The miniature internment camp comes in three colors: Cream, Espresso, and Cool Gray. Its features include indoor/outdoor versatility, as it has reversible legs that have the option of adding stakes to keep it securely in place if placed outdoors. The camp itself is rather spacious for a toddler: the camp is over 18 square feet and is 28 inches tall. Some political pundits have asked “is it TOO spacious for toddlers?” The camp is also easily transported from location to location to give your toddler a real feel for life as an unlawfully detained citizen: the gate folds quickly so you can move your little tyke from undisclosed location to undisclosed location quicker than Dick Cheney can say “waterboarding isn’t torture.” And since it has no tools required for assembly, you don’t have to worry about losing a wrench or a potential uprising from unruly inmates at the camp.
When you sing I'm singing with you liberty
When you cry I cry with you in sorrow
When you suffer I'm praying for you liberty
For your struggles will bring us a new tomorrow
Days of sad darkness and fear must one day crumble
For the force of your kindness and love make them tremble
When you sing I'm singing with you liberty
In the void of your absence I keep searching for you
Who are you dream illusion or just reality
Faith ideal desire revolution
I believe you're the symbol of our humanity
Lighting up the world for eternity
I can see why men die to defend you
Try to guard to protect and attend you
When you sing I'm singing with you liberty
With your tears or your joys I love you
Let us sing and rejoice make our own history
Songs of hope with one voice guide us to victory
Liberty, Liberty
Read more: Nana Mouskouri - Song For Liberty Lyrics | MetroLyrics
McAllen, Tx is in this area; that's where Chris Hayes was reporting from yesterday, where the ICE baby jails are.
15 inches have fallen already in some areas.
FLASH FLOOD WARNING FROM 6:27AM CDT WED UNTIL 10:30AM CDT WED THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN BROWNSVILLE HAS ISSUED A * FLASH FLOOD WARNING FOR... SOUTHEASTERN HIDALGO COUNTY IN DEEP SOUTH TEXAS... NORTHWESTERN CAMERON COUNTY IN DEEP SOUTH TEXAS... * UNTIL 1030 AM CDT. * AT 625 AM CDT, DOPPLER RADAR INDICATED THUNDERSTORMS PRODUCING HEAVY RAIN ACROSS THE WARNED AREA. UP TO 15 INCHES OF RAIN HAVE ALREADY FALLEN WITHIN THE WARNED AREA. FLASH FLOODING IS EXPECTED TO CONTINUE. * SOME LOCATIONS THAT WILL EXPERIENCE FLOODING INCLUDE... HARLINGEN, WESLACO, SAN BENITO, MERCEDES, LA FERIA, PROGRESO, EDCOUCH, SANTA ROSA, RIO HONDO AND LA VILLA. PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS... TURN AROUND, DON'T DROWN WHEN ENCOUNTERING FLOODED ROADS. MOST FLOOD DEATHS OCCUR IN VEHICLES. PLEASE REPORT FLOODING TO YOUR LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCY WHEN YOU CAN DO SO SAFELY. A FLASH FLOOD WARNING MEANS THAT FLOODING IS IMMINENT OR OCCURRING. IF YOU ARE IN THE WARNED AREA MOVE TO HIGHER GROUND IMMEDIATELY. RESIDENTS LIVING ALONG STREAMS AND CREEKS SHOULD TAKE IMMEDIATE PRECAUTIONS TO PROTECT LIFE AND PROPERTY.
León Gieco y Agarrate Catalina - "De Igual a Igual"
I’m a Bolivian in Italy,
a Colombian in New York,
a South American in Spain
and a Paraguayan in Asuncion.
I’m a Spaniard in Argentina
and a German in El Salvador
I’m a Frenchman gone to Chile
and a Japanese in Ecuador
The world is furnished
with woods from Brazil
and there’s big holes
in the missionary jungle
Europe has forgotten
the ships she sent this way
People wounded by the wars
were rescued by this land
If you ask me to go back where I came from
I’ll ask you to take your enterprises from my country
and that’s the way it’s going to be, speaking between us equals
and that’s the way it’s going to be, speaking between us equals
Tico, Nica, from Borinquen,
Arjo, Mejo, from Panamá
form a line at the embassy
to achieve their dream
While the Thief
full of precedent
asks for immigration papers
demanded by the president
If you ask me to go back where I came from
I’ll ask you to take your enterprises from my country
and that’s the way it’s going to be, speaking between us equals
and that’s the way it’s going to be, speaking between us equals
Those so-called illegals
that have no documents
lose their faith
without work or hope
The illegals are those
That let Pinochet get away
While England boasted
of its honor and it’s laws
If you ask me to go back where I came from
I’ll ask you to take your enterprises from my country
and that’s the way it’s going to be, speaking between us equals
and that’s the way it’s going to be, speaking between us equals
This is the last of a series of poems that Miguel Hernández writes on toilet paper while imprisoned in Madrid during the war. The poet had received a letter from his wife where she told him that both her newly born and herself only had bread and onion to eat, thus the Onion Lullaby, which was written as an answer. These poems were only published in Buenos Aires, Argentina after the poet's death and during the ensuing dictatorship in Spain.
Lullaby of the onion
The onion is frost
shut in and poor.
Frost of your days
and of my nights.
Hunger and onion,
black ice and frost
large and round.
My little boy
was in hunger's cradle.
He was nursed
on onion blood.
But your blood
is frosted with sugar,
onion and hunger.
A dark woman
dissolved in moonlight
pours herself thread by thread
into the cradle.
Laugh, son,
you can swallow the moon
when you want to.
Lark of my house,
keep laughing.
The laughter in your eyes
is the light of the world.
Laugh so much
that my soul, hearing you,
will beat in space.
Your laughter frees me,
gives me wings.
It sweeps away my loneliness,
knocks down my cell.
Mouth that flies,
heart that turns
to lightning on your lips.
Your laughter is
the sharpest sword,
conqueror of flowers
and larks.
Rival of the sun.
Future of my bones
and of my love.
The flesh fluttering,
the sudden eyelid,
and the baby is rosier
than ever.
How many linnets
take off, wings fluttering,
from your body!
I woke up from childhood:
don't you wake up.
I have to frown:
always laugh.
Keep to your cradle,
defending laughter
feather by feather.
Yours is a flight so high,
so wide
that your body is a sky
newly born.
If only I could climb
to the origin
of your flight!
Eight months old you laugh
with five orange blossoms.
With five little
ferocities.
With five teeth
like five young
jasmine blossoms.
They will be the frontier
of tomorrow's kisses
when you feel your teeth
as weapons,
when you feel a flame
running toward your gums
driving toward the centre.
Fly away, son, on the double
moon of the breast:
it is saddened by onion,
you are satisfied.
Don't let go.
Don't find out what's happening,
or what goes on.
Nanas de la cebolla
La cebolla es escarcha
cerrada y pobre:
escarcha de tus días
y de mis noches.
Hambre y cebolla:
hielo negro y escarcha
grande y redonda.
En la cuna del hambre
mi niño estaba.
Con sangre de cebolla
se amamantaba.
Pero tu sangre,
escarchada de azúcar,
cebolla y hambre.
Una mujer morena,
resuelta en luna,
se derrama hilo a hilo
sobre la cuna.
Ríete, niño,
que te tragas la luna
cuando es preciso.
Alondra de mi casa,
ríete mucho.
Es tu risa en los ojos
la luz del mundo.
Ríete tanto
que en el alma al oírte,
bata el espacio.
Tu risa me hace libre,
me pone alas.
Soledades me quita,
cárcel me arranca.
Boca que vuela,
corazón que en tus labios
relampaguea.
Es tu risa la espada
más victoriosa.
Vencedor de las flores
y las alondras.
Rival del sol.
Porvenir de mis huesos
y de mi amor.
La carne aleteante,
súbito el párpado,
el vivir como nunca
coloreado.
¡Cuánto jilguero
se remonta, aletea,
desde tu cuerpo!
Desperté de ser niño.
Nunca despiertes.
Triste llevo la boca.
Ríete siempre.
Siempre en la cuna,
defendiendo la risa
pluma por pluma.
Ser de vuelo tan alto,
tan extendido,
que tu carne parece
cielo cernido.
¡Si yo pudiera
remontarme al origen
de tu carrera!
Al octavo mes ríes
con cinco azahares.
Con cinco diminutas
ferocidades.
Con cinco dientes
como cinco jazmines
adolescentes.
Frontera de los besos
serán mañana,
cuando en la dentadura
sientas un arma.
Sientas un fuego
correr dientes abajo
buscando el centro.
Vuela niño en la doble
luna del pecho.
Él, triste de cebolla.
Tú, satisfecho.
No te derrumbes.
No sepas lo que pasa
ni lo que ocurre.
