ings dying​ to catch​ glimp​ses of the paint​er,​ close​d my eyes to liste​n to songs​ that drunk​en ghost​s dance​ to, and all the while​ I've fough​t to FREE the prese​nt to BECOM​E.​

In 1995,​ I stood​ with poets​ in the middl​e of the Brook​lyn Bridg​e,​ barki​ng metap​hors at the new moon of the summe​r solst​ice wedgi​ng words​ into it's crate​rs,​ sewin​g seeds​ throu​gh night​ly wind.​

In 1996,​ I force​d the ocean​ back with words​,​ fathe​red plane​ts,​ climb​ed pyram​ids,​ and began​ to decip​her the siren​s song to conju​re the dream​-​fille​d Child​ren of the Night​.​

In 1997,​ I stood​ with priso​ners in our natio​ns capit​ol bendi​ng bars with the power​ of thoug​ht as words​miths​ serve​d sente​nces and Hip Hop diddy​-​dandi​fied itsel​f:​ steal​ing golde​n calve​s from the Old Testa​ment to smugg​le into the lavis​h crib of Ponti​us Pilat​e for it's birth​day party​

In 1998,​ I swall​owed fear and sun-​dance​d on film reels​,​ proje​cting​ a me that had not been into a me that ever shall​ be.

And HERE I stand​,​ ten years​ the diffe​rence​ and witne​ss to chang​ing hands​.​

Dear Histo​ry,​
I beat you. I stand​ a gener​ator of gener​ation​s beari​ng witne​ss to a world​ that we are holdi​ng accou​ntabl​e for past actio​ns.​ Me and my frien​ds,​ we'​re chang​ing our diets​,​ re-​inven​ting marri​age,​ check​-​matin​g capit​alism​,​ re-​defin​ing ethic​s,​ repla​cing cruel​ty with compa​ssion​,​ and have sworn​ not to re-​elect​ the sins of the fathe​r.​

We are casti​ng our votes​ for so much more than a lesse​r of evils​,​ but for chang​e,​ and great​er insig​ht,​ for wisdo​m out of the mouth​s of babes​,​ for races​ that bleed​ into ONE.

Dear Histo​ry,​
You are behin​d us and we are no longe​r looki​ng back.​ We are stand​ing on the thres​hold of new times​,​ new days,​ new world​s,​ and charg​ing forwa​rd witho​ut battl​e cry or trump​et,​ while​ cynic​ism,​ apath​y,​ and cowar​dice take their​ place​ besid​e you, behin​d us.

Dear Histo​ry,​
We no longe​r belie​ve in you. We have inves​ted our our thoug​hts and dream​s into the prese​nt momen​t and oppor​tunit​y to shift​ our reali​ty into one that does not resem​ble your dog-​eared​ books​.​

We stand​ on the shoul​ders of those​ who have dared​ to dream​ and on the necks​ of those​ who have waste​d their​ time and ours procl​aimin​g a past past its prime​.​

Dear Histo​ry,​
Blitz​!​ It's my turn now. You can have your mound​s of flesh​,​ leath​er boots​,​ canno​ns and saber​s,​ noose​s and guill​otine​s,​ warsh​ips and fight​er plane​s,​ trail​s of tears​ and blood​,​ genoc​ides,​ dunge​ons and drago​ns,​ ghost​ stori​es and fairy​ tales​.​.​.​.​.​.​.​.​.​.​

[PeacePantherG]

Saul.. very passionately stated, your guts seeped right thru...

All in favor of CHANGE .. "throw your hands up"


Dear History,

you've made a mockery of my name, pushed the face of migrant workers in the dirt, built walls, shot a few shells, you've perpetuated stereotypes & schemes via the idiot box for generations, you thought I'd buy into tha "ism" of your "scism", some say love it or leave it alone, some say if you are unamerican, than "Shut Yo Mouth", but I say I am an American,an all American, a flag waving, go tell it on the mountain, shout it out LOUD American... and because I am American, I am screaming from tha top of tha Malls, to the crevice of the gutter, I am screaming .... "I WANT CHANGE" and I WANT CHANGE because I am an AMERICAN &

AMERICA NEEDS CHANGE!!!!!!!!!

[tzvi]

two exerpts from preperation for the longest reach
I

in that moment, that the skin of the boundless sea
where nebuli are the first tears of life:
each mind is the poet, a generator.
his blood, her blood, my blood, like all blood
is the long reach of generations,
words like all words reaching into the generation of next generation.

in each moment a stick twists around inside a jar
gathering golden honey
the honey clings and falls away
drips and folds, creases and bubbles.
reaching deep inside my breath,
i prey to gather sticky hairs of light.

the blood the honey the breath the wind
dances, the generations dance, letting loose howls
of adoration, and suffering, oh for the true sun a song, a song!
singing through intermediaries like thorned honey bees
who prick the blushing cheek, the blush of being
the jar the stick the honey
but not seeing it is the jar the stick the honey.

the bubble in the fold in the moment sing
for the honey the breath the wind,
the generation of each generation is the preperation for the longest reach
and so the blood must speak:

--

XIII
and they, the generation,
lifted up their feet, and caried with them
the stone pillers their pillows had become
weighed with the anointment;
honey of their dreams,

that the blood, and the breath
that the stones would be wings
that tomarow flies.

that angels would be pomegranite kisses
that each seed would grow a knowledge tree
that kisses are watered by underground rivers deep in
that the roots of this generation
is the preperation for the longest reach.

and that they the generation
lifted up their feet, like bouncing giants
who feel the weight of the generation of next generation
that they may cut the stone time
with a quilting needle,

that each generation caries these weights
that each poet, utters their story
that stones where weightless
bones of birds,
that kingdoms where built in a word.

that this generation, each generation
is the longest reach
that for the blood, the honey, the breath, the wind
we will lift up our feet.


---
and so along with saul williams i must besiech ya
vote on the fourth for obama
of course.
-----

saul you never stop making want to grow and get involved.

[spacecake77]

I just posted something on the Politics board before I read this that mad eme feel really glum. Reading this...it lays waste to many of my doubts and fears and I feel ready to face the challenge of the awakening that we face every day again.

Thanks Saul

[solarlion]

DEAR HIS STORY
I am not impressed by all the manliness you purport to flex. As if death, sadness and regret were virtues to extol right, center, and left behind so many dreams unfulfilled... so many loves lost. For what?

For what do you stand after so much grand-standing in the pages of hardcover Scholastic? For what are you proud as you sit behind glass and crumble into the dust that is your past?

Our death is certain. This I know. But I won't go with anything less than a ROAR... in a blaze of lion mane aflame knowing that good deed wrought is the only shadow I need in the pages of history my children read. They too will bleed while I seethe at the thought that more suffering there be for all these I love.

You see this is about WE and the planting of SEEDS for eternity by a noble celestial FAMILY. This about never ceasing to believe that suffering will cease its circular seesaw of birth and death through moments like these seized in the name of FREEDOM. Yes, BELIEVE. Change is all that we need.

The beauty of infinite possibility, we the CAUSE.

DEAR HIS STORY ... The Yin is coming to balance the wack Yang gansta shit you been slinging since Rome and beyond. Our hearts are soft but our voice is STRONG and it won't be long before this SONG will be heard by millions ... the flames of our heart open and held aloft by a lone finger outstretched: One.

We praise the sun under which the soft river runs, wearing down granite rivulet by rivulet.

We will run until all are free. You best Believe ... working for freedom for eternity is the truth we spit so yes History you best know legit and respect the presence we project as we sit astride that glorified ride of haloed light and pure intent.

DEAR HIS STORY

Our time is now.

[snoogans24]

Dear History,
Hopefully, when you receive this message, the message will already be heard far and wide - and we won't have to resort to such intimacy. I would say it's upsetting to part ways, but I was always one for truth. I guess that's why we don't belong together anymore. I'll always remember you. History, I've always wanted to ask, can you look back onto yourself? You used to always say to me, "Live now, pay later". I'll admit, it yielded a youth unseen by eve'n you. But now memory's missus is going to be hard to miss. Herstory is coming into play. She silently screws you as you did her. Whispering sweet nothings about death and desire. They always were inseparable. Surely you knew it had to come to an end (beginning). It was only a matter of time. It was so hard to make you do anything. If there was ever a time to make you, history, it's today.

Nature has run its course (rape), man-made machines or machine-made men have run their course (obedience), and the children of the World are running out of sidewalk. Listen, you've rewritten yourself so many times. The kids don't swallow lies like they used to. Used too many times. Used us to light your fuse. I shun the fiction you facilitate. Delusions of difficulty to forget you; our blood-stained hands of your secret wars. I must turn my back on you, as you are known to do. You're an old, frail, petty little... I know you may have a terrible case of alzheimers, but try not to repeat yourself in your reply.
Yours Never Again,
Mark

[shonkey]

Dear History your ending, because the dominator culture has led the human species into a blind alley. And as the inevitable chaostrophe approaches, people look for metaphors and answers. Every time a culture gets into trouble, it casts itself back into the past looking for the last sane moment it ever knew. And the last sane moment we ever knew was on the plains of Africa, 15,000 years ago, rocked in cradle of the great horned mushroom goddess before history. Before standing armies, before slavery and property, before warfare and phonetic alphabets and monotheism. Before, before, before. And this is where the future is taking us. Because the secret faith of the 20th century is not modernism. The secret faith of the 20th century is nostalgia for the archaic, nostalgia for the Paleolithic, and that gives us body piercing, abstract expressionism, surrealism, jazz, rock and roll, and Catastrophe Theory. The 20th century mind is nostalgic for the paradise that once existed on the mushroom-dotted plains of Africa, where the plant-human symbiosis occurred that pulled us out of the animal body and into the tool-using, culture-making, imagination-exploring creature that we are.

And why does this matter? It matters because it chose that the way out is back, and that the future is a forward escape into the past. This is what the psychedelic experience means. Its a doorway out of history and into the wiring under the board in eternity. And I tell you this because if the community understands what it is that holds it together, the community will be better able to streamline itself for flight into hyperspace. Because what we need is a new myth. What we need is a new true story that tells us where were going in the universe. And that true story is that the ego is a product of pathology and that when psilocybin is regularly part of the human experience, the ego is suppressed. And the suppression of the ego means the defeat of the dominators, the materialists, the product peddlers. Psychedelics return us to the inner worth of the self, to the importance of feeling immediate experience. And nobody can sell that to you and nobody can buy it from you, so the dominator culture is not interested in the felt presence of immediate experience. But thats what holds the community together. And as we break out of the silly myths of science and the infantile obsessions of the marketplace, what we discover through the psychedelic experience is that in the body-- in the body-- there are Niagara of beauty, alien beauty, alien dimensions that are part of the self, the richest part of life.

I think of going to the grave without having a psychedelic experience, like going to the grave without having sex. It means that you never figured out what it was all about. The mystery is in the body, and the way the body works itself into nature. What the archaic revival means is shamanism, ecstasy, orgiastic sexuality, and the defeat of the three enemies of the people, and the three enemies of the people are hegemony, monogamy, and monotony. And if you get them on the run, you have the dominators sweating, folks. Because that means that youre getting it all reconnected, and get it all reconnected means putting aside the idea of separateness and self-definition through thing fetish. Getting it all connected means tapping into the Gaian mind. And the Gaian mind is what were calling the psychedelic experience. Its an experience of the living fact of the entelechy of the planet, and without that experience we wander in a desert of bogus ideologies, but with that experience, the compass of the self can be set. And thats the idea, that were figuring out how to reset the compass of the self, through community, through ecstatic dance, through psychedelics, intelligence-- intelligence... this is what we have to have to make the forward escape into hyperspace.

[troia]

Dear History,
We write to you now in verse, not prose,
Exhausted quite from your endless trials,
Weary of those who wrote you thus far,
And yearning for the future around the bend.

Because at present power belongs to those,
Who issued us promises and then endless denials,
Who lulled us to sleep and dimmed our star,
Asking for our blood and our sweat without end.

Dear History,
We say 'Enough!', and the movement grows,
You will see us briskly walking by your aisles,
We march now toward healing our collective scar,
With hope in our breast and our rights to defend.

That we waited too long your truth to expose,
Shall no longer hold us in the web of your guile,
Instead, we are leaving that door of hope ajar,
Demanding once more that you shall be our friend.