Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.
Laurelle Blair
31 years old
Washington, DC
Laurie Blair is coming at you from Washington, DC. Originally from Ohio, Laurie has lived in a variety of locales including Johannesburg, South Africa and Portland, Oregon. Mostly inspired by her own journey, Laurie's work is often reflective, capturing a particular moment in time and often lends itself to a monologue-like performance. In addition to being a spoken word performer, Laurie is also a musician and has been experimenting with melding these two mediums in her current work. Laurie is part of Word of Mouth, which hosts spoken word performances the Second Tuesday of each month at Bosom Cafe in Adams Morgan.
The Protest, 1/18/03
I am not alone, They looked like me
“Hey hey, hoe hoe, Busch and Cheney have to go”
I couldn’t see the beginning nor the end the trail of people I looked like Sensationalized Camera lens cornering costumes But it wasn’t a parade People were not celebrating
We were young, old, professional, Walking, wheeling, A prism of humanity fragile skins from all corners of the globe Asking, Begging For it to stop Strangers connected by sheer humanity It was enough It was powerful
Walking on numb toes over four miles Crowded together solemn the sound of drums of signs whipping in the cold air step step step step Is it about protection? The children? The oil? American Imperialism? Saddam’s cruelty, Desperation for money to fuel his Government while his people suffer It was about all of this and more.
I am still not for war I am looking for another way And I am not alone I was joined by 500,000 strangers We didn’t care about the Reasons the Whys the Musts the Shoulds the Needs The Critical Juncture… I care not… I care only that I don’t want this war Dubya does not speak for me.
I want peace I want a different answer I want leadership that Wields our power, our position For good, for love, for peace. “Go home hippies” read a sign held by three young frat boys Perhaps that is all they see, hippies Armed with love And that is ugly to them.
War is ugly to me Innocent lives threatened Double speak is ugly to me Feeding us propaganda about this war being For our protection, prevention When it’s really about oil Resources, you see, The planet is shrinking We want to be in control To Manipulate And they haven’t just manipulated the middle east My friends, they manipulate us Using our fear to push us to Complacency, silent complicity
but for me
I wanted to be heard Even it was only by those In the sea of signs that moved Like the tide… No matter how long I walked How many times my eyes swept the horizon I could always find a new one “No blood for oil” “No War” “Peace IS Patriotic” “How many Iraqi children did we kill today?”
I learned I was heartened I had no illusions that my presence would Be heard, that it would even stop the Course of events that seem inevitable, unstoppable But I feel better. At least I acted Spoke Marched For peace For love.
