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Paul D. Miller
I'm a writer, artist and musician who really believes that things can change for the better.
I'm a writer, artist and musician who really believes that things can change for the better.

Paul D.'s posts

PEOPLE!!! We had a really successful national launch of The Birth of a Movement film last night!! It's one of the top rated films on PBS! Thanks for your support! You can still watch the full film on Independent Lens. I did the music for the film! Check it!

I did the score for this podcast series on politics narrated by best selling author (and friend) Jeremy Scahill. It's narrated with Seymour Hersh, Naomi Klein, Glenn Greenwald and it'll be every week. This is political analysis for our time. Check it! It's #3 on iTunes and it just came out!

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I am honored and humbled by tonight's concert - Brooklyn Youth Chorus bought the house DOWN!! Plus Mr Reed killed it!!! You missed it? You can see it again at BAM in the main Opera House in May. There'll be promotional tracks and remixes available in a bit. Yes - we did it. Packed house, almost sold out and totally filled with innovative compositions. Hear the rehearsal here

see you in a while NYC!!! 

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REHEARSAL!! I'm in NYC gearing up for my concert this weekend with the AMAZING Brooklyn Youth Chorus!! These are some amazingly talented kids!! This is our rehearsal yesterday with Mr Reed on lead vocals! This sh*t is killin' it!!! International Contemporary Ensemble is playing my compositions as well. The concert is going to be AMAZING!!! Info -

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Today I'm reminded of a poem by one of my favorite writers, Langston Hughes in 1936. I'm posting it because I cannot let this election make me lose faith in humanity. Read on...

Let America Be America Again
By Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the black man bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the black man, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The abuse and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again


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Check out this video on YouTube:

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Totally Kafkaesque 

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Exclusive: Most Americans support torture against terror suspects - poll | Reuters
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