Favorite Political Poetry

Discussion in 'Politics & Current Events' started by Mel Brennan, Jan 29, 2003.

  1. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    SELF EVIDENT
    Written by Ani DiFranco, performed by Ani DiFranco here.
     
  2. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Is It For Freedom?
    Words and Music by Sara Thomsen

    Rulers of the nations as you fuss and fight
    Over who owns this or that and who has the right,
    To design, build, sell and store and fire
    All the bombs and guns to defend your holy empire

    There are children hungry, children sick and dying
    There are mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers crying
    They.re only pawns in your play of power and corruption.
    Slowly starve them, your new weapons of mass destruction.

    And prove to me America, that you care
    And prove to me America that you.re aware
    Who.s dying for your freedom in this land
    Who pays the cost for the liberties you demand.

    Is it for freedom or for comfort and convenience?
    Is it to profit for big business we pledge our allegiance?
    Are we prisoners in the land of the brave and bold
    Held by indifference or hearts grown hard and cold?

    And prove to me America, that you care
    And prove to me America that you.re aware
    Who.s dying for your freedom in this land
    Who pays the cost for the liberties you demand.


    Children of the world you have the right
    To sing and dance, run and play,
    let your dreams take flight
    As the innocent die you rulers carry the shame
    And if we stand idly by we share the blame.

    And oh America do we care?
    And on America are we aware?
    Who.s dying for our comfort in this land?
    Who pays the cost for the convenience we demand?

    Children of the world you have the right
    To sing and dance, run and play, let your dreams take flight
     
  3. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Is poetry descrptive of their world simply MISSING from the so-called "right," or simply missing from the lives/interest of those comprising the so-called "right" on this board at this time?

    I mean, I know that the WH poetry forum to be hosted by Laura Bush had to be canceled, the WH felt, after some of the poets indicated that they would stand fast against against the (at that time) upcoming war on Iraq, but come on; where's the poetry that eloquently embraces at least the thinking behind the current state of affairs?

    I'd like to read it / hear it / experience it.
     
  4. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Shut your scuzzy mouth, fat body, and listen up. I am going to give you the straight skinny, because you are the biggest sh!tbird on the planet. Your job is to stand around and stop the bullet that might hit someone of importance. In Viet Nam nice guys do not finish at all and monsters live forever. We are teenaged Quasimodos for the bells of hell and we are as happy as pigs in ******** because killing is our business and business is good.
    The only virtue of the stupid is that they don't live long. The Lord giveth and the M-79 taketh away. If you're lucky, you'll only get killed. There it is.
    Welcome to the world of zero slack.

    We hump through a defoliated rain forest that is too dead even to smell dead. Ancient trees stand stark and black and stripped of leaves. The black trees are hung with limp windblown flowers that are parachutes from illumination shells.

    Later we see trees that are as white as bone, sun-bleached skeletons of the great hardwoods, white trees with black leaves. The trunks and branches of the trees are warped by unnatural cancerous growths that look like human faces and human hands and human fingers growing out of decaying wood.

    In the poisonous fields of the defoliated rain forest we see monsters, freaks, and mutants. We see a water rat with two heads and as big as a dog, birds with extra feet coming out of their backs, Siamese-twin bullfrogs joined at the stomach. The bullfrogs scurry for cover with clumsy and desperately frantic movements horrible to see, finally sinking into oozing slime inhabited by shadows that are alive and best never seen by human eyes.

    There are a lot of stories about the Phantom Blooper.

    Below Phu Bai the Phantom Blooper is a black Marine Lieutenant who inspects defensive positions at bridge security compounds. The next night, they get hit.

    North of Hue City the Phantom Blooper is a salt and pepper team of snuffy grunts who guide the Marine patrols into L-shaped ambushes set by the Viet Cong.

    Force Recon claims a probable kill for shooting the Phantom Blooper in the Ashau Valley. The Phantom Blooper was a round-eye, tall and white, with blond hair, wearing black pajamas and a red headband, and armed with a folding-stock AK-47 assault rifle. Recon swears that—and this is no ********—the round-eyed Victor Charlie was the honcho, the leader, of the gook patrol.

    The Phantom Blooper has many names. The White Cong. Super-Charlie. The American VC. Moon Cusser. The Round-Eyed Victor Charlie. White Charlie. Americong. Yankee Avenger.

    But whatever name we use, we all know in our hearts the true identity of the Phantom Blooper. He is the dark spirit of our collective bad consciences made real and dangerous.

    “Go home,” the Phantom Blooper says, every night. And we want to go home, we really do, but we don’t know how.

    “Go home,” the Phantom Blooper says, without mercy, over and over, again and again, punctuating his sentences with explosions.


    -Gustav Hasford
     
  5. russ

    russ Member+

    Feb 26, 1999
    Canton,NY
    Club:
    Liverpool FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Well,THERE you are!!!!

    I was getting worried... :)

    how are things?
     
  6. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    I Came From A Place I Forgot
    I Woke Up In A Parking Lot
    Far From A Meal & A Cot
    On The Corner
    Where All The Streets Got The Same Name
    Maybe My Brain is On The Brink Of (Insane)
    Pain Between The Papers While Sleepin On The Train
    This The Land Of Milk And Honey
    Know What I’m Sayin
    The Invisible Man Times Three
    Black, Down & Out
    Out Standing On A Corner No Doubt
    Now A Nation Of Homeless
    Sleepin In Bus Stations
    Another Win For The Pilgrims
    Who Said "No More Haitians!"

    As I Proceed
    Someone To Feed Me Is What I Need
    Through Three Blocks Of Dealers
    Tryin To Hit Me Off With Some Weed
    Avenue & Boulevard Hungry As A (M-Fvcka)
    Hope To Get A Ride From A (Trucka)
    Everybody Know I Ain’t No (Sucka)
    Everyone Used To Drop 30 At The (Rucker)

    Away From Crazy Kids In Generation-Wrekked
    Dissin' Pyramids While Praisin' Projects
    Walk Past Old Folks Gettin' No Respect
    Callin' Young Folks A Bunch A No Good Rejects
    And I Walk On...


    Actually, it's not that bad; :) trying to turn in a first draft of my thesis...soon, soon... :)
     
  7. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Amir & Anna

    Amir can't sleep.
    He dives under his bed.
    Anna is afraid of everything.
    Parked cars, moving buses.
    Anna is afraid of toast.
    Their names begin with "A",
    contain the same number of letters.
    They live one mile apart.
    No one has given them
    what they deserve.
    Around both their houses,
    all the Arab and Jewish houses,
    red poppies sleep beneath
    dirt and stones.
    What do they know?
    In March green spokes with fluttering heads
    sprung by the secret spool of time
    rise and rise on every side.


    -- Naomi Shihab Nye
     
  8. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    What you saw was a bunch of trenches
    with arms sticking out, plows mounted
    on tanks combat earth movers
    Defiant Buried Carefully planned
    and rehearsed
    When we went through
    there wasn't anybody left
    Reporters banned
    Not a single American killed
    Bodycount impossible
    For all I know thousands
    said Colonel Moreno
    What you saw was a bunch of buried trenches
    with people's arms and things
    sticking out
    Secretary Cheney made no mention
    Every single American
    was inside the juggernaut
    impervious to small-arms fire
    I know burying people like that sounds pretty
    nasty said Colonel Maggart, But . . .
    His force buried about six hundred and fifty
    in a thinner line of trenches
    People's arms sticking out
    Every American inside The juggernaut
    I'm not going to sacrifice
    the lives of my soldiers Moreno said it's not
    cost-effective
    The tactic was designed to terrorize
    Lieutenant Colonel Hawkins said
    who helped devise it
    Schwartzkopf's staff privately
    estimated fifty to seventy thousand killed
    in the trenches
    Private Joe Queen was awarded a Bronze Star
    for burying trenches with his earthmover
    Inside the juggernaut
    Impervious
    A lot of the guys were scared he said but I enjoyed it
    A bunch of trenches People's arms
    and things sticking out Cost-
    effective.
     
  9. Pierre-Henri

    Pierre-Henri New Member

    Jun 7, 2004
    Strasbourg, France.
    JERICHO


    You are a dreamer of dreams walking a lonely shore
    Dream if you want but remember there are iron laws
    However much you seek to solve this mystery
    No one ignores the iron vice of history
    All those gone before dreamed to escape
    Trying to fly over the palisades

    Standing at the gates
    This is Jericho
    And the walls reach up to the stars
    Outside we were singing psalms
    Such a strange strange place
    For we are the prisoners
    Of the prisoners we have taken

    Sing me the songs of a world that I once knew
    Recall the legends once so proud and true
    My people used to live here not so long ago
    But they fled into the night and I was left alone
    I guard this walls for you and me
    Dream on, sail on, my memory

    Standing at the gates
    This is Jericho
    And the walls reach up to the stars
    Outside we were singing psalms
    Such a strange strange place
    For we are the prisoners
    Of the prisoners we have taken
    And the prophets' dreams are now forsaken

    ----------------------------------------------

    Johnny Clegg, on the album Cruel, Crazy, Beautiful World.
     
  10. Anthony

    Anthony Member+

    Chelsea
    United States
    Aug 20, 1999
    Chicago
    Club:
    DC United
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Barbara Fritchie

    Up from the meadows rich with corn,
    Clear in the cool September morn,

    The clustered spires of Frederick stand
    Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

    Round about them orchards sweep,
    Apple and peach trees fruited deep,

    Fair as the garden of the Lord
    to the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

    On that pleasant morn of the early fall
    When Lee marched over the mountain-wall;

    Over the mountains winding down,
    Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

    Forty flags with their silver stars,
    Forty flags with their crimson bars,

    Flapped in the morning wind; the sun
    Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

    Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
    Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

    Bravest of all in Frederick town,
    She took up the flag the men hauled down;

    In her attic window the staff she set,
    To show that one heart was loyal yet.

    Up the street came the rebel tread,
    Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

    Under his slouched hat left and right
    He glanced; the old flag met his sight.

    "Halt!" the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
    "Fire!" out blazed the rifle-blast.

    It shivered the window, pane and sash;
    It rent the banner with seam and gash.

    Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
    Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.

    She leaned far out on the window-sill,
    And shook it forth with a royal will.

    "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
    But spare your country's flag," she said.


    A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
    Over the face of the leader came;

    The nobler nature within him stirred
    To life at that woman's deed and word;

    "Who touches a hair of yon gray head
    Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.

    All day long through Frederick street
    Sounded the tread of marching feet:

    All day long that free flag tost
    Over the heads of the rebel host.

    Ever its torn folds rose and fell
    On the loyal winds that loved it well;

    And through the hill-gaps sunset light
    shone over it with a warm good-night.

    Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
    and the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

    Honor to her! And let a tear
    Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

    Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
    Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!

    Peace and order and beauty draw
    Round thy symbol of light and law;

    And ever the stars above look down
    On thy stars below in Frederick town!
     
  11. Anthony

    Anthony Member+

    Chelsea
    United States
    Aug 20, 1999
    Chicago
    Club:
    DC United
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    And here is a favorite of mine, from John Kerry's favorite poet, Pablo Neruda:

    To be men! That is the Stalinist law! . . .
    We must learn from Stalin
    his sincere intensity
    his concrete clarity. . . .
    Stalin is the noon,
    the maturity of man and the peoples.
    Stalinists, Let us bear this title with pride. . . .
    Stalinist workers, clerks, women take care of this day!
    The light has not vanished.
    The fire has not disappeared,
    There is only the growth of
    Light, bread, fire and hope
    In Stalin's invincible time! . . .
    In recent years the dove,
    Peace, the wandering persecuted rose,
    Found herself on his shoulders
    And Stalin, the giant,
    Carried her at the heights of his forehead. . . .
    A wave beats against the stones of the shore.
    But Malenkov will continue his work.

    (I am sure it sounds better in Spanish than English. Anyway, I now am fighting the urge to go out and execute a counterrevolutionary kulak Stravkite or something like that )
     
  12. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    THE SHADOW OF PINOCHET

    A leaf could not rustle in the wind
    without him knowing.
    All whispers in the dark
    could be heard by him
    even from far away
    where he collected human ears,
    so they wouldnt hear the whispers anymore
    so he could only hear the leaves rustling in the wind

    He laughed at his country
    saluted poets then served them
    human heads roasted in wine and garlic
    he told them, "Now you can write about that"!

    But the poets did not write about "that"
    because they wanted to keep their hands
    so no words were written
    no whispers were heard
    except by him
    when the leaves rustled in his shadow
    in the wind.


    Randolph Ouimet, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
     
  13. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    No man is an island,
    Entire of itself.
    Each is a piece of the continent,
    A part of the main.
    If a clod be washed away by the sea,
    Europe is the less.
    As well as if a promontory were.
    As well as if a manner of thine own
    Or of thine friend's were.
    Each man's death diminishes me,
    For I am involved in mankind.
    Therefore, send not to know
    For whom the bell tolls,
    It tolls for thee.
     
  14. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
    but leech-like to their fainting country cling,
    till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,
    - a people starved and stabbed in the untilled field.

    -Percy Bysshe Shelley
     
  15. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    The Republican Occupation - Paul Watsky

    Rain since yesterday, its early drops
    new speckles on the mildewed window sill;
    this morning hard spatters against a background
    of creekgush, no respite.
    My more intelligent friends have cancelled
    their newspapers, funnies and all.

    I misheard a cheerful man say, One hell
    freezes over
    ,... in my mind added,
    while another ignites, but he meant merely
    When-without political implications,
    guns yet to steal his butter,
    sons, his lovely gasoline. Or mine.

    What ends the book? Death?
    Birth? A barrage of redundancies?
    For me, a dream vision. We parachute
    into poetry. Below us people are dying.
    A lecture is in progress, Lawrence Britt
    on fascist universals. Let's eavesdrop:

    Bigtime Religion climbs in bed
    with Political Power, while Business scoots
    over on the mattress, bumping Organized Labor
    and Intellectuals into the toilet. The State
    buffers itself by fear-mongering,
    acclimating us to police rule,

    torture. Cliques hijack government,
    rig elections, scream nationalism,
    distribute flags, piss on human rights,
    ferret out scapegoated Enemies,
    exalt the military, institutionalize sexism,
    down gays, demonize abortion.

    Hot stuff! I grow enlightened, omniscient.
    Just like (your god's name here) I perceive
    everything, the future, too, and laugh out loud,
    for it is written I can make you smart.
    Want to know what happens with Iraq?
    Squinch up your eyes. Cogitate. Correct.

    But the real question is when,
    and I will tell you. Not soon.
    Think decades. Quite right,
    you also apprehend profits, bucks
    galore, shitloads! Next: fascismwise
    what do we lack right here at home?

    If you answered, really natty uniforms
    for the ruling class
    , give yourself a hug,
    a gold-plated spangled-banner pin,
    an armored SUV. Relax. The Lord's
    on our side, on everybody's side,
    and Heaven's no democracy. Never was.
     
  16. Sine Pari

    Sine Pari Member

    Oct 10, 2000
    NUNYA, BIZ
    American girls, and American guys
    We'll always stand up and salute
    We'll always recognize
    When we see old glory flying
    There's a lot of men dead
    So we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our head


    My Daddy served in the army
    Where he lost his right eye
    But he flew a flag out in our yard until the day that he died
    He wanted my mother, my brother
    My sister and me
    To grow up and live happy
    In the land of the free


    Now, this nation that I love has fallen under attack
    A mighty sucker punch came flyin in from somewhere in the back
    Soon as we could see clearly
    Through our big black eye
    Man, we lit up your world like the Fourth of July


    Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list
    And the Statue of Liberty started shakin her fist
    And the eagle will fly
    And there's gonna be hell
    When you hear Mother Freedom start ringin her bell
    And it'll feel like the whole wide world is rainin down on you
    Hey, brought to you courtesy
    Of the red, white, and blue.


    Oh, justice will be served and the battle will rage
    This big dog will fight when you rattle his cage
    You'll be sorry that you messed with the U.S. of A.
    Cause, we'll put a boot in your ass
    It's the American way


    Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list
    And the Statue of Liberty started shakin her fist
    And the eagle will fly
    And there's gonna be hell
    When you hear Mother Freedom start ringin her bell
    And it'll feel like the whole wide world is rainin down on you
    Hey, brought to you courtesy
    Of the red, white, and blue.
     
  17. Sine Pari

    Sine Pari Member

    Oct 10, 2000
    NUNYA, BIZ
    "The Taliban Song"

    "I'm just a middle-aged, middle-eastern camel herdin' man
    I got a little, 2 bedroom cave here in North Afghanistan
    Things used to be real nice and they got out of hand when they moved in
    They call themselves the Taliban
    (ooooo yeah the taliban) (taliban baby)

    Now I ain't seen my wife's face since they came here
    They make her wear a scarf over her head that covers her from ear to ear
    She loves the desert and the hot white sand
    But man she's just like me, nah she can't stand
    The Taliban (ooo taliban baby)

    You know someday soon we're both gonna saddle up and it'll be
    Ride Camel Ride
    My old lady she'll be here with me, smilin right by my side
    We should do just fine out around Palestine or maybe Turkmenistan
    We'll bid a fair adieu and flip the finger to the Taliban
    (oh yeah the taliban)

    Now they attacked New York City cause they thought they could win
    Said they would, stand and fight until the very bloody end
    Mr Bush got on the phone with Iraq and Iran and said "Now, you
    sons-of-bitches you better not be doin any business with the taliban"
    (Taliban baby)

    So we prayed to Allah with all of our might
    Until those big U.S. jets came flyin one night
    They dropped little bombs all over their holy land
    And man you should have seen em run like rabbits, they ran
    (the taliban)

    You know someday soon we're both gonna saddle up and it'll be
    Ride Camel Ride
    My old lady she'll be here with me, smilin right by my side
    We should do real fine out around Palestine or maybe Turkmenistan
    We'll bid a fair adieu and flip a couple fingers to the Taliban
    (oh yeah, taliban)
    we'll bid a fair adieu and flip a big boner to The Taliban
     
  18. Norsk Troll

    Norsk Troll Member+

    Sep 7, 2000
    Central NJ
    ITN's Major Points
    a haiku by Yossarian, June 23, 2005

    flag burning is bad
    question not the patriot
    suckle the bush teet
     
  19. Sine Pari

    Sine Pari Member

    Oct 10, 2000
    NUNYA, BIZ

    Oooh haiku

    How trendy !
     
  20. YankBastard

    YankBastard Na Na Na Na NANANANAAA!

    Jun 18, 2005
    Estados Unidos
    Club:
    AS Roma
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Awww shyt fvck c0cksucker,
    that's what people say everyday,
    when they try to believe a motherfvckin' word,
    democrats and republicans say!!

    -Bullworth-
     
  21. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    I
    When my dreams showed signs
    of becoming
    politically correct
    no unruly images
    escaping beyond borders
    when walking in the street I found my
    themes cut out for me
    knew what I would not report
    for fear of enemies' usage
    then I began to wonder

    II
    Everything we write
    will be used against us
    or against those we love.
    These are the terms,
    take them or leave them.
    Poetry never stood a chance
    of standing outside history.
    One line typed twenty years ago
    can be blazed on a wall in spraypaint
    to glorify art as detachment
    or torture of those we
    did not love but also
    did not want to kill

    We move but our words stand
    become responsible
    for more than we intended

    and this is verbal privilege

    III
    Try sitting at a typewriter
    one calm summer evening
    at a table by a window
    in the country, try pretending
    your time does not exist
    that you are simply you
    that the imagination simply strays
    like a great moth, unitentional
    try telling yourself
    you are not accountable
    to the life of your tribe
    the breath of your planet

    IV
    It doesn’t matter what you think.
    Words are found responsible
    all you can do is choose them
    or choose
    to remain silent. Or, you never had a choice,
    which is why the words that do stand
    are responsible
    and this is verbal privilege

    V
    Suppose you want to write
    of a woman braiding
    another woman's hair--
    straight down, or with beads and shells
    in three-strand plaits or corn-rows--
    you had better know the thickness
    the length the pattern
    why she decides to braid her hair
    how it is done to her
    what country it happens in
    what else happens in that country

    You have to know these things

    VI
    Poet, sister: words--
    whether we like it or not--
    stand in a time of their own.
    No use protesting I wrote that
    before Kollontai was exiled
    Rosa Luxembourg, Malcolm,
    Anna Mae Aquash, murdered,
    before Treblinka, Birkenau,
    Hiroshima, before Sharpeville,
    Biafra, Bangla Desh, Boston,
    Atlanta, Soweto, Beirut, Assam
    --those faces, names of places
    sheared from the almanac
    of North American time

    VII
    I am thinking this in a country
    where words are stolen out of mouths
    as bread is stolen out of mouths
    where poets don't go to jail
    for being poets, but for being
    dark-skinned, female, poor.
    I am writing htis in a time
    when anything we write
    can be used against those we love
    where the context is never given
    though we try to explain, over and over
    For the sake of poetry at least
    I need to know these things

    VIII
    Sometimes, gliding at night
    in a plane over New York City
    I have felt like some messenger
    called to enter, called to engage
    this field of light and darkness.
    A grandiose idea, born of flying.
    But underneath the grandiose idea
    is the thought that what I must engage
    after the plane has raged onto the tarmac
    after climbing my old stairs, sitting down at my old window
    is meant to break my heart and reduce me to silence.

    IX
    In North America time stumbles on
    without moving, only releasing
    a certain North American pain.
    Julia de Burgos wrote:
    That my grandfather was a slave
    is my grief; had he been a master
    that would have been my shame.
    A poet's words, hung over a door
    in North America, in the year
    nineteen-eighty-three.
    The almost-full moon rises
    timelessly speaking of change
    out of the Bronx, the Harlem River
    the drowned towns of the Quabbin
    the pilfered burial mounds
    the toxic swamps, the testing-grounds

    and I start to speak again.


    -1983-

    ~ Adrienne Rich, “North American Time” Your Native Land, Your Life. New York: W. W. Norton, 1986.
     
  22. bojendyk

    bojendyk New Member

    Jan 4, 2002
    South Loop, Chicago
    Mel, I love ya, but this is awful poetry. It's an essay broken into lines. Really, there are few poets around who have betrayed their talent as much as Adrienne Rich has.

    Here's a good political poem that I've posted on this board several times in the past:
     
  23. CosmosKramer

    CosmosKramer Member

    Sep 24, 2000
    Yokohama
    Club:
    Yokohama F Marinos
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Unknown Citizen - W.H. Auden

    (To JS/07/M/378/ This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)

    He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
    One against whom there was no official complaint,
    And all the reports on his conduct agree
    That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
    For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
    Except for the War till the day he retired
    He worked in a factory and never got fired
    But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
    Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
    For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
    (Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
    And our Social Psychology workers found
    That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
    The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
    And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
    Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
    And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
    Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
    He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
    And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
    A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
    Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
    That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
    When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war,
    he went.
    He was married and added five children to the population,
    Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent
    of his generation.
    And our teachers report that he never interfered
    with their education.
    Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
    Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
     
  24. CosmosKramer

    CosmosKramer Member

    Sep 24, 2000
    Yokohama
    Club:
    Yokohama F Marinos
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Battle Hymn of the Republic, Brought Down to Date - Mark Twain


    (sung to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic)

    Mine eyes have seen the orgy of the launching of the Sword;
    He is searching out the hoardings where the stranger's
    wealth is stored;
    He hath loosed his fateful lightnings, and with woe and
    death has scored;
    His lust is marching on.

    I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
    They have builded him an altar in the Eastern dews and damps;
    I have read his doomful mission by the dim and flaring lamps--
    His night is marching on.

    have read his bandit gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
    "As ye deal with my pretensions, so with you my wrath shall deal;
    Let the faithless son of Freedom crush the patriot with his heel;
    Lo, Greed is marching on!"

    We have legalized the strumpet and are guarding her retreat;*
    Greed is seeking out commercial souls before his judgement seat;
    O, be swift, ye clods, to answer him! be jubilant my feet!
    Our god is marching on!

    In a sordid slime harmonious Greed was born in yonder ditch,
    With a longing in his bosom--and for others' goods an itch.
    As Christ died to make men holy, let men die to make us rich--
    Our god is marching on.

    * NOTE: In Manila the Government has placed a certain industry under the protection of our flag. (M.T.)
     
  25. Mel Brennan

    Mel Brennan PLANITARCHIS' BANE

    Paris Saint Germain
    United States
    Apr 8, 2002
    Baltimore
    Club:
    Paris Saint Germain FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    Langston Hughes
    Let America Be America Again



    Let America be America again.
    Let it be the dream it used to be.
    Let it be the pioneer on the plain
    Seeking a home where he himself is free.

    (America never was America to me.)

    Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-
    Let it be that great strong land of love
    Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
    That any man be crushed by one above.

    (It never was America to me.)

    O, let my land be a land where Liberty
    Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
    But opportunity is real, and life is free,
    Equality is in the air we breathe.

    (There's never been equality for me,
    Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

    Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
    And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

    I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
    I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
    I am the red man driven from the land,
    I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek-
    And finding only the same old stupid plan
    Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

    I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
    Tangled in that ancient endless chain
    Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
    Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
    Of work the men! Of take the pay!
    Of owning everything for one's own greed!

    I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
    I am the worker sold to the machine.
    I am the Negro, servant to you all.
    I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-
    Hungry yet today despite the dream.
    Beaten yet today-O, Pioneers!
    I am the man who never got ahead,
    The poorest worker bartered through the years.

    Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
    In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
    Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
    That even yet its mighty daring sings
    In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
    That's made America the land it has become.
    O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
    In search of what I meant to be my home-
    For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
    And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
    And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
    To build a "homeland of the free."

    The free?

    Who said the free? Not me?
    Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
    The millions shot down when we strike?
    The millions who have nothing for our pay?
    For all the dreams we've dreamed
    And all the songs we've sung
    And all the hopes we've held
    And all the flags we've hung,
    The millions who have nothing for our pay-
    Except the dream that's almost dead today.

    O, let America be America again-
    The land that never has been yet-
    And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
    The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-
    Who made America,
    Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
    Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
    Must bring back our mighty dream again.

    Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-
    The steel of freedom does not stain.
    From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
    We must take back our land again,
    America!

    O, yes,
    I say it plain,
    America never was America to me,
    And yet I swear this oath-
    America will be!

    Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
    The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
    We, the people, must redeem
    The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
    The mountains and the endless plain-
    All, all the stretch of these great green states-
    And make America again!
     

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