The Justice Department is on Netroots Radio.com Sundays 8pm to 9pm Pacific. Powered by Unity Radio Net!
I'm Special Agent DJ Justice; Radio Host and Program Director for Netroots Radio.com; and I'm manning the dials, spinning the discs, warbling the woofers, putting a slip in your hip and a trip to your hop.
The playlist for Sunday 1 Nov 15 8pm to 9pm Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans Frontieres
~~ "Time Dried the Maiden's Tears" ~~
1 - Mono Men -- Daylight
2 - The Mercury Program -- Tequesta
3 - The Lipstick Killers -- Hindu Gods Of Love
4 - Daikaiju -- The Trouble With Those Mothra Girls
5 - 7 Negro -- Surf & Roll
6 - Los Straitjackets -- Pacifica
7 - The Bikini Lovers -- No No No
Station Break
8 - Boozoo Bayou -- Nights over Manaus
9 - Bernard Herrmann -- Twisted Nerve
10 - Les Hommes -- Intraspettro
11 - Lemongrass -- Le Coup
12 - Badmarsh & Shri -- Signs
Who luvs ya, baby?
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The Netroots Radio Player
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Go ahead, now you can listen while roaming the Big Orange and beyond!
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(12-String Ovation Balladeer Astoria, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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The Skeleton in Armor
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,
Comest to daunt me!
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But with thy fleshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms,
Why dost thou haunt me?”
Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the Northern skies
Gleam in December;
And, like the water’s flow
Under December’s snow,
Came a dull voice of woe
From the heart’s chamber.
“I was a Viking old!
My deeds, though manifold,
No Skald in song has told,
No Saga taught thee!
Take heed, that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man’s curse;
For this I sought thee.
“Far in the Northern Land,
By the wild Baltic’s strand,
I, with my childish hand,
Tamed the gerfalcon;
And, with my skates fast-bound,
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,
That the poor whimpering hound
Trembled to walk on.
“Oft to his frozen lair
Tracked I the grisly bear,
While from my path the hare
Fled like a shadow;
Oft through the forest dark
Followed the were-wolf’s bark,
Until the soaring lark
Sang from the meadow.
“But when I older grew,
Joining a corsair’s crew,
O’er the dark sea I flew
With the marauders.
Wild was the life we led;
Many the souls that sped,
Many the hearts that bled,
By our stern orders.
“Many a wassail-bout
Wore the long Winter out;
Often our midnight shout
Set the cocks crowing,
As we the Berserk’s tale
Measured in cups of ale,
Draining the oaken pail,
Filled to o’erflowing.
“Once as I told in glee
Tales of the stormy sea,
Soft eyes did gaze on me,
Burning yet tender;
And as the white stars shine
On the dark Norway pine,
On that dark heart of mine
Fell their soft splendor.
“I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest’s shade
Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest
By the hawk frighted.
“Bright in her father’s hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,
Chanting his glory;
When of old Hildebrand
I asked his daughter’s hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand
To hear my story.
“While the brown ale he quaffed,
Loud then the champion laughed,
And as the wind-gusts waft
The sea-foam brightly,
So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking-horn
Blew the foam lightly.
“She was a Prince’s child,
I but a Viking wild,
And though she blushed and smiled,
I was discarded!
Should not the dove so white
Follow the sea-mew’s flight,
Why did they leave that night
Her nest unguarded?
“Scarce had I put to sea,
Bearing the maid with me,
Fairest of all was she
Among the Norsemen!
When on the white sea-strand,
Waving his armed hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,
With twenty horsemen.
“Then launched they to the blast,
Bent like a reed each mast,
Yet we were gaining fast,
When the wind failed us;
And with a sudden flaw
Came round the gusty Skaw,
So that our foe we saw
Laugh as he hailed us.
“And as to catch the gale
Round veered the flapping sail,
‘Death!’ was the helmsman’s hail,
‘Death without quarter!’
Mid-ships with iron keel
Struck we her ribs of steel;
Down her black hulk did reel
Through the black water!
“As with his wings aslant,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt,
With his prey laden, —
So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,
Through the wild hurricane,
Bore I the maiden.
“Three weeks we westward bore,
And when the storm was o’er,
Cloud-like we saw the shore
Stretching to leeward;
There for my lady’s bower
Built I the lofty tower,
Which, to this very hour,
Stands looking seaward.
“There lived we many years;
Time dried the maiden’s tears;
She had forgot her fears,
She was a mother;
Death closed her mild blue eyes,
Under that tower she lies;
Ne’er shall the sun arise
On such another!
“Still grew my bosom then,
Still as a stagnant fen!
Hateful to me were men,
The sunlight hateful!
In the vast forest here,
Clad in my warlike gear,
Fell I upon my spear,
Oh, death was grateful!
“Thus, seamed with many scars,
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars
My soul ascended!
There from the flowing bowl
Deep drinks the warrior’s soul,
Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!”
Thus the tale ended.
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow"The Skeleton in Armor"
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(Field of Tournesol Normandy, France / copyright Justice Putnam
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Voices and Soul appears on Black Kos Tuesday's Chile; poetry chosen and critiqued by Black Kos Poetry Editor, Justice Putnam.
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(Cut Stones and Arch St Ceneri, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(Chateau de Valicourt Montmorancy, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(Notre-Dame de Reims Reims, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
“Do you smell that?” she asked, as we drove through Reims, past the headquarters of the National Front, on our way to La Tranche sur Mer.
“I don’t know,” I said flatly, “what is it?”
“It smells like… ” she sniffed in a haughty, Parisian disdain, “it smells like, fascism.”
I knew then I was in love with her. I knew it truly.
– Justice Putnam
“My Little French Honeymoon”
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Question: Who is your audience? What are you here for?
Answer: Tribal Alliances, Heart-felt Convictions, Passionate Reason, Random Abandon, Sustainable Civility and a kiss; to comfort the sad and the mad Ones; the Ones roaming the International section of the American Supermarket at night; or roaming the neglected streets looking for an angry malaprop to sink their teeth into; the Ones who seek without seeking and learn as much as they teach; the Ones who embrace and kiss and embrace again; the Ones who sing the song of the city and the ballads of the forest; the Ones who chant the rhythm of the sea and hum the melody of the desert; the Ones who sing the prayer of Her name and Her name is the World. Yes, those are the Ones. -- JP
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(Man, Girl and Broken Window Klamath Falls, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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So that explains it... !
Sunlight and Water Pitcher Muir Beach / copyright Justice Putnam
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... Or does it?
(Holy Bible and 3 in 1 Oil Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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I took another small sip of water as the next questioner rose, this time by the stacks of French novels. She was cute; red hair, tall, maybe 5'9" or 5'10", well proportioned. Had to be another doctoral student in Comparative Literature at Cal; so even at 24 or 25, was too young for my wandering eye.
"You stated," she stated determinedly, "and I quote; 'Comedy, Poetry and Fiction are only effective and only become Art if there is a Truth behind the humor, the verse and the lie.'"
"Yes," I uttered to fill the small silence.
"In your writing; in your humor, verse and lies, are you telling a Truth about yourself?" she asked, "or are you telling a Truth about the Culture and Society as a whole?"
"Yes," I answered.
--Justice Putnam
"Conversations With The Audience"
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(Motown NN14 Detroit, Michigan / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(Chair, Floor and Electric Cord Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
"The most unostentatious, the most inexpensive, the most ridiculous chair, if a chair can be ridiculous, which could be devised. Brassai chose precisely this insignificant chair and, snapping it where he found it, unearthed what there was in it of dignity and veracity. THIS IS A CHAIR."
-- Henry Miller
"The Eye of Paris"
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(Rail Road Crossing Sonoma, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(Farm Road Olema, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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"Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had no bard to sing their praises."
-- Horace
"Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand."
-- Charles Kingsley
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(Lamp and Post Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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(House Ruins of Poet St Pol Roux Brittany, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
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The Off Ramp to Terra Azul
by
Justice Putnam
"If it were possible to know the outcome of every journey, few journeys would be undertaken," Farouk Hazim said into the cell phone. "But I know the outcome of this journey. There is nothing mysterious about it. So I just hit the turn signal and turn right at the end of the off ramp."
I could hear an angry buzz in reply from the cell as Farouk held it away from his ear. He looked at me and smiled. After several moments he let a small silence elapse and then put the cell to his ear, "Do not worry. I will off-load by 10 am, I have my top helper with me today."
Farouk closed his cell and put it in the holder. He shifted the big semi and changed lanes. He checked both side mirrors and continued our conversation.
"It's all a matter of what you first notice in life," he said, "at each benchmark, what do you notice?'
I didn't hear his statement as a question at first, but finally I realized his request,
"I wrote a poem about that issue," I proclaimed, unconsciously full of myself, "I wrote about an argument about which came first, Light or Sound. For me the first sound was a heartbeat."
"Aha!" Farouk Hazim exclaimed loudly, "That is very important. You are a Romantic, be careful my friend," he lowered his voice in seriousness, "as strong and intelligent as you are, Romantics have a high death rate."
He laughed in his singular, Farouk Hazim manner. If you didn't know that Farouk came from Lebanon, you'd think he was descended from Zorba the Greek.
"None of us escape what we're born into," Farouk continued, "we can move from place to place, we can rub elbows with people of different classes, one can do any number of things to escape. But we can never escape."
"I always felt the great equalizer," I interjected, "is education. Social mobility is attained with education."
Farouk laughed loud and long again. His eyes were gleaming when he responded,
"Yes! You are very correct. The thing about education, though, is that the more of it you have, the more you know that we can never escape that which we're born into!" Farouk laughed and laughed.
"But I don't understand," I said, truly confused. "I look to you as an example of what can be attained. I mean, look at you, ten years ago you were cleaning offices and now you own your own trucking firm. Your kids go to private schools, your wife is beautiful."
"It still doesn't matter," Farouk Hazim was shaking his head, " there is no escape. Not for you, not for me, not for my children or my beautiful wife."
Farouk checked his side mirror as he shifted gears. He was silent for a long moment and then continued,
"The first sounds I heard were bombs exploding in my village. The first pain I had was from shrapnel in my leg. The first thing I saw was a rifle firing. The first time I met other people was at a funeral. Aha!" Farouk suddenly said, "we have arrived!"
I looked up and saw the exit sign. Farouk turned right at the end of the off ramp. He slowly built compression in the big semi and shifted gears as we approached the city limit sign, welcoming us to Terra Azul. Everything looked familiar, as if I was born into it.
We passed the sign and I had a sinking feeling.
Written in small graffiti-like letters next to the Chamber of Commerce plaque was the invocation,
"Death to All Who Enter Here."
© 2006 by Justice Putnam
and Mechanisches-Strophe Verlagswesen
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Rest in Peace Aaron Schwartz
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(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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