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ChamoshChamoshvnd ChamoshChamoshvnd (@ChamoshChamoshvnd) on Pinned comment
نامه‌ی مارتين لوترکينگ از زندان بيرمنگام

نامه‌ی مارتين لوتر کينگ از زندان بيرمنگام يکی از سندهای مهم مبارزه‌ی غيرخشونت‌آميز برای حقوق مدنی سیاهان و ديگر شهروندان محروم در ايالات متحده‌ی آمريکا است. در اينجا بخش‌هايی از اين نامه را می‌آوريم. قسمت‌های حذف شده با [. . .] مشخص شده اند.

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ChamoshChamoshvnd ChamoshChamoshvnd (@ChamoshChamoshvnd) on Pinned comment
Martin Luther King's Last Speech: "I've Been To The Mountaintop"

Odetta - This Little Light Of Mine (best version)

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ChamoshChamoshvnd ChamoshChamoshvnd (@ChamoshChamoshvnd) on Pinned comment


For Carl Solomon

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,

who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
A Muslim preacher was asking his child,
Do you know what it means to be a Muslim?

Honesty and not causing harm, serving the people
These are as good as praying and the key for good life.

The child said: “Based on such criteria, in our city
There’s only one Muslim, and he is Armenian”!

Parvin Etesami
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
روز شکار، پیرزنی با قباد گفت
کاز آتش فساد تو، جز دود و آه نیست

روزی بیا به کلبهٔ ما از ره شکار
تحقیق حال گوشه‌نشینان گناه نیست

هنگام چاشت، سفرهٔ بی نان ما ببین
تا بنگری که نام و نشان از رفاه نیست

دزدم لحاف برد و شبان گاو پس نداد
دیگر به کشور تو، امان و پناه نیست

از تشنگی، کدوبنم امسال خشک شد
آب قنات بردی و آبی بچاه نیست

سنگینی خراج، بما عرضه تنگ کرد
گندم تراست، حاصل ما غیر کاه نیست

در دامن تو، دیده جز آلودگی ندید
بر عیبهای روشن خویشت، نگاه نیست

حکم دروغ دادی و گفتی حقیقت است
کار تباه کردی و گفتی تباه نیست

صد جور دیدم از سگ و دربان به درگهت
جز سفله و بخیل، درین بارگاه نیست

ویرانه شد ز ظلم تو، هر مسکن و دهی
یغماگر است چون تو کسی، پادشاه نیست

مردی در آنزمان که شدی صید گرگ آز
از بهر مرده، حاجت تخت و کلاه نیست

یکدوست از برای تو نگذاشت دشمنی
یک مرد رزمجوی، ترا در سپاه نیست

جمعی سیاهروز سیهکاری تواند
باور مکن که بهر تو روز سیاه نیست

مزدور خفته را ندهد مزد، هیچکس
میدان همت است جهان، خوابگاه نیست

تقویم عمر ماست جهان، هر چه میکنیم
بیرون ز دفتر کهن سال و ماه نیست

سختی کشی ز دهر، چو سختی دهی بخلق
در کیفر فلک، غلط و اشتباه نیست

پروین اعتصامی
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
کار ضعیفان ز چه بی رونق است؟
خون فقیران ز چه رو بی بهاست؟

عدل چه افتاد که منسوخ شد؟
رحمت و انصاف چرا کیمیاست؟

پروین اعتصامی
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
دزد اگر شب ،
گرم یغما کردن است
دزدی حکام ، روز روشن است.

«پروین اعتصامی»
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) replied to Parsa (@Parsa) on Pinned comment
This whole process of creating "other" is always a powerful tool for initiating all sorts of prejudices, discriminations and racism.
Along the line of your suggestion on how ancient Persians were central to creation of "other" to Greeks and Romans, let's recall the term Xenophobia, was coined after the Greek historian Xenophon, and his 'distaste' for the Persians.
And of course the West doesn't have a monopoly on racism.
In Chinese the term traditionally used to describe White folks is "yángguǐzi" [洋鬼子] which means White Devil (that's in Mandarin), in Cantonese whites are called "Gweilo," which means foreign devil! I've heard from Chinese friends that the literal translation of term used in Chinese for Black folks is Black Devil!!
Back home in our own neck of the woods it's just incredible how much "our own" devilish mullahs have been able to fan the flames of discrimination, racism and prejudice against our fellow Afghans, Arabs, Sunnis,...just in the past 40 years.
All these colorful observations aside the most incoherent concept of all seems to be this notion of the so called "Western civilization," which under any basic scholarly scrutiny proves to be just an accumulation of myth and incredibly sloppy historiography.
The book by Isaac looks very interesting, will order it from the library, thanx for that and the poem by Graves.

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Parsa Parsa (@Parsa) replied to Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
For me there is another important aspect is the racism that we encounter in the West and where are the origins of them. I am not saying racism only exist in the West. It seems to be Greco Persian Wars and Roman-Persian Wars that play a big role in the origins of racism in the West. I just discovered a book that does look at the "Invention of Racism".
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Parsa Parsa (@Parsa) replied to Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
Thanks once again for your thorough feedback. I have to do some reading on Black Athena. I cannot remember the name of the French philosopher who said we cannot have a sense of nationhood unless we mix it with falsehood. I leave you with a great antiwar poem by Robert Graves:

The Persian Version

Truth-loving Persians do not dwell upon
The trivial skirmish fought near Marathon.
As for the Greek theatrical tradition
Which represents that summer's expedition
Not as a mere reconnaisance in force
By three brigades of foot and one of horse
(Their left flank covered by some obsolete
Light craft detached from the main Persian fleet)
But as a grandiose, ill-starred attempt
To conquer Greece - they treat it with contempt;
And only incidentally refute
Major Greek claims, by stressing what repute
The Persian monarch and the Persian nation
Won by this salutary demonstration:
Despite a strong defence and adverse weather
All arms combined magnificently together.
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iraj iraj (@iraj) on Pinned comment
اون ممه رو لولو برد
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
Although as you correctly mention there's no historical account of the Greco-Persian Wars from our side, in recent decades there has been some attempts on that account to create a literary based narrative of the Persian side. The most outstanding one is the historical novel by the late great American novelist Gore Vidal, titled "Creation," in which Greeks are the unculturesd, coot childmolesters and us, the Persian, the true civilized and noble beings. The novel has been translated into Persian as "آفرینش".

What really caught my attention here though, is this query you're posing:
"But how did the failure to subjugate Athens and Sparta save the ‘Western civilization’? We know the Persian Empire had respected and even saved other civilisations, the Hebrew culture, is the most quoted example who found their livelihood under the Persians. The Persians wanted all the Hellenic world to join their league of nations but not to change their customs or traditions."

Any response to this questions opens up so many other queries which basically undermine and subvert the entire notion and perception of Western civilization as we know it today.

I'll just mention one and leave the rest for another time, but the whole Hellenic culture and civilization itself would have been impossible without the Greeks' appropriations of the Afro-Asiatic contributions in sciences and arts. See below:

Black Athena: The Afroasiatic Roots of Classical Civilization,

And thanx for another thought provoking entry. Cheers.
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said Saïd Amin (@said) on Pinned comment
For all those having a temper tantrum over this, I recommend the following seminar/class: How to overcome my superiority complex about the color of my skin.

Note: superiority and inferiority feelings are two sides of the same psychological coin.
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MohammadAla Mohammad Ala (@MohammadAla) on Pinned comment
Pale skin people came from the West Asia (wrongly known as the Middle East).
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ChamoshChamoshvnd ChamoshChamoshvnd (@ChamoshChamoshvnd) on Pinned comment
Antonin Artaud - Pour en Finir avec le Jugement de dieu

Hear Antonin Artaud’s Censored, Never-Aired Radio Play: To Have Done With The Judgment of God (1947)

Antonin Artaud had his first mental breakdown at the age of 16 and, from there on out, spent much of his life in and out of asylums. Diagnosed with “incurable paranoid delirium,” Artaud suffered from hallucinations, glossolalia, and bouts of violent rage. And his treatment probably did about as much harm as it did good. He was prescribed laudanum, which gave him a lifelong addiction to opiates. He endured some truly horrific procedures like electric shock treatment along with the highly dubious insulin therapy, which put him in a coma for a while.

In spite of this, Artaud proved to be a hugely influential theorist and playwright, famous for coining the term, “Theater of Cruelty.” His performances were designed to assault the senses and sensibilities of the audience and awaken them to the base realities of life -- sex, torture, murder and bodily fluids. Artaud wanted to break down the boundary between actor and audience and create an event that was ecstatic, uncontained and even dangerous. His ideas revolutionized the stage.
As the late great Susan Sontag once wrote,
“no one who works in the theater now is untouched by the impact of Artaud’s specific ideas.”
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MashGhasem MashGhasem (@MashGhasem) on Pinned comment

به مناسبتِ بیستمین سالِ قیامِ دلیرانه‌ی گتتوی شهرِ ورشو

از آن‌ها که رویاروی
با چشمانِ گشاده در مرگ نگریستند،
از برادرانِ سربلند،
در محله‌ی تاریک
یک تن بیدار نیست.

از آن‌ها که خشمِ گردن‌کش را در گِرهِ مشت‌های خالیِ خویش فریاد کردند،
از خواهرانِ دلتنگ،
در محله‌ی تاریک
یک تن بیدار نیست.

از آن‌ها که با عطرِ نانِ گرم و هیاهوی زنگِ تفریح بیگانه ماندند
چرا که مجالِ ایشان در فاصله‌ی گهواره و گور بس کوتاه بود،
از فرزندانِ ترس‌خورده‌ی نومید،
در محله‌ی تاریک
یک تن بیدار نیست.

ای برادران!
شماله‌ها فرود آرید
شاید که چشمِ ستاره‌یی
به شهادت
در میانِ این هیاکلِ نیمی از رنج و نیمی از مرگ که در گذرگاهِ رؤیای ابلیس به خلأ پیوسته‌اند
تصویری چنان بتواند یافت
که شباهتی از یهوه به میراث برده باشد.

اینان مرگ را سرودی کرده‌اند.
اینان مرگ را
چندان شکوهمند و بلند آواز داده‌اند
که بهار
چنان چون آواری
بر رگِ دوزخ خزیده است.

ای برادران!
این سنبله‌های سبز
در آستانِ درو سرودی چندان دل‌انگیز خوانده‌اند
که دروگر
از حقارتِ خویش
لب به تَحَسُر گَزیده است.

مشعل‌ها فرود آرید که در سراسرِ گتتوی خاموش
به جز چهره‌ی جلادان
هیچ چیز از خدا شباهت نبرده است.
اینان به مرگ از مرگ شبیه‌ترند.
اینان از مرگی بی‌مرگ شباهت برده‌اند.
سایه‌یی لغزانند که
چون مرگ
بر گستره‌ی غمناکی که خدا به فراموشی سپرده است
جنبشی جاودانه دارند.

۱۶ اسفندِ ۱۳۴۱
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
Malcolm X: By Any Means Necessary
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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
We Shall Not Be Moved

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Dakho Dakho (@Dakho) on Pinned comment
We shall overcome

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