1. PICASSO'S GUERNICA 1937

2. 'No, painting is not made to decorate apartments. its an offensive and defensive weapon against the enemy.' Picasso The Guernica spear penetrates a cryptic representation of Hitler in the centre of the composition. On April 26, 1937, German bombers attacked Guernica, an open city. The unprovoked attack began at 4:30, the busiest hour of a market day. The streets were jammed with townspeople and peasants from the countryside. Never before in modern warfare had noncombatants been slaughtered in such numbers, and by such means.

3. THE POVERTY PIMPS' POEM Let us celebrate the poor, Let us hawk them door to door. There's a market for their pain, Votes and glory and money to gain. Let us celebrate the poor. Their ills, their sins, their faulty diction Flavor our songs and spice our fiction. Their hopes and struggles and agonies Get us grants and consulting fees. Celebrate thugs and clowns, Give their ignorance all renown. Celebrate what holds them down, In our academic gowns. Let us celebrate the poor. Thomas Sowell

4. Ballad of Birmingham - Dudley Randall "Mother dear, may I go downtown Instead of out to play, And march the streets of Birmingham In a Freedom March today?" "No, baby, no, you may not go, For the dogs are fierce and wild, And clubs and hoses, guns and jails Aren't good for a little child." "But, mother, I won't be alone. Other children will go with me, And march the streets of Birmingham To make our country free." "No, baby, no, you may not go, For I fear those guns will fire. But you may go to church instead And sing in the children's choir."

5. She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair, And bathed rose petal sweet, And drawn white gloves on her small brown hands, And white shoes on her feet. The mother smiled to know that her child Was in the sacred place, But that smile was the last smile To come upon her face. For when she heard the explosion, Her eyes grew wet and wild. She raced through the streets of Birmingham Calling for her child. She clawed through bits of glass and brick, Then lifted out a shoe. "O, here's the shoe my baby wore, But, baby, where are you?"

6. Song of Truth Blood is on the ground, red on red, there can be no denial, death has been delivered by a white hand, elders and children with eyes closed, future generations murdered in rage, dream for their voice on the survivor's tongue, would anyone wipe this from memory, erase the pain of loss, smile on the killers, bow in thanks, be silent to this slaughter and others to come, there will be no silence, no drinking of genocide, the speaker must cry a truth, that knife will be met with knife, that the generations will be protected with the sharpness of love. Phil Goldvarg

7. tis of thee – ani difranco they caught the last poor man on a poor man's vacation they cuffed him and they confiscated his stuff and they dragged his black ass down to the station and said "ok the streets are safe now. all your pretty white children can come out to see spot run and they came out of their houses and they looked around but they didn't see no one. and my country tis of thee to take swings at each other on talk show tv why don't you just go ahead and turn off the sun 'cause we'll never live long enough to undo everything they've done to you undo everything they've done to you and above 96th street, they're handing out smallpox blankets so people don't freeze the old dogs they got a new trick it's called criminalize the symptoms while you spread the disease i hold on hard to something between my teeth when i'm sleeping and i wake up and my jaw aches and the earth is full of earthquakes and my country tis of thee to take shots at each other on prime time tv why don't you just go ahead and turn off the sun 'cause we'll never live long enough to undo everything they've done to you undo everything they've done to you they caught the last poor man flying away in a shiny red cape and they brought him down to the station and they said "boy you should know better than to try and escape" and i ran away with the circus 'cause there's still some honest work left for bearded ladies but it's not the same goin' town to town since they put everyone in jail 'cept the cleavers and the bradys and my country tis of thee to take swings at each other on talk show tv why don't you just go ahead and turn off the sun 'cause we'll never live long enough to undo everything they've done to you undo everything they've done to you