Bruce Whealton: Career, Interests and Values

Ok, Chapel HIll is about the least dangerous, least violent place I’ve ever been.  It is made up of families, children but mostly the University Students, Faculty and Staff.  This is just an unbelievable scene to see police with assault rifles on Franklin Street!!!

One hears Chants of “Shame.” and “Takes a lotta guts to pull an assault rifle on a little girl.  Who do they serve – Well’s Fargo.  Who do they Protect – Well’s Fargo.”

Police The Army of the Rich!!!

Police The Army of the Rich!!!

Police The Army of the Rich!!!

“Shame!!!  Shame!!!”

Image via Wikipedia

A group from the Anarachist Book Fair (not entirely affiliated with Occupy Chapel Hill) decided they would occupy a building on Franklin St. that has been vacant for at least a decade. This building, known as the “Chrysler Building”, is used by its renter as a tax write off and left abandoned.

I happened to be grabbing dinner when I saw cops block off the street. I knew they were probably raiding this site so I headed down to see what was going on. I only had a cell phone with me so that is all I was able to shoot with. The Police raided with assault rifles drawn (which was clearly overkill). I didn’t capture the initial breach, but that apparently came with officers in a white unmarked vehicle. I am not sure if I agree with this group of protester’s tactics in taking the building, but the response was too much. They held it since yesterday prior to the raid which came in the 5pm hour.

Related articles

• On the Chapel Hill raid (occupyblogosphere.wordpress.com)

Demonostrating how special Bruce Martin Whealton is…

A thousand fair suitors all stab at your heart
Those poets of movement and jockeys of art
The high-volume vendors who hustle romance
Splashing their canvas with color and dance

The blasters of trumpets, gold banners unfurled
They offer lush gardens in glistening worlds
Yes, bearers of torches and carvers of stone
Who whisper their sonnets and surrender their thrones

And there in your doorway, no shadow is cast
No lingering voices, no ghosts from the past
Just a cluster of walls, and a window of pain
Collecting the heartache like droplets of rain

Still I stand before you, with palms to the sky
No gold in my pocket, no thorn in my side
And all I can offer, where words have no place
Is a body that trembles, and this love that awaits