OWS Poetry Anthology

Poets from around the world have been sending poems to the People’s Library in an effort to create a living/breathing poetry anthology in solidarity with the Occupy Wall St. movement. All poems are accepted into the anthology. The anthology is updated on a weekly basis. If you’d like a poem added to the anthology email stephenjboyer@gmail(dot)com and please include “occupy poetry” in the subject.

All poems are welcome to be added to the anthology. If you would be so kind as to send poems in the following format (size 12, TIMES font):

TITLE (bold)
by, Author (normal)
for JOE JOHN (italics)
SOMEWHERE, FARAWAY (italics)

BODY OF POEM (your unique vision!)

The OWS Poetry Anthology is open to all languages! Every week more and more languages are added to the anthology as more and more poets from around the world are joining in to make this text more nuanced. I’m very sorry, I’m limited to English so please pass this on in other languages if you possess such magickal abilities. No poem will be translated as that creates a heirachy of language. However, if the poet who sends in a poems wishes to include the poem in more than one language, all the versions will be added.

If you’re planning on printing the PDF to place a copy of it in your area, the first sketch page is the cover of the anthology. The wonderful artist Molly Crabapple did the sketch. I write in sharpie marker “OCCUPY WALL ST POETRY ANTHOLOGY” around the figures head and usually include a thought bubble that says, “I Love Poetry” somewhere in the margins… I’d recommend doing something similar and that you laminate it for safe keeping. Laminating a second page and placing it at the back of the anthology adds extra protection. And then three-hole punch the entire document and put rings in it for easy-reading!

Let’s spread these anthologies everywhere!

Keep Occupying!

Here’s the POETRY ANTHOLOGY PDF file!

Wall Street sonata

WE ARE THE NINETY-NINE PERCENT!/ by Firestone Feinberg

WE ARE THE NINETY-NINE PERCENT!/ by Firestone Feinberg

For corporate castles crowned in greed,
There is no way to pay the rent —
Except by robbing those in need;
We are the ninety-nine percent!

In gilded gates that guard the way
To hallowed halls — we’ve made no dent —
Yet funded them our hard-earned pay;
We are the ninety-nine percent!

Wake up! wake up! O woeful world!
And face the force, the fierce intent —
Of they forsake our flag unfurled;
We are the ninety-nine percent!

For tyranny who’s paid the cost?
We live in neither house nor tent —
And who the homeless, tempest-tossed?
We are the ninety-nine percent!

Whose land is this?  Whose times have changed?
Whose power and glory will be spent
To keep the order pre-arranged;
We are the ninety-nine percent!

Tho’ things are seldom what they seem,
Our mission’s clear — our good intent:
We are the world — we have a dream —
We are the ninety-nine percent!

Never Be Still/ by Johnny Spanish

Never Be Still

by Johnny Spanish

In solidarity with everybody out in the streets right now and those who wage the fight in other ways I have recorded a song displaying my feelings and frustrations with this system and this way of life.  I wanted to make an anthemic song with enough mainstream sensibility to catch the ears of those not fully involved in activism.

We're Ready/ A song by Kristen Hartnagel

We're Ready

a song by Kristen Hartnagel

Inspired by and created for the Occupy movement

occupy Wall Street , or the accretion of the pearl

occupy Wall Street , or  
the accretion of the pearl


The accretion of the pearl begins with
a miniscule intrusion
into the body of the animal,
which resists but cannot dislodge it.  
As the point of irritation persists
in the body of the bivalve
a thing of beauty occurs,  a swelling
circle of hard nacre and steady light.  

But first some  small thing has to slip between
the oyster’s mantle  
and its shell,
and it must stay there for a long enough time
to really irritate
the damn oyster.



Jonathan Moore
nyc 10-8-2011

day 23                                                                                                                                                       

apikoyrus@igc.org

A Little Noise/ by N. Generalovich

A Little Noise 

by N. Generalovich 

I always played by the rules

A most reliable tool

I got what’s given in spite of my choice

I feel my effort marooned

I sit in back of the room

And hide my voice

I need to make a little noise

I’m gonna make a little noise

They’re not hearing it at ten

I’m gonna raise it to eleven

Because they can’t ignore what’s underscored with a roar heard by the heavens

They keep you pacified to ward a riot

Until your dreams rely upon their diet

When the curtain blows, get a glimpse of those, who then will say you chose to buy it.

I don’t expect that we’ll be heard

Until we say it as a crowd

They won’t be listening at first

We’re gonna have to say it loud

We can’t expect to have a choice

If we’re afraid to raise our voice

We need to make a little noise… 4x’s

All that I want is to be heard

And all my singing’s not enough

Nobody listens to the words

So I will turn the volume up

You can’t expect to have a choice

If your desire isn’t voiced

We need to make a little noise… (4x’s)

We always played by the rules

Raised as reliable tools

We got what’s given despite our own choice

We’re sacrificed by their laws

We need to rise to the cause, and find our voice…

We need to make a little… we need to make a little…

Noise

We need to make a little noise

A Poem by Joy Leftow

My blog address is http://joyleftowsblog.blogspot.com

I have worked my entire life as a professional licensed social worker - mostly with students at the New York City Dept of Ed and I could never afford my own home. As a single mom, I worked hard to survive. And now things are even worse and people can barely survive. The 99 percent have given me the first hope I've had in years that things may change for the better for future generations. I hope you will publish my bluetry poem, Billie's Consumerism Blues. I actually got to perform this at an open people's stage and Uncle Eddie backed me up on his banjo.

I am hoping to have the opportunity to do more with you - certainly as a poet and artist, but I have many skills and have helped people my entire life. I was helping people before I became a social worker. Back in those days - I knew I had to do something to make a living - so I became a social worker. I attended College grad and undergrad at Columbia under the auspices of the Higher Education Opportunity Program. I was the only white one in the program and out of the dozen of us who entered at the same time, only two of us made it through to graduation. Then I attended social work school.

I have written poetry, stories and articles since my childhood since writing is my true love. Now that I'm retired from the dept of ed, (horrid place to work) after 21 years, I can spend my time as I like.

Below is the second bluetry poem I am submitting to you. I thank you for your time and reading. I attended several meeting of the arts and culture meetings as well.

Welfare’s Still A Bitch

Back in the day I burned loquacious at welfare’s fair hearings
But soon I learned that when you went to your worker you only speak when you’re spoken to Everything will be held against you
And twice more if you’re white
You’ll be accountable for every damn penny you didn’t spend
How dare you go to Columbia University on our money
You’ll see white bitch hoe
Now I’m at the welfare center again
I’m still the only white one there
thank god it’s not for me I wait here
I watch as everyone demands entitlements
They have their appointments they’ll not leave with disappointment
The brothers and sisters and me we see others get special treatment
waiting on names and numbers to be called
Liars they say first come first served but everything seems stalled
I want mine and I want it now - Latinos and Blacks uprising.
The guards are watchful but do nothing
Those who yell loudest – their workers came out and usher them
through glass doors to get what’s theirs
they come back smiling
After that it didn’t quiet down till the room emptied out
After they all got what was coming to them
I wish it had been like that for me
I fought at so many fair hearings
To get my claims accepted back in the day
Each time I recertified they cut my food stamps to zero
If you’re white you get less
if you’re Jewish it’s double less because you know all those jews are rich they don’t come from any Warsaw ghettos and it’s a damn lie any of them were killed in any fucking holocaust

those kikes are Fucking Christ killers is what they are
heard it all my life
A voice inside my head
Each way I turn
Sometimes I forget who I am

And it all comes rushing home like a river overflowing with leaves silt memories
Someone will bring it home to me no matter how long I live

Ladies and Gentlemen: we’ve gone back in time to the 60’s – prejudice crackles like fire in the air.

We need to get our heads turned back to the streets to take back what’s rightfully ours

We need we need we need – medical care money a place to live and survive
So sad - right back at you with the blues tonight

Common Ground by Zipporah Lomax

'Common Ground'
by Zipporah Lomax
 
everything has gone awry
a great divide has grown
between the hands that hoard the pie
and the measly crumbs we're thrown
 
they enjoy their privileged lives
while our homes are foreclosed
they're keeping us in line
with all the wealth that they withhold
 
they profit off our ignorance
expecting us to play the part
of obedient indifference
robots, with shopping carts
 
well-designed to distract
and keep us misinformed
the media's been hijacked
by those who bank offshore
 
they've poisoned our sea and sky
through oil-driven greed
they contaminate our food supply
with their modified seeds
 
they've stolen our autonomy
and our right to choose
they perpetuate inequality
through narrow-minded rules
 
they've made health a business
selling pills to those in need
they benefit from illness
growing rich off our disease
 
we know it won't be long
before they try to buy our souls
before our lives have been withdrawn
exchanged, for fool's gold
 
they've kept us on our knees
believing change would never come
but down on wall street
the revolution's just begun
 
we're waking from our slumber
it's time to stand up strong
take back what they have plundered
we've held our tongues too long
 
we'll shout until our cause is heard the whole world 'round...
they may tie our hands, but our voices cannot be bound...
something's gotta give...the wall has gotta come down...
...we all deserve to live on common ground...