The mission of The Gathering is to build an Intergenerational, movement, rooted in history, cultures and non-violent direct action to heal communities, build collective strength and generate an environment of hope and opportunity.
Civil rights and social justice organizations have come to understand that collective action on a national basis is required to stop child incarceration and challenge the immoral process which perpetuates an unjust justice system. These groups are working under extremely difficult circumstances and many of them with little or no resources. The Gathering is a national movement that creates a coordinated space to 1) fortify relationships between regional groups, 2) support local endeavors and 3) enhance the ongoing organizing of non-violent direct action training. Central to its mission is strengthening our moral environment.
- “a project of tides center” -
"The Gathering" is a project of Tides Center 501c3
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The truth shall set us free.
By: Curly X
My friend, mentor, leader and Brother,
They called you Rebel, but those are all lies.
I know your Nobel, but they say you took a breather,
I know your no actor, your past mentality dies.
The tears that runs down your cheek,
Brother, it will never make you weak.
THEY have given you a sneak peak,
25 years to life, is nothing meek.
They can cage your body, but never you’re Spirit,
Fight long, Alex to regain your innocence.
Never be PERPLEX, just know you’re a puppet,
They can’t cage your mind, you have the brilliance.
The tears pouring from the eyes of your family,
Brother, know they are not done faintly.
They have given your something, freely,
You have to fight with your heart clean, fully.
All I know of you is good and always braver,
Your gang days, long gone, the new Alex has arise.
You probably think everything around you is bleaker,
But sooner or later, you’re going to have tears, happy cries.
The tears from upon my face,
This system is sick, and full of disgrace.
Your name they constantly deface,
So all your hard work you've have done, they can't erase.
This poem is food for your soul,
Something to fill the lonely nights and console.
You will never be the man in that wall hole,
When will THEY know that you play a positive role?
When will THEY realize we don’t belong in these hellholes?
When will THEY realize we don’t sleep on bedrolls?
When will THEY realize that peace is our ultimate goal?
When will THEY realize that were in control?
When will THEY realize that you’re not on the payroll?
When will THEY realize that you have been steamrolled?
When will THEY realize that YOU and ME are people?
When will THEY realize?
That these prisons and lies are destroying or cultural lives.
By: Curly X
A life on an innocent child,
Nine year old daughter wrongly killed and profiled.
Murdered, gun down by hate with a smile,
These monsters envelope life with a mobster reviled.
Two groups, one white the other brown,
In an eternal strife for power all around.
“Lowlife father, dealt in the drugs”
I say a victim of fatherless lives and motherless hugs.
“Lowlife killer, dealt in death blows”
I say victim of fatherless captives and motherless hoboes.
A war on THIS border felt deep in the heart of poets,
Cyclone tears of mothers, and men, who don’t show it.
A life of an innocent child,
A human being wrongly taken and profiled,
Murdered, in a rundown town, by a fate, determined by the color of her skin,
KKK isn’t dead, they just have new friends, that love to sin.
Minutemen henchmen, spew hate about the freemen for the pressmen.
I feel depressed men.
Poet’s unit to fight against night life dimes and hate crimes,
A life of an innocent child,
Beckons from the grave, for your brave words that sends shockwaves,
A life of an innocent child,
Reckons there needs to be justice for her and the many others.
A life of an innocent child,
Not brown, white, black, alien, illegal, but human.
A life of an innocent child,
A child. A child. A child.
Murdered. Murdered. Murdered.
Need I say more, but I have to write to make you explore,
The violence instance within our human conscious that…
Ravages our children.
This murder was chilling, even more than other killings.
For a heart filed with hate to eliminate a child without any innate knowledge of…..
You and me, us and them, black and white, mine and mine, I WIN YOU LOSE.
If it takes a child’s life to win, I’ll rather quite the game.
And forever remember her name, Brisenia Flores.
It was nice seeing you at the Sweat. I hope I made sense during the circle. It was nice that we were able to meet with all those yound people and have a chance to share.
Peace
Thats perfect. On May 23rd, I am holding a healing cricle for the homies from Maryland and VA.
And on June 7th, we are having a sweat lodge for one of the Elders, that has follen ill.
I hope you can make aleast one of the events.
peace
By: Curly X
we fought this war for our own land,
we lost that fight, they chopped off our hands.
“DON’T SPEAK YOUR LANGUAGE, NOTHING READ”
“All WE WANT IS WHITE NOT RED”
we fought this war for our own land,
we lost that fight, they plopped cuffs on hands.
“DON’T CROSS THIS BORDER INTO TOWN”
“All WE WANT IS WHITE NOT BROWN”
we fought this war for our own land,
we fight it still with our own hands.
“DON’T SPEAK UP SPIC, DON’T PICK A FIGHT”
“I JUST WISH YOU WERE ALL SNOW-WHITE’
We fight this war for our own land,
I can’t be white and join your Klan.
“YOU WILL LOSE, THERE WILL BE BLOODSHED”
“THIS DAY WILL YOU PEOPLE DREAD”
We fight this war for our own land,
Eventually, you will see we all bleed red.
This is the road that I will choose,
And in this fight YOU will lose.
“NO, YOU CAN’T”
“SI, SE PUEDE, AND YES WE CAN”
How have you been. So, when you coming back to VA.
peace
p.s. i don't think there are any motorhead shows coming up so when am i gonna see you in a pit again?
By: Curly X
This poem is dedicated to Oscar Grant and the other Oscar Grant’s
Bullets piercing the bodies of my people,
I thought the constitution said we are all equal.
Puppets in this world voicing our sad stories,
Eyeballs filled with sanction killings by police sissies.
When will the shooting stop from the hired guns,
Good men die while marksmen freely run.
Mothers hanging on to the last breath of there child,
Minutes go by and she grows more, wild.
Murders are banging Her heart to death,
Riots seem old, it outgrows the poor, and defiles.
Bigots were crushed by the hands of peaceful men,
Cries didn’t come from guns, but from there mouth and pen.
Lead an army of soldiers with guns and rocks, and we will be crushed,
Because violence begets violence, when we are rushed.
Heal our broken hearts with sage and gospel song,
The real ordeal is to fix the pain of wrong.
Forgive and forget, seems to far fetch,
But I promise, you,
Brother Killing Brother, Sister Killing Sister,
Others shooting others to enact revenge,
Its like rhyme with no reason, it doesn’t end.
I want to thank Paradise, for being my inspiration. I hope that our words reach Oakland, and we can be there for them, and heal, organize, and do things the right way. Because you and I know, riots are what the oppressor wants. It gives them a reason to oppress. Destroy the violence, and they have no tools against us.
Peace and Love