wNaked News
In which my articles, poems and random thoughts will appear. See also my website at stewalbert.com


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wSaturday, March 22, 2003

Very Late At Night

Charlie Parker always began his set
at a point
where everyone else
peaked and split.
Mr. Charlie kept on driving us beyond,
passing unexplored universes
of wild possibility.
No one was ever there before.
Kind of eery.
He landed in great and frightening places.

We need Bebop magic
to beat Bush
at his game
of blood
weapons of mass murderous malevolence.
Hell in a computer

Millions marched with us
persuading and winning the world,
we deserved to win.
so did Al Gore.
But the cards are always marked,
and so are we.

Parker’s horn
can reverse the curse,
giving us strong souls
defeated visions
and not raising surrendering hapless hands
that just give up,
because the weapons dwarf utopian ambition.

Start up the music
oh peaceniks of Quixote
not Sousa this time
but Charlie’s new found land
of down to earth.
Kansas City home cooked jazz
and heavenly arrivals.
Birdland beating Bush.

posted by stew at 3:16 PM

wFriday, March 21, 2003


Dom, ended his speech proclaiming the old and golden Sixties slogan, “Power to the people.” And the people were about to demonstrate their power by shutting down or jamming up major sections of Portland. They were trying to punish Bush for invading Iraq and showing contempt for our planet’s noblest aspirations.

We started out in Terry Shrunk Plaza with a rally, maybe 2,000 were present. The high spirited solidarity that was obvious at the last Portland march continued to energize the protesters. And with drum like sounds most of the crowd, including many students who left school early, soon headed into the streets, marched around the Plaza several times and then headed into the downtown for some bold and creative disruption.

Those who remained in the Plaza continued with their speeches, networking and petition signing. They also expressed support for those who were pushing the city into purposeful chaos.

Both the rally and the march lacked a permit but as one speaker declared, “Bush doesn’t have a permit to make war!”

The marchers managed to stop traffic on two bridges and three Interstate highways, through a combination of putting their bodies on a line where cars couldn’t go and holding random sit-ins. The police did some pepper spraying, bean bag shooting and clubbing but were obviously under order to act with some restraint. The disrupters were quite aware that similar actions against the war were going on all over the world and that certainly added to their confrontational capacity.

Arrests were taking place but festivities of the people’s power, continued into the AM and were covered live and continuously by the local Fox affiliate. The “whole Oregon was watching.”

posted by stew at 7:53 AM

wThursday, March 20, 2003


Bombs fall
they start out by trying to kill the leaders
conclude by murdering a country.

Someone tries to hang a peace banner
over the Golden Gate Bridge,
falls off and drowns.

The UN and its dream of peace
is the first victim
of the wargasm,
When Dubya couldn’t get his way
he left like Mussolini strutting to a microphone
called them weak and unwilling.

All the visionaries are ordered to have their eyes burned blind
by red alert
now we are warned that bombs must rule.

Foolish George
doesn’t know that our consent
can’t be bought by poppy or prison
this time around
we will be the consequence of his action.
Visionaries refusing orders.

posted by stew at 8:14 AM

wWednesday, March 19, 2003

Ticket To Ride

There's no road map
on Dubya’s super highway
not even a destination.

His terrible tantrum of angry white men
(who are looking
to kick ass
after they had to yield space on American bus
to the dark skinned and the ladies,
feeling pissed for forceable sharing,
Bush is offering Saddam’s butt
as sacrifice
for brittle feelings.)
is about to commence its uncharted excursion
through the burning circles
of unknown infernos
of moronic calculation
and misstated reality.

The white wargasm
takes unfettered soccer riot joy
until the bumpkin’s bus goes over a mountainous cliff
wondering all the way down
why God has forsaken them.

posted by stew at 11:21 AM

wTuesday, March 18, 2003

Let's Party

Bush’s Bloodbathist Party
is beginning to celebrate.
bombs begin blowing up
our future.

I was taking a morning walk
exercising a damaged heart,
it wasn’t a peace march,
a neighbor passed me snarling
“Why did he give Saddam an ultimatum?
They’ll go into Iraq even if he leaves.”
And I reply
“Cowboy talk plays well in America.”
She repeated her remark several times
sped up her furious pace.

If we really mean it
about hating France,
let’s give back the Statue of Liberty
better yet melt her down for bullets.

posted by stew at 9:15 AM

wMonday, March 17, 2003

Dress Rehearsing Armageddon

If the crazy Christers are correct
and the last days are now,
if humanity is on the brink of its conclusion
don’t blame God.

The Pope told Bush
God stays out of the human comedy
respecting our free will
to screw up
otherwise existence
would be
a Punch and Judy puppet show

And Rabbis
tell the Talmudic tale
of God once interfering in a dispute
among sages,
and being told to get off our turf.

If the end is near
humanity wrote the script
If Bushies rule
human beings let it happen.

If it’s too late
it’s only because we think so.

Every day
can be the first day of creation,
something new and sweet in the air,
it’s true because I think so.

posted by stew at 9:20 AM

wSunday, March 16, 2003

March 15, 2003
One more time

It was raining again when we arrived at the waterfront. It had been raining for a week and it seemed like the weather had joined the Bush Junta. Suddenly, bright and warm sun came out. And the largest peace demonstration in Portland history took place. Rain returned, but only at the end of festivities.

The local media is trying to convince us that the crowd was only 20,000. Nonsense, that's what it was the last time, and this incredible event was a third again bigger and better.

The organizers seemed to have learned that their rallies are unimportant and boring. And that it's the people's march that counts. They kept the speeches brief this time but that didn't matter. The crowd was so large that most of us were out of hearing range. I did feel bad about not seeing Congressman John Lewis's appearance. He was a major figure in the Martin Luther King wing of the civil rights movement. But then joy! There was Brother Lewis working the crowd and pressing the flesh. I had a chance to shake his hand and thank him for coming to Portland and remaining a nice guy.

There was an odd, only in Portland twist to the massive event. Local Anarchists and their pals had organized a separate gathering that had it's own rally, march and site. The big difference being that anyone who wished, could speak at their rally and that no permit had been negotiated for the march. There was some concern that this could lead to confusion and division within the antiwar world. But when the Anarchist brigade appeared in the distance with their huge red and black flags, they were roundly cheered by the more moderate peaceniks. I think these irrepressible characters are starting to express the growing inner anger of the more pacifist inclined. The liberals aren't ready to engage in creative disorder just yet, but they are glad now, that someone is doing it.

The main march was enormous, circling downtown Portland and returning to the waterfront. What impressed me this time around was the creativity and the exuberance. Previously things might have had a bit of a moralistic and pious undertone. Of course the neo-Yippies were also present and much fun was evident. But this time, by way of costumes, the best being a completely naked casually marching man, wild slogans, a grand variety of individuals (Teamsters and Bhuddist Monks) , hilarious signs and the general ambiance of madcap protest, we could experience the full welcome reincarnation of the 1960s war on boredom and death. The Sixties again, but this time around, it isn't only for bohemians.

I carried a sign that said "War isn't Kosher." I was marching with a group of Jewish activists who are fed up with anti-Semites calling Bushian madness a Jewish conspiracy. Suddenly an absolute psychopath, the kind you expect to be wielding a knife, grabbed my arm. He mumbled incoherently and then proceeded to recite in ancient Hebrew, the first line from the Shamah. The most sacred of Jewish prayers. He then angrily looked into my crazy eyes with his own. Without missing a beat I replied by reciting the second line. We formed an instant bond for peace. Joyous, the madman departed.

This may have been the last demonstration to prevent war. The next one will probably be to stop it. The mood could have been down, sad and forbidding. But there were no signs of depression or defeat. New people were joining our ranks. Morale was high and getting more so. Cowboy Bush may try. But he's never going to rule us.
Signs on the line of march. Buck Fush, Kiss Me I'm French, Lesbians Against Boys Invading Anything, Peace is Patriotic, Smoke Bud-Not Baghdad, Fuck Bush and His Oil War, Frodo Has Failed-Bush Has The Ring, Who Would Jesus Bomb? Stop Mad Cowboy Disease, a dog wearing a poster proclaiming--Bombs Kill Puppies, and millions more.
Adios Atlantis

The Azores may be the last remnant of Atlantis
Bush is there.
Maybe today nature will finish its work?
Giant jets not longer need it
for refueling,
so it's not great loss, anyway.

posted by stew at 11:39 AM