William Adams, Texas Judge Who Beat Daughter On Video, Returns To Bench

William AdamsWilliam Adams, Texas Judge Who Beat Daughter On Video, Returns To Bench

ROCKPORT, Texas — A Texas judge seen viciously beating his then-teenage daughter in a video she posted online last year returned to the bench Wednesday after a yearlong suspension.

William Adams, the top judge in coastal Texas’ Aransas County, worked through a normal docket of juvenile cases, divorces and estate settlements on his first day back. He said nothing to address the incident that kept him off the bench for a year, the Corpus Christi Caller-Times reported.

The nearly 8-minute video was viewed millions of time on the Internet. In it, Adams is seen lashing his then-16-year-old daughter Hillary on her legs more than a dozen times and growing increasingly irate while she screams and refuses to turn over on a bed to be beaten. At one point the father screams: “Lay down or I’ll spank you in your (expletive) face.”

AMIRI BARAKA’S FIRST FAMILY Black Arts Movement in 1965

Amiri Baraka, Outspoken Poet Imamu Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones), died this week at the age of seventy-nine, as a famous poet who initiated the powerful Black Arts Movement in 1965, or as the man whose groundbreaking plays, ranging from 1964’s “Dutchman,” to 1969’s “Four Black Revolutionary Plays,” changed what was possible on the American stage; we just knew him as Kellie and Lisa’s father, and Hettie’s former husband. I remember the thrill of climbing the steps to their apartment in the East Village with my friend Kathy. It was a warren of rooms tidily kept and filled with books and papers and welcoming love—just the kind of haven burgeoning artists such as Kathy and my teen-aged self were learning to seek out in a universe, which, we could already feel, had few safe harbors for people like us. AMIRI BARAKA’S FIRST FAMILY

A Black Poem for Amiri Baraka


A Black Poem for Amiri Baraka


We want a black poem. And a
Black World.
Let the world be a Black Poem
And Let All Black People Speak This Poem

 poems that kill.”
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
Guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
And take their weapons leaving them dead
    With tongues pulled out and sent to Ireland. Knockoff
Poems for dope selling wops or slick halfwhite
Politicians Airplane poems, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . .tuhtuhtuhtuhtuhtuhtuhtuhtuhtuh
. . .rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . . Setting fire and death to
 Whities ass.


http://poetry.rapgenius.com/Amiri-baraka-dope-annotated lazy niggers chained theyselves and threw
        they own black asses in the bottom
     of the boats, [(well now that you mention it King
     Assblackuwasi helped throw yr ass in
     the bottom of the boat, yo mamma, wife, and
        you never seed em no more)] must
     a been the devil, gimme your money put your
        money on this plate, heaven be here soon,
     just got to die, just got to stop living, close yr
        eyes stop
     breathin and bammm-O heaven be here, you
        have all a what you need, Bam-O
     all a sudden, heaven be here, you have all you
        need, that assembly line
     you work on will dissolve in thin air owowoo!
        owowoo! Just gotta die
     just gotta die, this ol world ain’t nuthin, must be
        the devil got you
     thinkin so, it cain be rockefeller, it cain be mor-
        gan, it caint be capitalism
     it caint be national oppression owow! No Way!
        Now go back to work and cool
     it, go back to work and lay back, just a little
        while longer till you pass
     its all gonna be alright once you gone. gimme
        that last bitta silver you got
     stashed there sister, gimme that dust now broth-
        er man, itll be ok on the
     other side, yo soul be clean be washed pure
        white, yes. yes. yes. owow.
     now go back to work, go to sleep, yes, go to
        sleep, go back to work, yes
     owow. owow. uuuuuuuuuu, uuuuuuuuuuu,
        uuuuuuuuuuu. yes, uuuuuuu. yes.
     a men.

Who will be Amiri again? Who is the Rage in the Street? Who will turn the Dictionary into a hornet’s nest? Whose mouth will be a Jazz Gatling Gun?

Like a volcano in your sleep, exploding in your life, in your brain, in yourself.  Who will make the Final Call to the dead! Who will write poems with dynamite! Who will shout questions that shatter our porcelain sex! Who will explode our fear!

Whooooo and Who and Whoooooooooooooooooooooooo!