Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Today poem.

Today is a coca-cola day,
a fizzy, Pop! Pop! Pop! Soda sippin’ shine day,
an empty bottle turned water weapon,
a water weapon turned for thirst quenchin’,
ice cream dreams drip down the dog day lips,
yummm!
finger-licking sounds as the truck sings its sweets and then banana-splits!

Slip and Slide in the Slurpee Sun!
a golden girl splashes sun-block on her bronze boy’s back, writing secret messages for that Slurpee Sun to
Sting!

And bare feet sizzle on cement stovetops,
Just like the sunny-side up eggs that bubble and
Pop!
Water Balloon Bombs!
“Take Cover! To the Fort! The Fort!”
“Don’t Run! You’ll slip and break your neck!”
Click!
A Kodak moment Mom takes a
Click!
Click!
Click!
Power off,
Fading away

Fading to a memory, to the dawn of an old day,
To an empty bottle turned tourist trashed beach,
To an empty beach’s gleam, crowded in a smiling shack with
Summer Sweat,
Dripping down in beaded bracelets
wrapping ‘round wrists
tugging on sleaves
Prodding, Poking, Pointing
at the metal mouth,
Fingers in the mouth!
Feeling, figuring out the foreign face;

“Hallo! Hallo! Hi!”
Laughs and laughs and piggybacks!
Little loves attack! Attack! Tickle Attack!
Laughs and laughs, catching breathes,
“Ha!Ha!”
Laughs and concerns, waiting their turn for a
grateful gulp;

Bare feet dance on a dirt floor,
Singing songs for what their thankful for,
A concerned look on a caring face,
A selfless mom, wipes away the paint
from a volunteers sticky face,
a lick on her thumb,
a rub on his chin,
a coca-cola war, is it forgotten?
“Take Cover! To the Fort! the Fort!”
“Run Faster! Run Faster! From these Capitalist Bastards!”
Click!
Click!
Is it forgotten?
Click! Click! Click!
A Kodak moment,
A Kodak memory, A
Click!
A camera’s captive,
Click!
Click!
Click!
Power off

Thursday, February 18, 2010

1 superbowl, groundhogs day, valentines day and ash wednesday later....

(taken from text messages)


Jan 18-  

Silas: Going to Haiti

Me:    dude no way, ive been searching for orginazations to go, who you going with? im jealous man you get to help.

Silas: with a group from old church. theyre redcross or habitat for humanity?

Me:    sweet man for how long?

Silas:  Friday for a month

Me:    dude i wish i could go, is there anything i can do to help?

Silas:  Save money to go

Me:    are there not a lot of people going?

Silas:  yeah biggest need is 7 people to care enough to go

Me:    (cant remember, something about the complacency of americans and the apathetic attitude some of america's churches)

Silas:   Almost cant blame the people. this world made life all about number one. gotta bust tradition.

Me:     (i say something in agreement)

Silas:   yeah it's bad


(silas called me day before he got on plane, couldn't talk much since i was about to go into archaeology class)

             19 Days Later....february 17th


Me:     bro youre going to be released!! Yeehaw! you got to tell me how hardcore a haitian jail is dude!

Silas:   haha hey man. yeah ive got some good stories. see you soon.

Me:     SILAS! no kidding dude. call me when you get a chance! check your facebook wall dude! im coming home this weekend if you guys come back. so crazy dude so crazy.

february 18th 12:00-12:39 am idaho time....

Silas called. we had a good talk. turns out, cannibalism and "card games" are quite common in a haitian jail.
and i quote silas " its never too early to start haitian jail cell jokes"
so let the jokes begin...

good to have you back buddy.

jordman

Friday, February 12, 2010

Let My People Go.


 When the waters came we were sitting,
On your dry front porch,
Watching the remaining embers of the greedy fire-swept city,
Die away;
The columns of smoke turned white as the poisonous, salty, and chilling tide blanketed the coals of what use to be a bright and busy boardwalk,
Full of blissful people;
Our view from your faithful home,
Perched atop the capitalized mountain of melted houses now dressed in gray,
Was perfect;
We could soak it in, the reality of what was coming,
Everything,
Even the crisp cutting cry of the ocean bending and breaking the iron arms of the baseball stadium hit our home.


And there we sat,
You on your piano bench, gently, like a mother,
Softly caressing the ivory keys of that poor puling piano,
While my callused fingers bled emotion through the heartstrings of my frowning guitar;
And you sang!
Oh your sweet liberated vocal chords announced to the earth,
That we were all that was left.


And your voice guided the waters to us,
Giving birth, like a virgin, to our own Nile River;
And when it cradled the wail of an abandoned infant in a 4000 year old woven basket to our port,
You smiled,
And waded through the polluted muddy water,
Past the sailing washing machines and anchored minivans,
To the middle of our dead and silent street,
Where the Egyptian package met you;
And as you spread your arms out to catch the floating treasure,
The wind blew through your wingspan,
Up to your pitch-black star bright hair,
And brushed it out of your green eyes,
Revealing the smile you were hiding;
The smile I had never seen before,
A smile that assured me,
Everything was gone,
But not to worry, we wouldn’t be left behind,


Soon, we’d be gone.


So you opened the dull brown basket,
Your pale skinny fingers almost snapping under the weight, but had enough strength,
No more,
No less,
And out shot a hand, stolen of its staff,
A small wrinkly hand, amidst the blowing ash and calm water.


It took hold of your finger,
Like a child does a balloon,
A yellow one;
And your smile grew faint,
While you tucked in this infant,
This lost cause,
This baby moses;
You wrapped him in swaddling clothes,
The ocean mist perfumed him with frankincense and myrrh,
And you let your draped hair cover your tired face as your back bent to kiss our baby moses on the forehead;
Such a brave kiss!
Quick and painless, without hesitation,
And you made sure he was snug and warm,
And replaced and secured the intricate woven dome of the wicker basket over him;
Then you pushed him away from his yellow balloon,
Into the rising waters,
Just like Yocheved must’ve done.


And you turned,
Without a cowardly second glance back at the biblical baby;
And you waded; waste deep, back to our musical messengers and me,
And there we sat,
Sending musical messages from that dim front porch;
Even as the waters came,
To the level of your accepting keys;
Even as the waters came,
To the level of our necks and washed against the ash that caked our empty faces and aged us through the years until our hair,
Was as thin and white as Abraham’s;
Even as we took deep deep breathes,
In the cold jealous water,
It came.


And there we sat,
On your wet front porch, letting go to all we ever thought we knew;
Providing the elevator music to whichever direction we were headed,
Up or Down.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Monday, February 8, 2010

Vocables

Today was a slow day,
not slow-core but slow shoes,
and not shoe-gazin' but hazy daydreamin'.
today was postponed but i was not alone,
and the lonely guitars screamed, but,
it was not screamo,
the vibrations commanded the rocks to sing out in his name,
but the pedals pushed out a post-rock praise and revealed a silent shame.

Today was the same as yesterday was tomorrow,
cause the melody will never change,
for it is a spiritual magic marker,
a permanent press, an inhalant imprint on the solvent soul,
an irreversible aspiration of brain cells disappearin'
from the consensual.

From the normal heart beat beat beat level of consciousness,
every beat beat beat is an essential part to human existence.
the sole of our bare tribal muddy feet will try to tap it out,
it will go and go and go and go until you've
Painted your Face with Fruity Flesh and Feather Paste
and joined the natives dancing ritual.
it will stomp and clap, scat and rap, it will mumble and hum,
it will become,
an overtone song, a throat chanting mantra,
it will never be done.

Because everyday is all that was which is,
a shaman's journey through a DMT accessed dimensional bliss.
a wave of sound, trough to crest, that reconnects every tribesman and tribeswoman,
to the whole,
we all share the same soul.
lost in our physical food, our material jail cell,
our minds are robbed of bail, and our bodies accept what society sells,
our malnourished bodies accept that hell.

We are not transcendent beings, no,
we have forgotten,
we accept only what we think we can control,
but this is not reality,
we have forgotten,
that we are all musical.

Jordman

Sunday, January 31, 2010

my best friend, Silas, went to haiti to help the many suffering people.

and in return the haitian government has jailed them up for alleged "kidnapping of orphans" and "trying to sell them".

just another good ole act of government. From a government that fails to require building codes for their country, which led to such destruction, and fails to improve their society (haiti is the most impoverished nation in the western hemisphere).


if you pray, if you meditate, if you wish on stars, or if you just think. do it for haiti. silas and his dad and others are there. read this article of what they have been accused of.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/americas/01/31/haiti.border.arrests/index.html?hpt=T1



Saturday, January 30, 2010

100-Calorie Nation

We are all humans and have lost what it means to be human. To give all we have, after we have met our needs to survive, to others. “To live simply so others may simply live” as Mahatma Gandhi once said. But as I write this, after returning from the Tunnel of Oppression (a cultural event used to raise awareness of different types of oppression around the world) with a few friends, we retreat to our comforts. We lose ourselves in the football game on TV, in all the salt and sugar that our nation has to offer, and in the jokes made so casually about the oppression we just witnessed.

But why is it so easy for us to dismiss such unfortunate real life oppression? We are a thriving people with all we need to survive, to succeed, to entertain ourselves, and much more. So why are there so many organizations in the world that are out there to help slaves, orphans, the starving, the uneducated, and shoeless children, yet not as much effort to help these people in need from the thriving people of rich nations? It was with this question that I set out to find answers in the culture I am apart of, a mixed society of different cultural backgrounds and students that make up a college campus.

But before I take you on a description that is not tantamount to the real life experience, let me tell you that participants had to sign an emotional waiver. This emotional waiver was no joke, and they make sure you don’t get the wrong impression starting with the first line, “The tunnel of Oppression is designed to give participants a very direct and emotionally impacting learning experience around issues of diversity, differences, oppression, and discrimination.” The waiver tells its reader that the experience is serious; it is designed to evoke emotions and make you uncomfortable. They make it a goal for one to walk away with something implanted in their consciousness.

Consider this your warning (straight out of the emotional waiver itself): “ If you are concerned that you will be strongly negatively impacted by participation, please leave now before the program gets underway.” And with that warning let me introduce you to my observation about human oppression in our somewhat dormant culture, this is my walk through The Tunnel of Oppression:

“I am not a FUCKING pair of tits!” The make-up masked woman announces behind her leopard-skinned dress that kisses her slender hourglass shape. She marches around the crowd of people that join me in the tunnel, stabbing her high heals into the floor she spins around and spits out her argument in anger and frustration; yet she is not too aggressive because of the limitations of her short dress that restrain her from being fully flexible. Accompanied by some black fishnet stockings that cut into her legs like her words cut into our ears she preaches, “Is this what you think of me? Of women? As objects used to sell products, objects for your pleasure?” She jabs a finger at a collage of scantily clad women, each in a different but just as revealing scene; one is conveniently packaged like raw chicken wings with a sale-price stamped on the plastic covering that tightly binds her down. “Is this how you feel? Do you feel like you’re being treated as an object?!” Her Spanish accent is thick as she asks a member of the audience, and the woman responds modestly, “Yes.” “Well I am not! I am not something EXOTIC! I am a human being!” she says as she sarcastically shakes her hips teasing the audience and then quietly transforms into a statue on display, like the statue of Aphrodite de Melos.

As my “unlearning” through the tunnel continued, I encountered more saddening oppression. During the second scene, the intense anger and language had become too much for a father and his two boys who left promptly through the next available door, and probably for the better, because the rest of the Tunnel only offered scenes of rape, exploitation, violence, and racial slurs. And if those scenes weren’t disturbing enough and didn’t put us into a state of self-reflection and emotional withdrawal, we exited the tunnel of oppression in a mock line of illegal immigrants and marched our way to the after experience discussion to retrieve these personal emotion for review.

The discussion was just as uncomfortable as the walk through the tunnel. Four guys and an older adult man sat around a table with a pretty female volunteer and talked about what made us uncomfortable. It seems a good symbol or theme for this event, or even most humanitarian events, is “discomfort”, making sure the public gets a taste of what it is like to be at unease, to be stressed, and maybe feel what it would be like to not be average anymore. For example, after the tunnel we discussed our emotions with a wide-eyed woman with long eyelashes. These beautiful eyes were counterattacking the experience of just being yelled at for treating woman as objects, and made us feel the discomfort at the table, therefore not wanting to address it added more stress to what we just witnessed in the tunnel.

As the uncomfortable discussion pressed on, one question stuck out to me, “If you could name the Tunnel of Oppression what would it be?” With a still and quiet atmosphere, I disturbed the silence with an answer, “The Tunnel of Humility”. A tunnel that is full of new truths that our comfortable society is ignorant to, and going through this tunnel exposes us to a new reality where there is more to the world than ourselves; it brings us down to a level where we have to embrace the fact that we don’t know everything, that we are spoiled, and that we have so much to be grateful for and so much to give. A father and his two sons were victim to this, the tunnel contained too much of this reality for his kids.

After analyzing my own experience through the tunnel, I turned to a fellow college student for his thoughts on The Tunnel. In this interview with college freshman Jon Gilkerson, I set out to find if this event was a good way of educating and getting people to want to be more involved in charities. When asked about what he was expecting and what was reality Jon said, “I was just expecting, I don’t know, didn’t think it was going to affect me, no big deal. But after going through it, I was semi-disturbed.” He stated that the Tunnel’s message to him was that “all of us are racist and bad people” that it was “like rubbing the puppy’s nose in the urine” and only made him feel bad about himself, not necessarily inspired him to want to go out and change the world. But he did agree that educating the public the right way should get more people to be involved in fighting oppression.

Jon’s answers and input on the event’s effectiveness was intriguing. A reaction that saw Americans are to blame for the oppression around the world turned the participant’s compassion off. Jon felt more angry with the people for blaming him, the tunnel didn’t install compassion and make him want to act out and help these people. And maybe that is why the majority of society is disconnected and lack involvement in helping the oppressed.

To try and make sense of this and society’s mindset I created a survey that asked people questions of their values, religion, and where they invest their money. First I compared the religion of the results to how they spend extra money. Of the 15 that answered this question, 14 were Catholic, Christian, or Mormon. But when asked how they spend money 10 would save, waste it, and buy things for themselves; three would fix something around the house, buy food and necessities; and one doesn’t have extra money. The correlation I made from these results is that most Christian people spend extra money on themselves, but this isn’t a good assumption since the results for how religious each person was, was all over the rating system of 1-10.

But overall the value that these participants held high was faith, so one can assume a person practices and defends their concept of faith. And this is where a bible verse comes to mind, James 1:27 “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” (New International Version.) So how Christian is our nation? If the majority of these college students hold values of Christ then they should be addressing the world issues and doing all they could to help the underprivileged of the globe. It’s a contradiction that can be seen in our secular churches that invest more money in programs for Christians, and forget about our orphans.

To get another view on the relationship between nonprofit organizations and society I contacted a friend of mine, Silas Thompson, who started a small nonprofit group called Economy of Mercy. What the organization does is various jobs and fundraisers, they collect and send money to different people groups and needs around the world. When I asked him “what do you think the average person is willing to give to any given charity?” He replied the “average person will probably give a fraction of any extra money, and very little of there time. But average isn’t a good measurement, because there are those who will give everything, canceled by those who will give nothing.” He also stated “I think we need to get out of our slump of comfort and satisfaction with the way things are in our day to day, and experience what it is that the rest of the world, apart from our ‘glorious’ America, is.”

“Our slump of comfort and satisfaction.” We are a material world, a 100-calorie nation. A nation where everything we want is easily accessible to us, and we don’t have any incentive to reach out beyond thoughts of ourselves, our weight, and our happiness. We watch our own back with the diets and trends the nation offers. We are bombarded with the expectation of our individualistic society’s “American Dream”. Commercials of charities face us everyday, Feed the Children, Toms Shoes, and Call and Response, we expect to get something if we give something, comfort and satisfaction.

It may be that the people who I see at these events, who are dressed stylishly, care about these oppressions, or perhaps they are participating just to be socially active, like an accessory to their wardrobe. Because if we really do care about these injustices, why then do we follow the event with a discussion at Starbucks, whose coffee is 30% harvested by slaves, or casually spend money shopping for vintage clothes the day before? If we really do care about these oppressions we would give all our assets to the needy. Compassion would cease to be a product for the American public to purchase when convenient for them to do so, and start to be an action and a desire to help others.

Monday, September 28, 2009

this has been on my mind for a long time now. please read my research essay and take part in ending slavery. someday i will finish my next cd as well, and anyone can purchase it to help fight slavery and help orphans. im at a loss of words of what to write about this horrific crime that has affected at least 27 million humans directly and the entire world indirectly. just read this.

note: this is my rough draft

Jordan Crider

A Forgotten Crime

How old are you? Not anymore, go back to the time in your life when you were 14. Imagine the town you lived in, your best friend, and your family. You are walking home from school anticipating the fresh home cooked smell of your grandmother’s cooking. But when you walk through the front door you smell nothing. Instead there is a visitor in your home. A family friend who has offered you an experience of a lifetime, to go back to the foreign country this “family friend” and take care of her children and do house work, in return she will send you to school where you will become accustomed to the language and culture! You and your family willingly accept the offer and within a month you leave home.

After arriving at the “family friend’s” home you are put to work. Everyday you wake up at 7 AM and do rigorous housework until sundown. You are beaten frequently for asking questions of the schooling you were promised, wanting to call home, performing tasks wrong, and just not working to your “family friend’s” expectations. You are threatened to be sold to pimps when you complain of hunger and sleep deprivation, but you are their slave, they do what they want with you and eventually, you will be sold. You will work in sweaty smoky brothels every night, get hooked on drugs, and possibly contract HIV. And when you are too much of a hassle to take care of or can’t be used anymore, you will either die, be thrown on the streets, or disposed of in any way your holders wish. This is your new life, your life as a piece of merchandise in the global economy, your life as a slave.

This is not the life anyone hopes for, or wants impressed upon others, unless of course you are a slaveholder. But the first time I became exposed to the horrors of human trafficking through movies and documentaries, my heart was crushed. How can there be so much suffering, so much slavery in this modern world when slavery is illegal in every country of the world? How can so many people in America, Europe and the “free” countries of the world not know about one of the largest organized crimes in the world? And surely if more people were aware of slavery and how they are linked to it directly and indirectly, and how easily they could help end it, they would.

So why aren’t more people aware of modern day slavery? Sure we’ve heard of child labor and workers with poor conditions that have no choice but to work a low paying job, but that is not slavery, they have the freedom to leave or to stay, and they are paid (Slavery). As unfortunate as their situation is, people are still aware and perhaps desensitized, so maybe people are desensitized by the act of slavery. I searched for an answer, yet I could not find a tangible reason as to why a majority of the world is ignorant to slavery. But with critical thinking I came to a conclusion, people don’t want to believe slavery is real. The problem is that in school we are taught that slavery has been eradicated, and in response we have little concern to pursue the matter any further.

In truth, the old slavery, the American plantation slaves, has mostly been eradicated but a new and more easily hidden form of slavery has emerged. In Disposable People, a book by Kevin Bale, Bale estimate, modestly, that there are probably about 27 million slaves existing in the world today, and estimate that he feels comfortable using (While other organizations claim that there are 200 million) (Bale 8). There are more slaves today than there has ever been before in history. Now why are there so many and so little awareness? This is the answer, Slavery today is easy.

First, legal ownership is illegal, so it is avoided. A slaveholder doesn’t need documents to own someone; all he/she needs is violence and some sort of control over the person. Many poor and overpopulated people are exploited because they are looking for work and get lured away with false promises of paying jobs. Slaves aren’t chosen based on race, but rather their vulnerability and desperation. Second, it is cheap to get slaves, and they return high on the profit. With such an abundance of potential slaves and no need to maintain their wellbeing, it is easy to obtain a slave, work them until they can no longer function, and then do away with them. Unlike old slavery where it was expensive to purchase slaves and important to keep them healthy for work, now there is no need to care about the lives of slaves when there are so many to take their place, “its cheaper to let them die” (Bale 15).

Now with so many slaves, where do they come from and what types of new slavery are there? First, there is Chattel Slavery: according to Bales it is “the form closest to the old slavery. A person is captured, born, or sold into permanent servitude, and ownership might be asserted.” (Bale 19). Second, there is Debt Bondage: when a person gives himself or herself as payment for a debt or loan. This debts repayment is decided by the employer, this type of enslavement may last 3 generations or more. Third, there are Domestic Slaves: Slaves that are kept hidden from society and forced to do domestic work in the homes of their employers (Slavery). Fourth, there is Sex Slavery: probably one of the most well-known and horrific forms of human trafficking, yet a relatively small portion of the worlds slave market. Siddharth Kara breaks sex Slavery down with two terms, “slave trading” the trafficking and supply of slaves to pimps, brothels, and other clients, and “slavery” the demand of sex and girls being used on average 20 times a day. He also divides sex trafficking into 3 steps acquisition, movement, and exploitation (Sex Trafficking 5). One last slavery type is Contract Slavery: where an employer lures a number of people into a job with promises in a contract, but once at the job they find themselves enslaved. The slaveholder can produce this contract to authorities if questions are asked, but in reality the person is forced with violence to stay working without pay (Bale 20).

With so many types of slavery and slaves on every continent in the world, who organizes this global crime? In order to get down to the truth of this question we would have to directly meet with the leaders of trafficking and exploitation, and lets face they aren’t willing to come out into the news and have debates on the matter. But if they did they would probably behave and respond like the middlemen of a slaveholder did in a secretly filmed interview from the documentary, Slavery. In the interview the men denied the work of children in their carpet looms. They offered excuses such as the children having been graduated from school and working there as their own choice (Slavery). These men weren’t about to compromise integrity for the free labor that gave them a high profit.

And that profit, that precious money is the main reason for human trafficking and slavery. It links each and every single one of us to slave holders and the exploitation of free humans. It is inevitable that the global economy is connected to and even causes slavery. Slaves make the basic products of the world. They do the lower end work such as cotton, sugar, cocoa, clothing, coal, and even fireworks (Slavery). These products are what we are benefitting from, since they can make cheaper goods with free labor and provide cheaper products to us.

Take chocolate for example. The UK imports 50 million pounds of cocoa a year, with the average person eating about 200 bars of chocolate a year. All this chocolate needs to come from somewhere, the Ivory Coast. 90% of the cocoa plantations in the Ivory Coast have slaves. Men are trafficked 3,000 miles away from their homes. They are penniless, have nowhere to go, lost, and then economically exploited. Forced to work from dawn to dusk, these men are trapped with nowhere to go. They are beaten when they don’t work hard enough with leather whips; sometimes they have their hands tied behind their backs then pulled above their heads while a man beats them from the front and another from the back. A victim from a cocoa plantation was once asked if he had anything to say after his five years of slavery, his response was that “there is so much I want to say but I can’t find the words.” But after being asked if he had ever tasted chocolate, the answer was no, and when told of the millions around the world that eat chocolate for pleasure, this was his message to the consumers: “ If I had something to say to them (the consumers) it would not be nice words. They enjoy something that I suffered to make; I worked hard for them but saw no benefit. They are eating my flesh.” (Slavery).

Consumers are indirectly benefiting from slavery. Slaves may be harvesting or creating a product that is used to create another product elsewhere in the same country and then exported to other businesses around the world. Just like Bale explains coal produced by slaves in Brazil creates steel and steel creates the car parts in Brazil that are exported around the world, about $1.6 billion in goods in Britain and even more in the USA (Bale 23). This absence of workers and replacement of slaves either drives the price of the goods down or just increases profit. Potentially, consumers buying cheap products are indirectly supporting slavery (Bale 24). Even the lack of moral leaders in business supports slavery, they aren’t looking for slave-free markets, but trying to get the cheapest good to be able to compete in the market. The government doesn’t bother to interfere because they benefit from the tax on the industry. Instead they use the excuse of the letting the market drive itself (Bale 235). Consumers don’t care where their goods are coming from they are just looking for the best deal, a far too small benefit to pay for the theft of millions of individuals’ lives (Bale 24).

Slavery affects our lives, and the economy, but how are the real victims affected? What suffering do they go through psychologically and physically, and what help is out there for the survivors? Domestic slaves are psychologically abused and physically beaten, often called names like slave and creature, forced to sleep in basements or outside, wear dog collars, and forced to kiss employers’ feet. These domestic slaves may work for years without leaving a house. In one case study, by Bale, a 22 year old girl had been a domestic slave in Paris since she was little( no age given), the psychological effects it had on her are astonishing, She had an understanding of the world that compared with that of a 5 year old. With so much work she only noticed the temperature change but never had an understanding of seasons, no knowledge of weeks, months, or years. She had forgotten her birthday, and was blown away by the idea of “choice.” The psychological injuries match that of physical and emotional injuries. This is just one case study and one can only imagine the millions of other who have been sexually exploited, taken as children, and locked in one room for years at a time (Bale 3).

With all this negative news of slavery is there any hope for the slaves? It led me to look for some comforting news, and I found multiple organization that were united for the same cause to help the victims of human trafficking and ending slavery all together. One such organization is Free the Slaves. Free the Slaves is an organization that birthed after the book Disposable People was published. They have come together to bring awareness to chocolate companies of the slave plantations in the Ivory Coast by making agreements to not purchase slave made cocoa. Free the Slaves has ways to get the community involved in helping fight slavery and even has a 25 year plan to end slavery (Free the Slaves).

This was an enlightening experience that gave hope and actual action against slavery and human trafficking, and also provided ways for the rest of the world and me to get involved in the abolition of global slavery. Here a few things you can do to help out!

1. Educate yourself. Free the Slaves and I recommend the book, Disposable People, by Kevin Bales. All profits from the book go to fighting slavery. And once you’re done reading give it to some one else to educate themselves! (Free the Slaves- How You Can Help).

2. You can adopt a liberator by providing financial aide. (Free the Slaves- How You Can Help).

3. Volunteer! Host an event to raise awareness and money for the victims and rescue of slavery and human trafficking victims. (Free the Slaves- How You Can Help).

Slavery is real, and it is happening in a modern world where many people are too concerned about the destruction of the Amazon rainforest but few realize that slaves are the ones doing the destroying (Bale 4). 13 year old girls are being used as objects 20 times a night, children have their childhoods replaced by dank rooms with the company of a carpet loom, and mothers and fathers are robbed of their kids. We are all linked to slavery, and therefore we all have the duty and responsibility to act out to stop it and ensure the right of every human being, to be free.


Works Cited

Bales, Kevin. Disposable People: New Slavery in the Global Economy. Rev. ed. Berkley and Los Angeles, California: University of California, 2004. Print.

Free the Slaves - Home. Web. 22 Sept. 2009. .

"Free the Slaves - How You Can Help." Free the Slaves - Home. Web. 22 Sept. 2009. .

Kara, Siddharth. Sex trafficking inside the business of modern slavery. New York: Columbia UP, 2009. Print.

Slavery: A Global Investigation. Dir. Brian Edwards and Kate Blewett. Perf. Brian Edwards and Kate Blewett. True Vision, 2001. Google video. Web. 25 Sept. 2009. .

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

i like bradley hathaway

i really think this video is awesome. reminds me of my song about the grocery outlet..



I also am a manly man....

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Fight HIV and AIDS

http://www.darkwasthenight.com/

Thursday, February 5, 2009

i like this song


so that looks like a lot of fun.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Saturday, January 17, 2009


So i haven't written anything for a while, but ive been busy.
 new semester starts monday! YEAH! happy about that. working 
on music, the Vietnam ep and another ep, about other stuff,
 i dont know. hopefully be done around february.....
hopefully.

Here is one of the most favorite things i have ever written,
 its about my trip to vietnam, and how i felt afterwards, 
someday it will be a song.

Blind

tell me how the resting sun looks so serene,
skip the description, not another comforting scene,
because the star escapes, and i lie awake,
while I'm sleeping,

tell me how the clouds choreograph a dance,
pink flurries ballet with the flaming sky,
a pirouetting dream, not as exciting, 
as the last citrus glow, 
that stabbed the milky marsh mellows,

take a picture, capture suspended time,
remember with a reminding sigh,
pick a lonely wall to decorate,
make sure there's no forgetting,
that dawn is the same as the sun setting,

focus on the creeping shadows,
stretching the the rolling hills and softening the cliffs,
they try to enhance the innocence and,
give truth a chance,

tell me how its time for the darkness to bleed,
into our town so we can satisfy our need,
to be revived and after we close our eyes,
but the sun isn't off, i weep under my sheets,
an 11 hour difference and i want to curl up and die,

close your eye lids and think,
about the famous bright blink,
was it something like magic or just,
another dull shade of green,
is it time to awake or is it the sun setting,

try to understand what the setting sun can do,
as it falls from the sky revealing guilt,
i hope it reminds as it burns you,
      as it burns you,
      as it burns truth,

i wish you could see, i wish you could understand,

      as it burns you,
      as it burns you,
      as it burns truth,

see the orange sink to the bottom of the tree,
leaves rustle was it gravity,
that plucked it from its hanging branch,
for all the world to see,
is it the dawn or is it the sun setting?

later
Jordman

Monday, November 10, 2008

Clean up on isle 5!

i saw her at the shopping market
something like the grocery outlet
she said what a nice smile you have
and i replied "paper or plastic?"

cause its paper or plastic, baby

come on and take a pick, not too fast
cause i got to bag it,
paper or plastic
before you leave through the sliding glass!

the shopping kart rolls with a squeak in the wheel
i see her over there can i contain what i feel?
with her mind up there on the shelf
did she look at me or was it something else?


Ohhhhh, her organization skills, they do impress,
i bet she categorizes her grocery list
hey! one last thing to cross out!

i think its about time you confess.....

cause its paper or plastic, baby

come on and take a pick, not too fast
cause i got to bag it,
paper or plastic

before you leave through the sliding glass


shes so sweet like the strawberries in her kart
the way she pushes it, its like a work of art
like 2 peas in a pod , i dont want to part

oh, did she just pack a toaster? please pack my heart,

price check! i need to know....
price check! i need to know....what it costs

price check! come on scan, this is no game
price check! i need to know.... price check!
i need to know....what it costs to know your name...


and, id bet its quite a deal
cause this aint no smiths darling,
no
with a rainbow logo,
you can bet our price is just

we got bargains on brands you can trust

cause its paper or plastic, baby
come on and take a pick, not too fast

cause i got to bag it,
paper or plastic

before you leave through the sliding glass

Ohhhhh, her organization skills, they do impress,
i bet she categorizes her grocery list
hey! one last thing to cross out!
i think its about time you confess.....

and shes walking up to me
suddenly i feel weak at the knees
oh, those big beautiful eyes,
theyre nothing less....

words spill out like honey,
i shouldnt have been surprised.....
when she said,
"hey, i broke a jar a pickles back there on aisle 5, its a big mess, thanks"


oh i shouldve known my hope wasnt any higher than the intercom noise.

a girl like her? a guy like me? im just a bag boy...........................

Monday, November 3, 2008

um i figured i'd write a blog today, since the elections are tomorrow.
but who reads this anyways.
well vote wisely
and stuff
i dont really feel like typing so im not going to type anymo.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUdjhKbImwE

Friday, October 10, 2008

brilliant red fading orange dull brown

this song is a sequal, cause i believe there should be sequals to songs like sequals to movies. the first song was ol' standbye, about the summer sun.

i remember last year when you needed me
but now you have someone else to
keep out the cold, someone else to make new memories

the fat full moon would appear and we'd tag along
collect the dead summer and organize its colors, bottom to top
then we'd take a deep breathe and perform a summer bellyflop
           but now you have a new friend to carry the chapstick
           for your wind dried flaky lips

i remember swaying on our front porch, it was the start of fall
the sun cooked us and the last leaves fell
we tried to savor summer and battled out one last inning of baseball

you and buttoned up neighborhood kids broke a sweat
but ghost runners gave you a break and the brisk air
caused the game to end in a tie
         just in time to go
          watch a new beginning to our favorite tv show

                        you used to rush to me when the summer sun burned out
                        to keep you warm from the inside out
                        arms would strangle me and i'd embrace
                        your soft frost nipped face

autumn has the sun cooling down
but were not warming up
im left hanging on a brass hook
while you come and go enjoying our old traditions with a fresh friend
   but i guess, all good things, must come, to an end

                         you used to rush to me.........chorus

like the summer i have been replaced, its
by a 100%, preshrunk, amateur  jacket
       to guard you from the frigid fall

thanks for reading

jordman

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Blade of Grass

this is a song i wrote about Vietnam, about breaking down on the side of a highway during a sunset.
the front seat it post a view
of the country side and sky so golden
truth stabs the clouds  in uv rays
not even sunscreen can stop it from burning you

my mind races images as fast as scooters did
you want to cross the street, 
well just take a step out of your comfort zone
and into air so dirty and humid

cause as the sunsets it creates lights and shadows
they make everything softer and more fragile
another simple song is how i describe 
the way it makes me feel, i want to curl up and die

i remember when the belt went out
we broke down in front of a house
the old lady was breaking dirt
while the grandson gave his shovel a lean
the socialist became more social and
i crossed the street to smell the rice patties
and the sun was setting
the sun was setting
the sun was setting

cause as the sunsets it creates lights and shadows
they make everything softer and more fragile
another simple song is how i describe,
 the way it makes me feel, i want to curl up and die

im sitting here writing songs so dear to me
how no one could understand, how the sun pierced this man
broke right through, my organic tissue
i can feel it growing, it's getting faster
pray it doesnt hit the blood stream, cause then
nothing will be able to stop this spreading cancer
and the sun was setting
the sun was setting
the sun was setting

chorus

i see the old man drift off in his hammock
the barefoot boys and flower girls
and my guts cant stand it
my guts cant stand it
my guts cant stand it.....

thanks for reading. 

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

555's


I see a broken man on his crooked stick
Holding the hand of his wife that’s sick
Reach for a half empty packet
Strike a match, light up his cigarette
Faint embers eat the tobacco leaf
Smoke rises, exhale the healing nicotine

Grey gasses burn the eyes
Blind, cant see a thing around
Catch a glimpse in the mirrors and know
Empty souls, nothing but lost not found

Old veteran walks down the street
Clutching crutches that keep him free
A tool, he uses his missing limb
Arms stretched out as I pray for him
A handful of dong is his only hope
To get him a relaxing smoke

Grey gasses burn the eyes
Blind, cant see a thing around
Catch a glimpse in the mirrors and know
Empty souls, nothing but lost not found

Construction workers seem to forget
Working, so they pull out their hammocks
Watch a flood of helmets pass
Start to drift away as one asks
His friend, “ why does life feel like a pointless game?
Never mind, to hell with it, can I borrow a flame?”

Grey gasses burn the eyes
Blind, cant see a thing around
Catch a glimpse in the mirrors and know
Empty souls, nothing but lost not found
Empty souls, nothing but lost not found



i might add more to this one, not sure yet

thanks for reading

jordman

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Cua Can


lets head down to the beach
we can watch the waves wash sand from our feet
stare at the lights on the horizon
are they ships that are leaving, or just arrivin'?

lets go for a walk
we can smile and have a long talk
remember the wonderful things that happened today
the moon seems brighter and waves wash the worries away

lets go 12 hours back
remember the buss ride, remember the shacks

sweat a little and laugh
is it really time to go? i dont want that bungalow!

let me hang my feet over the edge
here in Cua Can, its water under the bridge

just 5 more minutes, please?
to soak it in before i have to leave....

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

"please use a #2 pencil" or "Bright Eyes"

here is song i wrote, like a going away present,
just some advice for everyone i guess. about life...

well here are the lyrics


“Please use a #2 pencil”
Or


“Bright Eyes”

Now that you’re gone, I

Still drag my feet, but carry on


Sometimes before work I, I, wonder why

But still grab my shirt, grab my tie


And we love and we lose

And we tend to choose

The wrong answers to the questions


But this is not some multiple choice

So listen to me as I soften my voice

These tests, they kill, and I tend to fail

So I look for the teacher

And like a studied up student, with a bubble sheet

My life starts to fill


So stick it to the man

Grab a girl take her hand

Her eyes so bright like the band

Show her the way; pass on your lessons learned

And, she’ll do the same when it’s her turn…



now here is my weak attempt at singing it.......and playing guitar......and whistling.....





thanks for reading everyonebody

Jordman