the+faceless+ones

Essential Question: Who is responsible for making the planet a better place?

This a video produced in British Columbia that aired on MTV. What is the purpose of the video? What is your emotional response after watching the video? Who do the faceless ones appear to be after watching the video? The poem by Jack Whyte is below. Who **are** the faceless ones in the poem? What part of the poem is left out in the video? Why was it left out? Would you still have had the same emotional response if the video included the left out part of the poem? Would the poem have the same kind of impact without the narrator, video and images?

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When the [|Exxon Valdez] spilled her guts Off Alaska's pristine shore She belched black shame, spewing bitter blame For the Faceless to ignore; But the Valdez trull with her single hull Wasn't special or unique -- It was just bad luck that the thing got stuck, To hear the Faceless speak...
 * The Faceless Ones ||  ||   ||
 * **A Reflection....**.

Where oil slicks spread the birds are dead - Their feathers destroyed by tar; The seals are gone; no salmon spawn Where the thick, black globules are; No whales sound there; no hungry bear Will set foot on a black ice floe To hunt for food in a sea of crude That smothers the life below.

When you drive again through the mountain chain That makes B.C. so fair, Look up in awe at the Mackinaw made of trees That the mountains wear; And you might take note that the once-thick coat Is showing wear and tear; [|It still looks fine, but the holes are sign] That the Faceless Ones are there.

When the hills are bare, there'll be no soil there For trees to fasten on; Just plain, raw rock. The bright woodcock Will be vanished; dead and gone. There'll be no life there for the grizzly bear; Neither cougar nor wolf will prowl; No sign of flight through the woods at night Will signal the hunting owl.

There's blood in the ooze from the tankers' screws There's blood in the chain saw's teeth; There's dread in the thread of the steel cat's tread The torn earth screams beneath; There's the breath of death in the pipeline's path And the [|strip mine's open sore]; And the [|pulp mills] sweat a cold, poisoned threat To our children. we can't ignore!

There's [|contaminated salmon] and poisoned fish We've been told are safe to eat, And, if caught outside of the grim [|Red Tide], They say mussels can still taste sweet. A drop in the ocean is just a drop, But its meaning has changed today When one toxic drop has the power to stop A migrating whale, midway!

These are the gifts of the Faceless Ones, The ones who will swear, "Not I!" As they defend to the tasteless end Their plight and their right to ply. They'll swear you threaten their livelihood; That your ignorance is plain; While, all the time, they produce the slime That the papers call Acid Rain.

And they'll tell you that [|Pontius Pilate's] dead; That his days, and his ways, are gone ... Did he wash his hands of the Empire's plans For the cedars of Lebanon? They cut and they squandered the forests there, And they shipped the lumber home, And the desert sands of the Arab lands Are the legacy of [|Rome] ...

We must take aim at the Faceless Ones Though they're always hard to find; They take no blame, but they're all the same, The blind who lead the blind. They sit, in power, in ivory towers And decree how we live our lives; They throw us bones and honing stones But they hold the long, sharp knives.

They'll take no blame for the cancer flames That pour through the ozone holes; They'll hear no tales about dying whales Or ice melting at the Poles; They'll disown [|Bhapal] and the [|Love Canal] And [|Chernobyl's] grim despair; And they'll wash their hands of the blasted lands That lie barren, and bleak, and bare.

We must stand up to the Faceless Ones, The men who control the winds; The winds of power, and the winds of war The fiscal, blizzard winds; The winds that soar and the winds that roar And the winds that destroy the trees; We must make them see that the winds of change Can be stronger than all of these!

But we might just find that the Faceless kind Look a lot like you and me, 'Though they're ill-defined ... there are none so blind As those who will not see ... And so, when the trace of the shadowy face You're straining to see has grown, Don't stand and stare if the features there Are very much like your own,

For we, ourselves, are the Faceless Ones Though we might find that uncouth ... We've grown too fond of the easy life In our hunt for Eternal Youth. We've grown accustomed to reaching out For whatever we want, right now, Never stopping to think that you just can't drink Fresh milk, once you've killed your cow...

So we cut down the forests and foul the air And pour filth in our rivers and streams. Polluting the oceans, we go through the motions Of calling for grandiose schemes To save the [|rain forests] and restore the [|ozone], And put the world back in the pink. But the thing we won't do, is admit that it's true That we'd all better slow down and think || Check out blog post reactions for [|Mrs. Robichaud's Language Arts Class]

[|PLANET GREEN GAME]

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[|Ski for Gree]n

[|Recycle City : Manage a city, start programs to get your city recycling].

[|How many per second]