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by spirit of '68
Wednesday, Feb. 18, 2004 at 5:10 PM
These poems were actually songs of protest from the 60's psychedelic band out of Berkeley California, Country Joe and the Fish. The Fish produced some of the greatest protest music of that period, and their infamous "Feel Like I'm Fixin To Die" song epitomizes the dark humor, anger, and hope of the 60's antiwar movement. The lyrics offered here were of course written about America's war against Vietnam, but the words are timeless and easily apply to the U.S. occupation of Iraq. If you don't know this band... do yourself a favor and find a cd by them.
thefish.jpg, image/jpeg, 623x428
"Maria" Country Joe & the Fish From the album, "Here we are again" 1968
Maria, I'm growing so tired of fighting this war, Maria, I feel like I just can't go on anymore. The sounds we make as they're dying Hearing their screams and their crying The children, their eyes are weeping We filled them with pain. You know the reason I joined up to fight in this war. You know the reason I refuse to fight anymore. Maria, please help me, I feel like I'm going insane. Maria, at night in my dreams I keep calling your name. After the battle is over And I am just another soldier Maria, I'm longing to hold you again in my arms. You know the reason I joined up to fight in this war. You know the reason I refuse to fight anymore.
"An Untitled Protest" Country Joe & the Fish From the album, "Together" 1968
Red and swollen tears tumble from her eyes While cold silver birds who came to cruise the skies Send death down to bend and twist her tiny hands And then proceed to target "B" in keeping with their plans Khaki priests of Christendom interpreters of love Ride a stone Leviathan across a sea of blood And pound their feet into the sand of shores they've never seen Delegates from the western land to join the death machine And we send cards and letters. The oxen lie beside the road their bodies baked in mud And fat flies chew out their eyes then bathe themselves in blood And super heroes fill the skies, tally sheets in hand Yes, keeping score in times of war takes a superman The junk crawls past hidden death its cargo shakes inside And soldier children hold their breath and kill them as they hide And those who took so long to learn the subtle ways of death Lie and bleed in paddy mud with questions on their breath And we send prayers and praises.
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