LIFEINSLUM

In the mess of my country Life welds itself to somnambulism

Thursday 13 October, 2016 members of Democratic Socialist Movement (DSM) Ajegunle branch under the aegis of Ajegunle People and Communities (AP & C) attended a Leadership meeting called by the

  At exactly 4:30pm on 22 September, 2016 the okada riders in their numbers gathered at the usual convergence to keep the fire of the struggle burning so it can touch the heaven against police brutality and the government

Colombia has begun grappling with the astonishing rejection by voters of a peace deal to end 52 years of war with Farc guerrillas , after a referendum on Sunday which has thrown the country into a state of confusion and uncertainty. Reeling from the stunning defeat for the deal that took four years of arduous negotiations to conclude, both the government and the Farc have said they will persist in seeking peace for the country after 50.2% of voters rejected the agreement, to 49.7% who approved it. “Peace is here to stay,” Rodrigo Londoño, the Farc commander-in-chief known by the nom de guerre Timochenko, said in a video statement from Havana on Monday, adding that the rebel group’s members would not return to hostilities in a war that has cost more than 220,000 lives and displaced more than 6 million from their homes. His comments echoed a speech after the results were released on Sunday night by Colombia’s president, Juan Manuel Santos, who has staked his presiden

Tuesday March 22 nd , 2016 on the very hour of 6:30am, which was generally agreed in the last meeting of 20 th March, 2016 (Sunday) that the people should

I Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold. Whom no compassion fleers Or makes their feet Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers. The front line withers, But they are troops who fade, not flowers For poets’ tearful fooling: Men, gaps for filling: Losses, who might have fought Longer; but no one bothers. II And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling, And Chance’s strange arithmetic

The young men of the world Are condemned to death. They have been called up to die For the crime of their fathers. The young men of the world, The growing, the ripening fruit, Have been torn from their branches, While the memory of the blossom Is sweet in women's hearts; They have been cast for a cruel purpose Into the mashing-press and furnace. The young men of the world Look into each other's eyes, And read there the same words: Not yet! Not yet! But soon perhaps, and perhaps certain. The young men of the world No longer possess the road: The road possesses them. They no longer inherit the earth: The earth inherits them. They are no longer the masters of fire: Fire is their master; They serve him, he destroys them. They no longer rule the waters: The genius of the seas Has invented a new monster, And they fly from its teeth. They no longer breathe freely: The genius of the air Has contrived a new terror That rends them into pieces. The youn