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I am dreaming.
Dreaming of my personal history and my personal relationship to my land.
Dreaming we stand against the forced language in a chained land.
An inserted language not of our choice, but imposed by force.
I am dreaming.

We are this vast layout feeling the excruciating pain of borders and bullets cutting through our lives.

This is the structure that surrounds us.
Their language.
Their spelling.
Their dictionary.
Our pain.

Many harsh fingers pressing to delete you.
Their system preferences cuts every dream saved in our memories. They force-paste their voices onto us.
They employ to edit our every speech tool possible.

The voice of Niki, meaning goodness, is mutated in our soil.
I dream of their language trying to cut through our veins.
I press help.
I press to check for updates.
But I can’t open the sites.
I am dreaming.

In pain.
Seeing our world as they have torn it.
Oh,
Voice of the land,
Roar.
Your language is this effective layer.
word it.

Land,
Their language is a law spread over our home.
Our windows.
Our surface.
Our face.
Our soul.

Soil, insert more of your words to save us.
Their language spoils Pardis, meaning Paradise.
Facing this monumental monster we witness how they deconstruct our form.

I want to take a breath,
A breath of truth.
But I can’t.
Yet I open my mouth that suddenly fonts begin to fall out on the ground I stand on.

I want to look through the monitor of my soul but my eye freezes.
I want to cut their virus from the hard drive of my land.
But I have no hands to call my own.
No home to call my dream.

In the middle of this fight are the remains of a dream,
Burning our every wire to life.
Dreaming, I stand amid in the remains of my past.
That,
They insert us into their chamber of Godless darkness as I hear them whisper this is Goodness.

Then they begin to break the external hard drive of our thoughts.
Dreaming, I see language as the most integral part of us.
In my dream I see how language has no tongue to speak the voice of my world.
Dreaming,
I hear their language,
Taking away our visual presentations and the lands.

What a landscape.
Invaded by force.
I hear a voice chanting.
The voice of the land is chanting.
Chanting,
Why is there no one singing in this land?
Why are my external elements decaying like that?

I want to reply,
Years ago, you see, singing became banned on your soil.
Voice banned.
Dance banned.
Movement banned.
Ink banned.
Body banned.

Freedom was taken hostage long time ago.
But how can I reply.
I am dreaming.
My sound escapes me.
My voice void’s me.
Gone.
Dispersed.
Forced to take refuge.
But where?

This silence is my language.
This silence is my dream.
This silence is my scream.
To you.
To me.
To my father.
To every mutant culture.

I am dreaming.
Me surrounded by invisibles like me.
I am dreaming.
Voice-less.
Word-less.
Page-less.
Pen-less.

Dreaming I hear a voice ask,
Are we collectively voided or a voice?”

http://www.gitameh.com/portfolioindex.asp?Acategory=Paintings

muse

Jun 5, 2009
1 comment

Thx

ws-Muse-c-09.JPG

Songs From The Nickel: I Wanna go home..

May 27, 2009
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Its early morning 8:15, William just finished a meeting related to new documentary. The street sweepers, little store owners are buzzing about..while, the police in freshly pressed blues..wake the leftover homeless.

Margo: Tell your movie partner... I am ready to go home. That's why you came today right?

They said you were looking for me, I just got out of detox, 20 days in that Mexican detox on 60th and Broadway. Its like jail, the doors close at night, me and 50 men, and one other female. They would have keep me longer, but the other lady got real sick, and the police came, and shut down the center ... Oh I did not know but when you put me on that big screen my life changed..I want to go home now.

Margo continues: Tell her she is my angel, you too but - she saved my life, you too william, but -she made me see myself.

William you always find me, now find my daughter, she is 27 years old, Melody xxxxx.. Check in Hollywood, or Riverside; tell her Margo xxxx... "Tita", wants to come home.

In 2008, the documentary director Alina Skrzeszewska, and William Shepherd first made contact with Ms. Cuba. At that time, she was homeless, and had been on the streets of Los Angeles' skid row for over 10 years. Ms. Cuba's story is not a unique one, and in fact - she is the norm; sexual abuse, drugs, too much drink...broken families and no way out from the "bottoms".

On April 30th 2009, Alina Skrzeszewska's feature documentary "Songs From The Nickel" had its debut at the Walt Disney Concert Hall REDCAT Theater. Prior, Alina asked William "search and find Ms. Cuba and bring her to the screening"

As the movie ends...Ms. Cuba remarks, "I can do it... I'm going to leave skid row"

Theses two phoneCam images of Margo, were taken by William, and given to Ms. Alina Skrzeszewska as a gift..from Margo(Ms. Cuba).