theslugpoet

A blog of creative things and other things.

174 notes

nativeamericannews:

Tourist Porn: ‘Human Safaris’ Are Killing Uncontacted Peoples In Peru
Peruvian indigenous activists and allies are calling on the Peruvian government to halt the so-called ‘human safaris’ that take tourists to the home regions of uncontacted Indigenous Peoples who are vulnerable to western diseases; many indigenous have died from these contacts in the last decade.

nativeamericannews:

Tourist Porn: ‘Human Safaris’ Are Killing Uncontacted Peoples In Peru

Peruvian indigenous activists and allies are calling on the Peruvian government to halt the so-called ‘human safaris’ that take tourists to the home regions of uncontacted Indigenous Peoples who are vulnerable to western diseases; many indigenous have died from these contacts in the last decade.

(Source: indiancountrytodaymedianetwork.com)

Filed under peru hu humanity indigenous latin america tourism

0 notes

It isn’t happening now…

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-isn-t-happening-now/

We’ll wake up one day to find no goods in our fridge, 
no water running from our faucets, and no electricity when we turn up the switches.

We’ll walk outside one day to see that there’s no rain in the sky
no sunlight in those daunting clouds, and no life buzzing about the wilting plants. 

We’ll open our eyes one day to find a gun pointed at our face, 
our front door knocked down, and our windows shattered into jagged pieces.

Today, we shake off that horrible feeling because it isn’t happening now, and we tell ourselves it could never happen here in our own neighborhood, yet those visions still swim around in our head when we go to bed. 

Filed under future america poetry poem

2,401 notes

teachingliteracy:

thecreativesense:

Hyundai Card Travel Library - Wonderwall

This amazing library and cafe interior in South Korea is a celebration of fractured geometry and irregular forms. It has been designed to communicate the diversity of both the information it exhibits and the people who visit it; a point that is partially accentuated by the collection of chairs sourced from around the world that line the table in the cafe area… envisioned by its designers as the spot where people meet and cultures collide. The staircase that jaggedly winds its way up the centre of the space is fantastic too. 

See more at: ArchDaily

Filed under south korea library cafe unique books architecture interior design

2 notes

3. Land of the Prisoners and Home of the Executioners

http://poemhunter.com/poem/3-land-of-the-prisoners-and-home-of-the-executioners/

XI.

The drug search was meant

to degrade and humiliate.

“When I got cuffed, he patted me down,

and rushed his hand up my butt.

When I tried to get away

he hooked me into a choke hold.

'Stop resisting,' he said.

'Where are the drugs?' he asked.

Two other officers held my arms

and pressed a gun to my head.

His fingers shoved into the teary brown eye,

so forcibly, so deep that for days I bled.”

No drugs recovered.



XII.

"Every time you see me

you want to mess with me,”

The gentle giant cried,

“I’m tired of it. It stops today!”

.

He had tried to break up a fight

but when the cops came

his neck was in a choke hold,

his head slammed against

the sidewalk.

Dead.

XIII.

Young and innocent, she and her friends

went for dessert just a little past 10 p.m;

the hours in which the town had declared

a curfew for those under 18 years,

though this sort of ordinance trumps

our rights to travel and peaceably assemble.

She kept walking.

They started chasing.

They tackled her to the ground

They smushed her face into the ground

They pulled her hair while she kept on screaming.

,

Lying on the ground

she thought she’d be beaten up for hours.

XIV.

I asked who was at the door

then I heard an unfamiliar name.

I opened the door and there they were

these policemen standing there

pointing a gun that could shoot

an elephant down.

I slammed the door and locked it.

I dialed the county’s number, and

told the police that the police were

breaking into my house

but they smashed down the door

broke through the bedroom

threw me on the bed

and beat me until I bled

like a bunch of animals

fighting for meat.

XV.

He survived the Vietnam War but didn’t survive

the Department of Veterans Affairs.

4 hours without treatment he decided

to leave and find another hospital.

He was told not to leave and so the staff

summoned the officers.

"All I know is he fell and had a stroke,"

said the staff to his wife.

But a nurse confessed,

"I’m the one who cleaned

all the blood off of his face.”

They had tackled him to the floor

slammed his head on the floor,

kneeing and stomping on his neck so

that it crushed the carotid artery

that broke into little pieces

that formed the blood clot

that formed the stroke

that killed the old veteran.

Filed under police brutality police militarization poetry poem reality