A poem by Peter White

I wrote this some years ago but it’s still relevant!”

 

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WHY I OCCUPY

Why I occupy
Let me tell you why
I am moved to really try
By a love force I cannot deny!

Every day I’m glad to be here
To see all the beauty and cheer
Unfortunately I can also see clear
And know that the End Game is near.

The Occupy movement gives me hope
That We the People will stop being a dope!
Humane change is possible if we cope
With politicians who are as slippery as soap.

The two Parties are a corrupt duopoly
They help the rich control their plutocracy
We cannot have a democracy
If more people are into a jockocracy!

The rich get richer and the poor get poorer
They get higher and mightier as we go lower.
Most elected Democrats and Republicans cower
To the ruling elite who have economic power.

We can teach the world to sing
In imperfect but loving harmony
With peace on earth being our symphony
Helping our neighbors in our community.

We each have a role to play
We have the freedom to have our say
We can live in the light and lead the way
To occupy our government and overcome some day!

Peter White is a long time activist in NH and a member of NH Independent Voters.

 

***

National Poetry Month 

At Politics for the People Continues

Do you have a favorite political poem that you would like to share? Is there an original poem you’ve written?  Please email me at cathy.stewart5@gmail.com with your suggestions for consideration.

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Neruda

Neruda was born in Chile in 1904 and died in 1973.  He became politicized during the Spanish Civil War and continued to be active in the revolutionary movement in Chile and elsewhere in Latin America.  He was close to progressive leaders in Brazil and Chile and read his poetry before audiences in the tens of thousands.  He was hospitalized with cancer shortly after the military coup that overthrew the socialist Allende regime in Chile and died shortly thereafter.

Cathy Stewart introduced me to Neruda and through him I came to appreciate Cathy’s love of physical objects – paper, tea cups, toys, pens, arts and crafts, photographs.  This poem expresses Neruda’s love for the workers, ordinary and extraordinary, who produce them.

–Harry Kresky

 

Pablo Neruda

 

Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu

Arise to birth with me, my brother.

Give me your hand out of the depths

sown by your sorrows.

You will not return from these stone fastnesses.

You will not emerge from subterranean time.

Your rasping voice will not come back,

nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.

Look at me from the depths of the earth,

tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,

groom of totemic guanacos,

mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,

iceman of Andean tears,

jeweler with crushed fingers,

farmer anxious among his seedlings,

potter wasted among his clays–

bring to the cup of this new life

your ancient buried sorrows.

Show me your blood and your furrow;

say to me: here I was scourged

because a gem was dull or because the earth

failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.

Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,

the wood they used to crucify your body.

Strike the old flints

to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips

glued to your wounds throughout the centuries

and light the axes gleaming with your blood.

I come to speak for your dead mouths.

Throughout the earth

let dead lips congregate,

out of the depths spin this long night to me

as if I rode at anchor here with you.

And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,

and link by link, and step by step;

sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,

thrust them into my breast, into my hands,

like a torrent of sunbursts,

an Amazon of buried jaguars,

and leave me cry: hours, days and years,

blind ages, stellar centuries.

And give me silence, give me water, hope.

Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.

Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.

Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.

Speak through my speech, and through my blood.

Pablo Neruda

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