13569: Anez14u: Any one know who this is? (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: Anez14u@aol.com

I kept this from the Corbett list postings a long time ago when we
priveledged members were few in number and seemed somehow less determined to
deal so harshly with each other.  I've read often, it has touched me deeply
if not so softly and even shared it occassionally.  I wonder if  Dotie Joseph
has other works to share and wish to know how to contact her.

From: Dotie Joseph

>You don't know me, never see me, walk right by me in daylight/plain
>sunlight/very bright I am out of sight in your eyes. Small haitian child,
>that is what I am And as for my hunger, you don't understand And just don't
>give a damn! At the airport, I beg for change ("changement" and money!) But
>you look at me and think it's funny... The american dream is a nightmare
>for me, And I, pre-zenglendo, am your social reality. At seven years old i
>begged for food, But you yelled at me, "i'm not in the mood!" Well tell me,
>when will be the time? When will you realize, my poverty is the crime That
>you all commit because you don't give a shit About my begging in the
>cathedral, Your conscience is in no way cerebral! When my sister was
>sixteen and had just grown breasts, Her period, her menstruation, an
>abomination she did detest... She had no kotex or tampons But was always
>surrounded by maggots and morons Who paid five or ten dollars for an
>overnight stay... She was the game they came to play; An object, but she
>had me and her child to feed Since at twelve years old a Soldier planted
>his seed Deep in her uninviting thighs And I could hear my siblings
>adolescent cries Of pain, as her life, her virginity was being torn
>Somewhere publicly secluded in Haitian fields of corn.
>
>Me? Now, I am 25, I rob and steal Because I have an addiction oh so real.
>Cocaine is my adoration And there IS no rehabilitation Centers in Port Au
>Prince or Aux Cayes, Just government verbal masturbation and lie after lie.
>Yes, I am 25 and what else do I do? I have become the beast that they call
>"zenglendo", Full of anger, full of rage, My mother is a blood drenched,
>tired, social cage! I rob, and steal and kill Cuz I know that you will Not
>help me or my evil zenglendo brothers and sisters, How will or can you ever
>clear away the blisters In my hand, my heart and my feet? Scars I carry in
>your Jacmel Carrefour street... When all of this is too much to bear Do you
>know what I eventually dare? I rob churches and rape nuns With machetes
>when I don't have guns But, if I have my 38, don't run, cuz it's already
>too late... I'm in your window, breaking your door, forcing your daughter
>to be my two Minute whore, I am NOT! myth, legend or mere folklore.
>
>I kill you all cuz I am high And because you had decided to rely On your
>government to stop violence and poverty While you ignored the infected,
>festering reality Of Cite' Soleil and La Saline Where God is not black or
>white, but actually green.
>
>I am your product, dear mr. and mrs. "la bourgeoisie" And you cannot escape
>me, physically or mentally. I am your prodigal son, deported at times back
>to your land, And the devil himself is my biggest fan... I am l'enfant
>prodige, so don't complain As I return to you some of my subconscious
>pain... There is no pot of gold at the end of my rainbow, just burning
>flames, Caused by your senators, your makoutes, your rich and all of their
>silly Financial/political games.
>
>Kill me now, and I will be replaced by three others, Kill me now, but do
>you know the number of brothers That I am giving birth to day and night,
>Holdin it down and keepin it tight? For a hundred dollars and one pill of
>ecstacy, I have people who will kill your whole family! Have you ever seen
>my signature style> When I have carte blanche by politicians and police to
>go buck wild? Make your father rape his daughter And your son rape his
>mother, cuz i'm high on coke, Zenglendo is for real, and it ain't no
>joke...
>
>I learned so much being locked up in sing sing and folsom, So nothing about
>me is pure or wholesome. If you comin off of that plane you better think
>twice, Cuz I ain't gonna ask you if you've been naughty or nice,
>
>Yes! I see you big willy style in my face on champs mars in your jeep, But
>you don't know that i know where you sleep... I will always be in the
>shadows of my private hell, And you can never hold me in a cell You can't
>kill me or run from my bullet... I told you before but you wouldn't belive
>it...
>
>Now i am here forever And death and destruction will be your only lover...
>Come back to Haiti...I'm waiting.
>
>Reality people in a fictitious poem... "He that is without sin, let him
>cast the first stone"


                                           VOCATVS
                                             ATQUE NON
                                             VOCATVS
                                            DEUS ADERIT
                                    Bidden or not bidden, God is present
                                                            Carl Jung

I greet you with love in His name
Tommy Eugene Shafer-Henderson
563-323-5068 <ANez14U@aol.com>
2034 West 5th Street
Davenport, Iowa 52802-1006
PS  Please visit the Hunger Site today and every day.
Every time you do you feed a few hungry people somewhere in the world.
<<A HREF="http://www.thehungersite.com";>">http://www.thehungersite.com></A>
It cost you nothing but a moment of your time, there are no strings attached
and BEING HUNGRY HURTS

The light is reached not by turning back from the darkness, but by going
through it. (Unknown)