Clattery MacHinery on Poetry

March 10, 2008

Life and Death from Beijing: a Poetry Sequence by Luisetta Mudie and Dreamer Fei

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execution-by-yues-minjun.jpg
 

Editor’s note:

The title of this post derives from one of the most important memoirs of the last century, Life and Death in Shanghai by Nien Cheng, which came out in 1987.   She recounts in that book her imprisonment by the Red Guard during Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution (1966-1976). Politically speaking, her work represents what many of us would know about China during that time period.

Shortly after that book’s publication, the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989 took place in Beijing, in which upwards of 3,000 protesters, were killed or injured on orders from the Chinese goverment.   These protesters, many of them students, were by and large calling for democracy.

Here we are, approximately two decades later again, and it is the year of the Beijing Olympic Games.   Before the world supports, boycotts, or protests these games, or decides which grounds they will do this on; as events surrounding these issues surface through the media, we in the West may want to take a look at the heart of China, via the heart of one Chinese man, a poet.   Media can blind us to a fact we well know, that a big part of China’s heart is in poetry, and we need this information.

Everything written below here is either written or translated by Luisetta Mudie, who begins with a letter to you, her reader.

–Clattery MacHinery on Poetry

 

 

 

~~~~~
 

 

luisetta-mudie.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Reader,

A journalist friend of mine who is also a poet recently went back to China after 18 years in the US.   He was on the Square the night of the Tiananmen massacre.   Below are some prose reflections on his trip, but also some poems of his and mine relating to Tiananmen, to China, and about his son, who holds his sense of the future.

the-goddess-of-democracy-in-tiananmen-square.jpgThe prose and the poems were written by him in Chinese and rendered by me in English.   There may be other poems written by me at the same time, or in answer to his poems, as we had an ongoing poetic dialogue.   Chronologically, the poem sequence came before the prose, and is the culmination of a three-year dialogue between us, in which the poet is trying to move beyond both the concrete horrors of his student past, and, crucially, the numinous might-have-beens which haunt his generation.

It took those of his generation far longer to give up their longing for the idealized figures common to passionate young souls than it did for most of us, because those figures were made godlike and ultimately untouchable by the massacre that followed their emergence on the Square.   This passion that should have carried them into human life was forced instead into a twilight world of denial and strange attraction by the deaths that night in Beijing, and the government’s largely successful attempts to rewrite history.

But if we have the inclination, a poetic bent towards shade as well as light, those too-good angelic figures will show their true nature, which is also daimonic, and lead us into realms proper to poetry.

He would rather use his pen-name, Dreamer Fei, to avoid being identified.

Warmly,

Luisetta Mudie
Radio Free Asia
RFA Unplugged
 

 

~~~~~
 

 
boydragonpapercut.jpg
 

~~~~~
 

by Dreamer Fei
 

The Road Home
 

The giant Boeing 747 whistles through the thick dark cloud and white smog above the city, and touches down in a drastic way, reminding me that I am home again, after 18 hours of flight and 18 years of nostalgia.

It is about an hour’s drive from the airport to my parents’ apartment.   My cousin wanted to pick me up at the airport and show off his new Toyota Camry, but I declined.   I want to relax on the long journey home to adjust to the reverse culture shock of re-entry.   I have been warned about it by many overseas Chinese.   I get a cab; it costs 10 bucks.   I doze off as it snakes through the city traffic.

I was born and grew up in China.   Even after 18 years in America, I still eat Chinese food at least once a day.   Reading Chinese books is one of my favorite pastimes.   China is remote for me, yet it has continued to haunt my dreams.

tiananmen-square-1989-379x278.jpgI was a college student in 1989 and an eyewitness to the shootings and killings that night along Changan Avenue.   I was almost shot when I tried to persuade the soldiers not to fire on us.   I fled the country shortly after the tragedy.   But the tear gas, tanks, and crushed bodies permeated my dreams.   In one scene, I try to hold a fellow student crushed by a tank, and realize his two legs are gone, with only blood gushing from his body.   Such scenes are rewound and played again, night after night.   No time for healing after such an event.

It has been 18 years since I set foot in my hometown.   The cab brakes a bit and I wake up.   We are on the freeway.   Surprisingly, it has 12 lanes and is as good as any interstate in the U.S., if not better.   It is even more surprising that, along the freeway, you can see signs for W-Mart, Cosco, McDonalds, KFC, and Domino’s Pizza as well as Starbucks Coffee and IKEA, not to mention a Mobil gas station every 10 miles.

Am I in China? Did I take the right flight? In the days that follow, there are even more surprises in store.
 

Day one:   Environment Day

The drum beats.   Firecrackers plus the loudspeakers are deafening.   In the unsettled dust and smoke caused by the fireworks, hundreds of retired women dance cheerfully.   The government is holding Environment Day celebrations in a local park.   Government officials take turns giving the usual long speeches, talking about how environment protection is vitally important.   Everyone is a bit bored until, at the end of the ceremony, environmental officials and local primary school students release several hundred doves into the air, in a “back to the wild” gesture.

These doves fly high in the foggy sky for about 10 minutes before landing next to a huge pigeon coop to get their food on a cart in a corner of the same park.   The cart is owned by a farmer who makes a living by hiring out his doves for exactly this sort of stunt around the area.

It would be unfair to say that local governments don’t take environmental issues seriously.   In some areas, protecting the environment is more than a public show or a ceremony, because officials could lose their jobs if an environmental disaster happens.   A big chemical group in my hometown, funded by the government, planned to spend three billion yuan (around US$40 million) to tackle air pollution problems by reducing chemical waste and planting trees.   The river in my hometown—a mid-size city—used to be dirty and filled with industrial waste and dead animals.   In my memory, the color of the river was the same black as Chinese calligrapher’s ink.

But now, the river glitters on a sunny day (not that you get very many of them) and there are many weeping willows along the banks.   Several public parks have been built along the river as well; you can even see water lilies in one while standing under the traditional Chinese pavilions.   Along the newly built main avenue in the south side of the city, there are lawns with green grass, where huge plastic elephants and giraffes stand.

The locals say these projects are all done for the sake of face and to show off to top officials and tourists.   But hey, trees and grass are good, a glittering river is better than a dark one, and the “face” of the city really looks better than before.
 

Day Two:   Where is my old neighborhood?

One of the things that surprises me the most, is that I get lost when trying to find my own home, even though my folks still live in the same neighborhood I grew up in.   Now, most of the shabby old shacks that the poorer residents used to live in have been demolished, and the area is filled with high-rise buildings and commercial complexes.   Many of my old neighbors live in two-, three- or even four-bedroomed apartments with hardwood floors and all the modern utilities like refrigerators and washing machines.   These were luxuries for most Chinese 20 years ago.

“Life is good!” my old classmate tells me.   He now works at a law firm and bought a big condo two years ago.   He couldn’t afford the half a million yuan (U.S.$60,000) condo on his own, but his parents and his wife’s parents helped with the downpayment.   “Property prices are skyrocketing now.   If we hadn’t bought it, pretty soon we wouldn’t have been able to afford it at all.   And without that condo, my wife wouldn’t marry me,” he jokes.   I can feel his confidence about his future, though; he makes around 5,000 RMB (US$600) per month now.   “The monthly mortgage payment will remain the same, but our income will grow steadily,” he says.

But not everyone is as lucky and confident as my old classmate.   One day, as I am buying a pot of tall bamboos for my father in a farmer’s market, the old saleswoman asks me why I am buying it.   I tell her that my parents have moved into a new apartment and need some plants there.   She says she envies them.   She tells me that she used to have an old-style house in the downtown area where everybody knew everybody.   Now she has moved to the outskirts of the city.   “I miss the old neighborhood.   Sometimes I go back to see the old neighbors who live in the high-rise buildings and chat with them.”   Tears start from her eyes.   I ask why she doesn’t return.   She says the compensation she received when her old home was demolished for development wasn’t enough to afford a place there.   I don’t know what to say to her.

This city used to have many state-owned enterprises (SOEs), but since the early 90s, most SOEs have gone bankrupt, and thousands of workers have lost their jobs, many forced into early retirement.   The city is clearly divided into haves and have-nots, and in recent years, the gap between them has widened.   When you go to a luxury store, you can see Burberry shirts and golf clubs at prices higher than in London or New York.   Mercedes and BMWs prowl the streets, but in the farmer’s market, customers are haggling over a penny.   There are restaurants where you can spend US$100 per person for a seafood buffet, but you can also have a feast for only US$1 in a roadside vendor’s stand.
 

Day three:   Is social harmony possible?

In front of the gates of the city government, hundreds of tricycle taxis stage a quiet demonstration; they have signs on their tricycles saying “Legalize the tricycle!” “we want to survive!” “We want to pay taxes!”.   Since the systemic reforms and privatisation of the SOEs, strikes and demonstrations like this have been happening quite often in this city.   Some unemployed workers have managed to get some compensation due to the attention paid to the strikes and demonstrations, but it is barely enough to get them by, meaning they won’t be starving, but not enough to support their family, or pay for their kids to go to school, or for medical expenses like the occasional hospital visit.   Thus, some of the unemployed workers have made new jobs for themselves by using tricycles to taxi people around the city.   This has found favor with other people on a low income, especially the elderly, because they are cheaper than the bus and more convenient.   But now the cab drivers have had their noses put out of joint, and have complained to the police.   Others complain that the city’s 3,000 tricyle rickshaws are blocking traffic in the downtown area.   The police are always fining them, but they carry on with their business afterwards.

“They shouldn’t be legalized.   Shame on the city for letting them loose!” said the driver of one cab I rode in.

“We should be legalized.   We need to eat! It is better than stealing!” a tricycle-man told me while I took a ride with him.

I found out later that this saga has already dragged on for more than a year.   “The city government has a dilemma,” an old classmate who works for the municipality told me.   “If we legalize the tricycles, then more tricyclers will come out to make money, and we will get more complaints from taxi drivers, and traffic will be worse; but at the same time, we are under pressure to find those unemployed workers jobs.   If we ban all the tricycles, they will come to us for jobs.   Now what we do, we keep our eyes half open on this issue, which means we do nothing at this point, we only contain the amount of tricycles.”

One sunny afternoon, I take a walk into a riverside park.   I see the big rally going on.   Hundreds of old men and women all wearing Mao suits are listening to an old man’s speech.   He says:   “Our representatives went to Beijing to petition and they handed over the paperwork.   Now they are back; let us welcome them!” People burst into applause, welcoming the petitioners home as heroes.   Later I found out that the man giving the speech was a former Party secretary at a big factory who led the workers and cadres to complain about corruption on the part of the factory manager and asked for more compensation.   It seems to me that they are able to take a swipe at social injustice, including Communist Party officials without fear.

This is a surprise for me.   As a young student, I always admired Hyde Park in London where people can voice whatever opinions they want, and here they are having a public rally on such a sensitive issue; in China!   Even though the mass media are tightly controlled, people really do have some personal freedom now.   They can talk about politics and even say “President Hu Jintao sucks” in a restaurant, teahouse or even in the office.   Nobody holds you responsible or reports you to the police for that, because people just don’t care much about politics any more.
 

Day four:   The way back

My cousin insists on driving me to airport.   He says:   “You are impressed by too many good things.   I will show you something on the way back.”   We take a detour instead of the highway.

The road is dusty and bumpy, and the buildings and factories are the old ones I recognize from 20 years ago.   They are exactly the same, which is a shock.   I just can’t piece the two pictures together.

Now I have seen the good, the bad and the ugly side of China.   I don’t know where it is heading.   China is changing drastically, and it’s impossible to say whether for the better or the worse.
 

 

~~~~~
 

 
chinesewritingzhonggong.jpg
 

~~~~~
 

 

Poem Sequence

 

 

June 4, 2006

by Dreamer Fei
 

Tomorrow we will rise like the sun
 

Your images have floated outside my window
in I don’t know how many dreams,
suspended in endless youth.

Hand in hand, you stand, staring.
I push open the window, call softly:
Are you hungry? Cold?
Eyes look back like dark tunnels,
unknowing. The mouths make no sound.

They follow me, these eyes,

as shade follows shadow—
without name.
 

I know I should find your graves;

pay my respects to your families.
My son bounces along beside me,

fists full of yellow flowers—

but I don’t know where to find them.

You seem to ask how I could have fallen so,
from the night we drank, smoked, and sang the same song,

hand-in-hand on the Square.
 

It is the years that have fallen, I reply,
garlanded in mourning flowers, now rotting.

Wait for me, I say, follow me!
We’ll go see the world
or maybe our families will intermarry.

You kept me company for years

until one day on the June grass
you sat down and said:
Tomorrow we will rise like the sun
and scatter warmth on the green earth.

Don’t forget to bring your child.

Bring the future

and we’ll set off together
on the long road home.
 

 

~~~~~

 

June 4, 2004

by Luisetta Mudie

for the survivors of Tiananmen Square
 

The Price of the Asking
 

First love: the quavering call
to the cosmos,
the soul in ashes shudders in desire,
yet still imprisoned
by grammar.

Fresh loves succeed, first love gone by.
It’s you, of course, and you too—
love as the answer!

Fresh loves mature, no longer enough.
We ask again, work, drink, smoke,
take the veils of flesh, or words.

And all the time the forgotten soul
is waiting, knowing that the first love
is always, always
a question

for which the price of the asking
is life’s deepest response,

the price of the answer
the soul’s great work,

the price of the loving
a self given up to the whole story.
 

 

fandian.jpg
 

~~~~~

 

February 13, 2005

by Dreamer Fei

to Christopher, at one year old
 

Midnight Sun
 

Nestled in the crook of my arm, you sleep,
Fingers hooked around my shirt-button.
I carry you like a stringed instrument,
whose milky chords permeate the night.

Since you were born, I have held
The light of your arriving cry that night
When your first ray of life broke through
Big snows and winter dark, guiding

My soul-ship in its wandering ways,
A song thrummed from a well-earthed string.
So many days and nights lie before you,
My son! Ready to ensnare your heart

As you grow through wind and storm,
A far cry from tonight’s soft moonlight. Here,
Now, I am mindful of your spring fragility:
That I will be gone before you fully bloom.

What dream will sustain you, or what path
Your feet will take, I cannot know.
Soon, all that time will be as tonight, when I
Stand at the doorway, watch you on the way

to your heart’s home.
 

 

~~~~~

 

July 2004

by Luisetta Mudie
 

I have followed you
 

delawarebeach.jpgTo a small island near the courtyards
of the Huangpu Military Academy
where the river sleeps its long siesta

Mud-sluggish down past Tiger’s Gate,
bathing the estuary in oblivion—memories
of shame and gunfire are left for humans

To where a northern township lies
battered in a sea of bitter dust, the earth
and its people tortured by history

Along the sand of a Delaware beach,
voice crackling across microwaves—the cry
of lonely ghosts swept away by the wind

Out on the dark wings of memory to a night
that changed the world’s dream forever,
leaving us to pick up lost echoes of love

With the hot closeness of words in the throat,
words fought for, bought and paid for, picked
up by the roadside and between train carriages

Into poems as unanswerable as the weather
at the rain-soaked borders of sea-country,
poems that promise the storm but can never hold it

And there I saw you first, still see you, happy
on a boat in yellow, fish held high in the sea-sway,
your brave and careful eyes asking one question. When?
 

 

~~~~~

 

2005

by Dreamer Fei
 

How I wish
 

I could rock you to sleep
like carrying a baby, telling stories
under unknown stars

I could guide and protect you
wipe away tears
bring back a smile

Or one Saturday at the piano
I could just hear you
then read you my poems
with the sun streaming through the window

We could stand, hands idly linking
in the front garden, watching the children
Or later, in the back, watch the sun sleep
and the night fall, and come gently to each
other in the flesh

We could explore the whole world then
sail the impossible blue

Later still, when the deadline is near,
we could say together in fragile voices
that we are not sure if there’s a paradise ahead of us
but didn’t we just live one on earth?

Strangely, it’s already enough, my love
with the present to share and a future out there
We have the dream fulfilled and beyond the dream’s scope
poetry, imagination and a growing passion

Now I know that a bittersweet teardrop
can serve to moisten a dry old heart

Dissolve me; make a better man
 

 

~~~~~

 

tiananmen-square-2004-640x215.jpg
 

~~~~~

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November 18, 2007

World Samina Malik Day December 6th

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        I remember this sister from another forum

        I’m sure she is sorry for what has happend and didnt mean any harm by it

        May Allaah help her, prison is a horrible place

                –Niqaabis
                IslamicAwakening.com
   

_____

   

Samina Malik became the first woman convicted under Great Britain’s Terrorism Act. She wrote poetry about terrorist acts, such as how to behead. She downloaded files, such as the one called How To Win Hand-to-hand Fighting, a manual for a sniper rifle, and the (relatively useless) Mujahideen Poison Handbook by Abdel Azez. Such downloading the folks at Scotland Yard consider “a serious criminal offense.” (See Sean O’Neill’s article in The Times: Poetic shop assistant guilty of building library of terror.)

Writing is not doing. A writer needs to be able to write whatever comes to her. No matter what real terrorist activity Samina Malik may, may not, or may some day be into, her writing is not, and must not be considered terrorist activity.

Every poet, in pursuit of the creative, has to be able to explore and fail, just as people who sing most often cannot carry the tune. And we cannot be out giving poetry licenses to people before they can participate in such activity. Each one of us must have poetic license.

Samina Malik was affected by the videos of beheading that were on the web, and decided to try her hand at the horror genre. A writer needs to be able to research, and explore sensitive territory, such as the info she downloaded–even live it to some degree, vis a vis Jack Kerouac. Period. And whether she is imprisoned for it or not, the next writer will do the same, whether he is imprisoned for it or not, and then the next.

I wonder, following her notoriety, how many others have gone looking to explore that “terrorist” information–and if they are poets, how much bad poetry will come from it. I went looking to download it myself, and could not find the links, otherwise I would share them with you.

[Edited in Nov 26: al Qaeda manual. Thanks to and note: ian.]

If a link appears on my monitor, here in my home, just as if it appears on a bookshelf, here in my home, I will open it, as I should be free to do. My judgment, nobody else’s. Period. Imprison me if you want, but another good citizen will follow me in turn, and you can imprison her too, and the next.

Instead of prosecuting and imprisoning her, we should celebrate a World Samina Malik Day, when we all dress up as her, or as close to it as we can, and download the information she did, the jihad encyclopedia, the poisons handbook, the sniper and hand-to-hand combat manuals–and then write on it. She is due to be sentenced on December 6th. This should be the day. If we cannot find the material for download that she did, note both the failed beheading scene, how hand-to-hand combat is won creatively, and the impending beheading at the end of this scene in Steven Seagal’s Out for Justice (WARNING: FOUL LANGUAGE):

Out for Justice: Bar Scene (‘Anybody seen Richie?’):

Or find something that works even better for you, The Godfather maybe, some documentary, something with violence or horror.

Let’s also make her rich with a Samina Malik line of clothing. She represents the average person’s freedom on this shared Earth of ours.

Just as most every other poet who has tried his or her hand at erotica, war poetry, love poetry, and the horror genre, and has then written in support of Samina Malik, I too was affected by a killing and wrote a syllabic sonnet sequence about it. It is here: Saint Anselm and the Murder of Addie Hall in New Orleans on October 5, 2006. (Also, see Hari Kunzru’s article for The Guardian: Terror stricken. And read Noorjehan Barmania’s ‘I have much in common with Samina Malik’.)

I wish I knew more about how Wilfred Owen’s poetry was brought out at Ms. Malik’s trial, but he is a poet who was able to cast killing into poetry, a difficult thing to do. Like Malik’s, my stab at it doesn’t approach Owen’s:
   

.
   

by Wilfred Owen
   

Parable of the Old Men and the Young
   

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son. . . .
   

.
   

Even though Malik basically failed at it, some positives are that she cast the poem onto the page with care for line breaks, and made her writing very understandable. She’s sort of an advanced beginner like many of us, and I would encourage her to continue writing. Furthermore, the matter-of-factness has her readership recall terrorist activity so much so, that she got convicted as if she really were a terrorist.
   

.
   

recast from excerpts found on the web
   

by Samina Malik
   

How to Behead
   

Hold him
Tie the arms behind his back
And bandage his legs together
Just by the ankles
Blindfold the punk
So that he won’t hesitate as much
For on seeing the sharp pointy knife
He’ll begin to shake
And continuously scream like an eedyat
And jiggle like a jelly
Trust me–this will sure get you angry
It’s better to have at least two or three brothers by your side
Who can hold the fool
Because as soon as the warm sharp knife
Touches his naked flesh
He’ll come to know what’ll happen
It’s not as messy or as hard as some may think,
It’s all about the flow of the wrist.
No doubt that the punk will twitch and scream
But ignore the donkey’s ass
And continue to slice back and forth
You’ll feel the knife hit the wind and food pipe
But don’t stop
Continue with all your might.
About now you should feel the knife vibrate,
You can feel the warm heat being given off,
But this is due to the friction being caused.
   

.
   

Tomorrow, let’s all go and kill someone with her poems. We’ll print them out, and drop them onto people’s heads from rooftops. We’ll roll them into balls and throw them at passersby. We’ll roll them into tubesticks and hit people we approach over the head with them. We’ll get bad breath and recite them.

There are criticisms that her writing is not really poetry, that its main purpose is to incite terrorist activity. Can we call instructions for beheading poetry at all? Here is a poem, written by Harry Mathews, published by the Boston Review, and anthologized in The Best American Poetry 2002, wherein the instructions are how to make eggs, no metaphor, no symbols, no mystic “aha” experience: Butter and Eggs.

If there can be a poem about how to make eggs, then there can be a poem about how to kill. Indeed, there are many movies and many novels out there that instruct viewers on different ways people can be brought to death. We must keep our poets free. We must not silence them, either by cutting out their tongues, by killing them, nor by capturing them for imprisonment.

There is another side to this also, and that is Samina Malik: impressionable daughter of Great Britain. It’s a little late to be raising children, exposing them to world violence and such, telling them that Bush and Blair are criminals and should be hung like Hussein, and then telling them it’s not okay to write about it when they become young adults, that they will be jailed for it.

   


   

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mary-warnock-and-gore-vidal.jpg
On November 16th, the BBC radio program, World Have Your Say, discussed Samina Malik’s situation in terms of a thought crime. That segment begins 12:17 into the show and features Baroness Mary Warnock and Gore Vidal, along with several bloggers: BBC: WHYS: Bangladesh, thought crimes, the dollar (mp3) (while available).
   

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Some musical terrorists:
   

Killing an Arab, by The Cure:


   

Murder by Numbers, by The Police:


   

Cop Killer, by Ice T & Body Count (WARNING: FOUL LANGUAGE):


   

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155 blog posts on Samina Malik’s conviction:
   

جبهة التهييس الشعبية: في قضية سمينة مالك: عاجل لخدامين السيادة

مدونه الشاعر …ترحب بكم: سميه… كتبت شعر .. تبقى إرهابيه … وتخش السجن…..وتحيا الحريه الغربيه … posted by mohammed alsha3r

Ace of Spades HQ: British Law Convicts For Mere Possession of Records posted by Gabriel Malor

AcidDrip: Freedom to offend is part of freedom of speech

AcidDrip: “Lyrical Terrorist”–Samina Malik found Guilty

Alabama-Democrat: The Brits And Freedom posted by Altoid

Ben Aldin: Britain is no longer a free society

American Blog: The Age Of Thought Crime Has Begun posted by Ken

Anglofille: i am not a terrorist, just a writer

Behemoth Conspiracy: ‘Young Muslims ‘criminalised for harbouring silly thoughts…” posted by BTB

Rosie Bell: The Terrible Lyricist

Bibliobibuli: Britain’s Thought Police posted by Sharon Bakar

Bibliobibuli: Convicted . . . For Writing Poetry? posted by Sharon Bakar

Big Brother State: Poet Found Guilty of Terrorism posted by Winston Smith

Yahya Birt: Thought Crime comes to Britain

The Book Bitches: Guilty! . . . Er, for writing poetry? posted by Harlot

Book Blog: Is Writing Bad Poetry a Terrorist Act? posted by Keir Graff

Bookninja: Poetry as terror threat posted by George

Books Inq.: We link . . . posted by Frank Wilson

C L O S E R: Poetic (in)justice? posted by Martijn

C L O S E R: Terrorize your lyrics–Suspended sentence for Samina Malik posted by Martijn

The Chalybeate: Samina Malik posted by Moses

Chesler Chronicles: The Lyrical Terrorist Insists that her Poems are Meaningless posted by Phyllis Chesler

Chihuahuas Bite: From London to Salem . . . a journey of justice posted by Warrior Dog

Church of Virus: ‘Lyrical terrorist’ sentenced over extremist poetry posted by Blunderov

Circle of 13: “the inner monologue is in peril” posted by Augustine Touloupis

Citizen Sane: “Lyrical terrorist”? More like terrible lyricist.

Hugh Cook–Cancer Patient: Fascist British state hauls cute girl creative writer into court

Counterbalance: The lit life in los angeles: A New Twist on What Your Books Say About You posted by Callie Miller

Geoff Coupe’s Blog: The Mugwump Youth

Current: ‘Lyrical Terrorist’ Spared Jail posted by richjm

Dave’s Part: The Lyrical Terrorist versus Sturmgeist89 posted by David Osler

Deborama: Victim of laws against thoughts posted by Deb

Voyou Desoeuvre: Support Samina Malik

Done With Mirrors: Sad, Vicious, and Stupid: But is it criminal? posted by Callimachus

Done With Mirrors: Terror Poet Girl posted by Callimachus

The Dragon’s List Kung Fu Community: Tried for writing poetry posted by john100

Dublin Opinion: ‘You have been in many respects a complete enigma to me.’ posted by Conor McCabe

Edshugeo The GodMoor: Guilty Of Owning Manuals?

Edshugeo The GodMoor: Happy Samina Malik Day!

email blog: Free Samina Malik

EURSOC: Lyrical Terrorism: Self-censorship, Islamists and the art world

ex-lion tamer: a real life poetic terrorist?

FictionBitch: The Terrorism of Intellectual Repression posted by Elizabeth Baines

Free Samina Malik by Nawara Negm

Good Ol’ Boy: Lyrical Terrorist

GotPoetry.com News: Suspended Sentence for the ‘Lyrical Terrorist’ posted by Robert Verkaik

GotPoetry.com News: Update on The Lyrical Terrorist posted by chameleon (D.P.)

Great War Fiction: No Worse than Owen? posted by George Simmers

El Gringo Rumbero: Justice for Samina Malik!

The Guardian: Comment is free: An attack on liberty posted by Inayat Bunglawala

The Guardian: theblogbooks: Terrible poet, laughable terrorist posted by Shirley Dent

The Guardian: Comment is free: Don’t even think about it posted by Inayat Bunglawala

Herald Sun Blog: Gangsta in a hijab posted by Andrew Bolt

Heresy Corner: All the nice girls love Osama posted by Heresiarch

Heresy Corner: Why Free Speech Matters posted by Heresiarch

Helmintholog: A very quick further note on censorship posted by Andrew Brown

Hitchens Watch: With a legal system this effective, why should England tremble? posted by Christopher Hitchens

Hizb ut-Tahrir Britain: The crime of rhyme: the extraordinary case of Samina Malik post by Fahad Ansari

Hoff Limits: Talking with the lawman about poetry posted by Mike Hoffman

Hunting Monsters: Samina Malik Day: December 6th posted by ian

Hunting Monsters: Thoughtcrime or Lolcrime? posted by ian

Rupa Huq’s home on the web: Dubious Distinction

I Hate All of You: Thought Crimes posted by Hitler616

Index Research: Fox News: Guilty of Incitement to Terrorism? posted by Sarah Meyer

IndyBlogs: Minority Report: Thought crime coming to a town near you posted by Jerome Taylor

Islam in Europe: UK: ‘Young Muslims are being convicted of thought crimes’ posted by Esther

IslamicAwakening.com: 1st Sister Convicted Under Terrorism Act posted by Umm

Islamics: Gillian Gibbons and Samina Malik posted by Shukran

Islamophobia Watch: The lyrical non-terrorist posted by Martin Sullivan

Islamophobia Watch: Woman nicknamed ‘lyrical terrorist’ escapes jail sentence posted by Martin Sullivan in UK

Jangliss: “From Homer to 50 Cent, lonely and frustrated . . .” posted by John Angliss

Jdude–The Unstoppable Madman: Free speech

Late Arrival: The study of inference–Or how I learned to love the Romans posted by Daniel Snell

Lead Acetate: Potential versus kinetic ideas posted by E.M.

The Legal Satyricon: The “Lyrical Terrorist” posted by Prof. Marc J. Randazza

Liberal Review: The ‘Lyrical Terrorist’ Is Not a Terrorist posted by Rob Knight

Londonist: Bad Poetry Not a (Punishable) Offence posted by Julie PH

Look High and Low: No-one is safe posted by Mark

Clattery MacHinery on Poetry: Today is World Samina Malik Day: Terrorize your lyrics

Mac Uaid: Lyrical Terrorist and the right to be offensive posted by Liam Mac Uaid

The Mail: Free speech is for nasty people, not nice ones posted by Peter Hitchens

MakeHeadline.com: [wvns] British Muslim Found “Guilty” of Poetry posted by amirza

La Mancha: I wonder how many Italians own Nazi paraphernalia posted by Carlos

Manifesto Club campaign: Free the ‘lyrical terrorist’ post by Josie Appleton

Masopher’s Mind: There is no reason we can’t be civil, is there? post by Masochist

The memoirs of Lord Snooty: Lyrical Terrorists posted by Cheese Messiah

Dave Miller Art Blog: Lyrical Terrorist

Dave Miller Art Blog: samina malik day december 6th

Monkeyboy: Lyrical Terrorism posted by Jack

MPACUK: ‘Lyrical Terrorist’ found guilty posted by Dr Diavolo

Muslamics: Muslim Poetess Arrested for Extremist Poetry posted by Yesi King

Nation of Shopkeepers: What exactly is a terrorist document? posted by Harry Haddock

Natural yogurt: Free Samina Malik The days tick by . . . posted by Stephen Clynes

Natural yogurt: Fantasy or reality? posted by Stephen Clynes

Neil’s Site: Islamic Demonstrations

Newswatch: ‘Lyrical Terrorist’ spared jail posted by Newsjunky

November 30: When poems are against the law posted by Kathleen

Obsolete: From lyrical to physical. posted by septicisle

The Pamphleteer: On Lyrical Terrorism posted by Finnieston Crane

paxil online: Today is World Samina Malik Day: Terrorize your lyrics « Clattery MacHinery on Poetry posted by usu

PenShells: Witnessing posted by Bren101

thepeoplesvoice.org: ‘Lyrical terrorist’ convicted over hate records

www.PetitionOnline.com: Free Samina Malik

Poetry & Poets in Rags: News at Eleven (Back Page): I think I might be in trouble. posted by Rus Bowden

Poetry & Poets in Rags: News at Eleven: [Samina Malik] told the court posted by Rus Bowden

Poetry & Poets in Rags: November 20th forum announcement posted by Rus Bowden

Poetry & Poets in Rags: November 27th forum announcement posted by Rus Bowden

The Political News You Need to Know: Today is World Samina Malik Day: Terrorize your lyrics

Praxis: Thoughtcrime in the U.K.

prisonlawinsideout: ‘Lyrical terrorist’ sentenced over extremist poetry posted by John Hirst Hull

Probablyblonde: The mad woman in the bedroom

Probablyblonde: Thoughtcrime and lyrical terrorism

Rachel from north London: The Lyrical Terrorist

Ramblings of the Bearded One: Guilty of writing dodgy poetry posted by Kim Ayres

Random Comments from South London: Lyrical terrorist gets suspended sentence posted by secretlondon

readership: Lyrical Terrorist posted by Бронза

Reasonable Mahmoud: The Stench Of Hypocrisy . . . posted by Avenger

Penny Red: Thoughts on Lyrical Terrorism.

Red Pepper: Thoughtcrime and Samina Malik posted by Neruda

resak11’s weblog: Lyrical terrorist sentenced for poetry Guardian Unlimited

Rule 9: World Samina Malik Day December 6th ~9 posted by Rus Bowden

Sawtul Islam: Where are you oh Hakam?!

The Sharp Side: Lyrical terrorism posted by Ellis

The Soul of Man Under Capitalism: Thought Crimes posted by V

The Spectator: Free speech and the ‘lyrical terrorist’ posted by Ron Liddle

SportsBikes.net: Prosecutor will not charge teacher for Columbine blog posting posted by 750rider

The state we’re in: Thought crime

Strange Stuff: Lyrical Terrorism posted by Chris

Strange Stuff: Lyrical? Terrorist? posted by Chris

Subjects Are Silly: “Lyrical Terrorism” and the theory of Free Rights posted by Chelsea

sweetbands: England from the Blogosphere: World Samina Malik Day December 6th posted by Kurt Torres

Telegraph: The curious case of the lyrical terrorist posted by Ceri Radford

Ten Percent: War Crimes Vs. Thoughtcrime posted by RickB

This Guy is Teaching Abroad: Be Careful What You Read and Say posted by Guy Courchesne

Through The Scary Door: The lyrical terrorist goes down posted by Roobin

Times Online: Don’t ban the lyricist posted by Shirley Dent

Times Online: Faith Central: Lyrical terrorist defended posted by Libby Purves

Times Online: Muslims ‘criminalised for silly thoughts’ posted by Sean O’Neill: Crime and Security Editor

Jonathan Turley: British Convict “Lyrical Terrorist”–Muslim Who Merely Wrote About Beheadings

UncommonSense: British woman convicted of writing terrorist poetry

The Waters: World Samina Malik Day December 6th

Westolowski: OK. Poetry still sucks. But rap sucks worse.

ChristopherWhite.info: Crimes against literature?

Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?: The Blair Ditch Project posted by Ian

Why Dont You Blog?: Crime, Confusion and the Littlejohn Idiocy posted by TW

Wild Poetry Forum: World Samina Malik Day December 6th

World Have Your Say (BBC): 16 Nov 07 posted by Peter

World Politics Review: World Samina Malik Day December 6th

Tim Worstall: What a Wonderful Country

Wrath of Mjolnir: Free Speech?

A Writer’s Life: Wait posted by John Siddique

WSP 400: Samina Malik posted by Jessica Posner

Your Society: The Terrible Lyricist – is She also a Lyrical Terrorist? posted by Gregers Friisberg

zidouta.com: Ready Made Terrorism posted by Herman van Iperen

   

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