“Troy Davis was convicted of murdering a Georgia police officer in 1991. Nearly two decades later, Davis remains on death row — even though the case against him has fallen apart.
The case against him consisted entirely of witness testimony which contained inconsistencies even at the time of the trial. Since then, all but two of the state’s non-police witnesses from the trial have recanted or contradicted their testimony.
Many of these witnesses have stated in sworn affidavits that they were pressured or coerced by police into testifying or signing statements against Troy Davis.
One of the two witnesses who has not recanted his testimony is Sylvester “Red” Coles — the principle alternative suspect, according to the defense, against whom there is new evidence implicating him as the gunman. Nine individuals have signed affidavits implicating Sylvester Coles.
Breaking News: An execution date for Troy Davis is scheduled for September 21!  In the days before Davis’ execution, the Georgia Board of Pardons & Paroles will hold a final clemency hearing – a final chance to prevent Troy Davis from being executed.

(from Amnesty International)

visit http://troyanthonydavis.org and find out how you can stand up and say “I am Troy Davis” and stop the execution.

The Executioner’s Song video
By Cassandra Tribe

My hour of worship is midnight.
The moon bright altar flame.
I am the hope
of forgotten men.
God in a world without blame.

The cross blankets body thought. 
Sometimes it cushions with deed.
Food is proof of kindness, 
kindness bargained for peace.

Prayers are said.
Permission loomed.
So it begins.
Death enters the room.

The life that waited,
retreats from the world.
The soul is forgotten. 
The body pieced by worms.

Death will go back to living,
until he is needed again.
Memory will be argued 
by no one called a friend.

Compared to a soldier feted
for killing in the name of caprice,
death in the peace is kept hidden,
blind justice fails its increase.

Even on 
battlefield, there is no face.
Even in 
war, rules contain blame. 
At home,
where soldiers are bootless,
death is recruited and paid.
Service requested and rendered,
secrecy hides all blame.

Judas fed coins to soil,
the only seeds that ever grew,
trees to watch the world,
and man as he stumbles through.

Bright moon finds swaying face
to hide and reveal again,
flashes of effort misplaced,
spun chance revealed, forsaken.

In solemn place,
the body strapped down and blinded, 
still communicates.
pressed wafer provides the food,
food to assuage the weak, 
leaving the body hungry,
crying one last speech.

Bright moon finds swaying face
to hide and reveal again,
flashes of effort misplaced,
spun chance revealed, forsaken.

I have gone 
to husbands who were fathers,
I have gone 
to wives who were mothers,
wanting them to serve, solid food of better.
The plate they gave me was empty,
‘though ’twas turned just so,
hoping I wouldn’t notice 
broke finish mold and go. 

Brother and sister after,
forgot me and argued on how, 
when wine had been flowing so freely,
their cups were empty now.
Not agreeing with any reason,
they decided each other to slur,
the wine soaked into the ground,
no pool of bliss any more.

No one in this world, 
that loves its secrets revealed,
wants to know
the why of I am.
Even the Christ on the Hill,
was asked the source of his plan.

I am the secret son of faith
who chose a different stand,
following words inspired,
but written by human hand.

My temples you’ll find in castles,
filled with forgotten men,
Each of them sacrifice,
food to man’s growing sin, 
I am the one who goes on.
The one who should be condemned,
but I make the sleep of the world,
dismissive of kin.

One day the world
will go blind
and in blindness finally see.
The flame on my altar will fade,
and midnight will never be.

Till then,
I am always invited, 
false promise of life believed,
for I am the Christ of the Chamber,
these castles only I enter,
yet rule I both land and man.

My hour of worship is midnight.
The moon bright altar flame.
I am the hope
of forgotten men.
God in a world without blame.

c.2011. Cassandra Tribe. All Rights Reserved.


About cassandratribe

"There are few artists that can do what Cassandra Tribe does. Whether with her poetry, her videos or her blog, Cassandra examines the truths that most of us can never come close to realizing and shows it for what it is, both beautiful and frightening at the same time. She exposes our inner-most workings like the cross-section of a powerful but flawed machine, our gears and springs, nuts and bolts removed and laid out before us. She is a true artist. Her new video, Requiem for a God, is the latest example of Cassandra's willingness to tear open and examine the very things that make us human. Shooting the film entirely by herself, she also eliminates all the little excuses we come up with to keep us from ourselves and our truth. You see, even when she's not trying to be, Cassandra Tribe is a beacon of truth and humanity in this darkest of worlds." (Michael E. Quigg, The Culture Network, June 2009)
This entry was posted in current events, poem, poetry, racism, responsibility and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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