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Lolo, Manse and youth in 2021 Kanaval song video.png
Boukamn 2021 Kanval song.png

Two people in Haiti whom I especially admire wrote email responses to the

piece below.

Madame Marie-Marthe Balin Franck Paul wrote: 'Magnifique!'

Lòlò of Boukman Eksperyans wrote: 'So beautiful! Paul, this one particularly touched me a lot. It will touch a lot of people.... You see clearly what's going on with their "vaccine". They cannot fool us anymore!! Money, Control ...

Thank you Don Paul. The Child is clever and strong!!!'

It feels like we can win, this month. Abuse and nonsense grow too much. The

poster to your right links to 'OmniCon' and much else. 

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Lòlò and Manzè and youth in the splendid Boukman Eksperyans' 

2021 Kanaval song and video.

The Child Is Clever And The Child Is Strong


      The child is clever and the child is strong

      The child asks why we can’t see what’s wrong


How many must gasp? How many must die?

How many must clutch their chests or heads and writhe?

How many more studies?

How many more proofs that Corporations’

And Governments’ COVID shots don’t work?

How many more proofs of IVM and HCQ?

How many lives saved in India and Peru?

How many millions more lost in our Americas?

How many pilots? How many actors?

How many athletes, old and young?

How many teen-agers, students, lovers

Seized and stricken before their careers begin?

How many heart-attacks will it take

Before you Ruling Few
Know that your shots are not good for our health?


Ah, but you know—there’s the foul rub!

You knew all along that your shots must kill.

“Seven billion must take it,” said your boy Bill.

Yes, and now: "They don’t have a choice." 

They must take poisons

For we Few to do our worst

And--as our sickness thinks--best cleansing of the Earth.


Ah, and we know you all,
The small Few of you, now.

We see through your lies like 

Fire through glass will burn grass.

We see through your Summits

Like private-jets burn gas.

We know how you wish to eat, drink

And be “happy” with us gone from the Earth.


Ah, that’s your dream—
Treasures untold.

A United Nations of chipped slaves

Who won’t know enough to think or create—

Who’ll accept whatever abuse

Is force-fed through screens you own too—

Who’ll bend and bark like a Biden to your bidding

With what minds they have left just a haze and a glaze.


Ah, but we’re HERE, still here and NOW—

Seven billion loving, clever creatures

Strong as all the tools and miracles

Our God and Gods have given us,

Centuries long. We’re the Many,

You in your Castles and Tombs are the Few.

We’ll leave your Banks for a world of worlds of our own.


                                                   Don Paul, Nov. 8, 2:30 a.m.

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