diaspora
A Second Language Christmas
A Second Language Christmas
We teach because we believe communication creates
enough community to turn this planet from disaster
back to freedom. Away insipid fascist controllers of
everything from water to wages! OK we may not be aware
that our mission is to connect souls, to establish local
beach-heads of trust and mutual satisfaction that present
an option far different than the one prescribed by WTO
edicts, winner-take-all capitalism. Ever notice how those
standardized tests squeeze minds into a world view that
works to optimum advantage as a cog down at X-Y-Z
factory? Sure it’s profit over people, in which horrors
fan out like paratroopers; of course it’s pollution and
war-tax, rotten neighborhoods, grandfather hauling a
day’s load of cardboard for 5 Bucks, 5,000 Won, enough
for rice and a cold winter without electricity, dang it
where are the families? Ah, but this is a cheery Holiday
greeting, let’s go back to the language bridge so we can
help people spread the word about what’s really happening.
Come eat with us, let’s talk, let’s build dreams into reality
on our own terms, away from globalized mercantile Christmas.
The WTO is the World Trade Organization that towers above country’s sovereignty in naked, bold, pure, unsullied, un-monitored or regulated support of profits at the lowest possible labor costs available on the planet. It was invented by GATT II, the Global Agreement on Tariffs and Trade. It has lowered the value of labor considerably, while also making less people able to afford the products they make. This of course, can only be sustained via massive debt and the propping of certain markets by those building the products. (China lending to the USA comes to mind, then selling its products at Wal-Mart).
Christmas Song Audio
Art Poetry Music #44
Executed at my Gwangju, S. Korea Studio
The painting above was executed in my Gwangju, S. Korea studio in 2013.
DG
She will dart you into dust,
she was thrown at me by Joe
Wabe, she has a
Real need for closeness
Yet tires and bores easily.
Salwa, the
love of her life, gets
easily attached to all
new house friends;
she goes it alone,
sometimes appearing late
night in that loose-fitting top,
or bowling. Lately
serving sexy meals,
Egyptian morsels to fund
last-minute
matriculation
into a program that is
rapidly
changing to the post
Shin era.
Among a growing throng who
have settled
here, so far from home,
but safer: safer
than war torn,
rebellious, terrorists camps,
or millions
of refugees. Kim
Jung Eun is a joke.
