Join us every Monday evening for drinks at the Daily Kos community political poetry club. Drop by and speak your mind in rhyme or blank verse. Poetry is always welcome in the comments. Let’s use language to scream our passion to the world. Bongos, berets and turtle neck sweaters are optional. The keypad is mightier than the sword.
Indigo Kalliope is one year old this week. Please join us as we celebrate the populist power of poetic verse, as it comes in many forms.
We asked a few regular Indigo Kalliope regulars to submit their favorite poems from the past year. A few more will be joining us in the comments this evening. Interestingly enough, the four of us separately chose the same topic; the extraordinarily lopsided economy, and therefore the roots of the Occupy Wall Street movement (with thanks to Tunisia, Egypt and Wisconsin).
Pour youself a glass of wine or a cup of hot coffee, and tilt that wool beret to your best angle. And bring on the poetry!
ulookarmless
Here’s a new one which I think sums up 2011 for me.
Little Man Cries Enough
Farewell 2011
No more
Life is not worth
The price you ask
With your rules
With your prices
With your system
That divides us all
No More
Worship at the feet
Of wealth and power
With your gold
With your jewels
With your guns
That threaten us all
No more
Accept the scraps
From a table overloaded
With your goods
With your greed
With your avarice
That starves us poor
Enough we cry!
Over all the world
From Egypt to Myanmar
To the New York Stock Exchange
We little men and women
Have come to demand
Our just and fair portion
Of the bounty of the Earth
This home we occupy together
© CJ Campbell December 2011
—
rubyr
Our Country Tis’
Failing of love
Withering of patience
Battle cry screaming
Across this nation
We want it like this
It must be like that
Betrayed, disregarded
Enraged with loose facts.
History marches
As it always has
Those with true strife
Wear pride as a badge
Damaged families
Destroyed ragged dreams
Haunt the happiness
Of lives that can’t breathe.
These refuse
To be victims
Do not take defeat
Reach for a new life
React to beauty
Sing through sadness
Dance through pain.
Split one bun for three kids
Stretch food stamps again
Keep structures of family
Deep honor bespoken
Those who see Jesus
Not just on Sunday
Take pride in their country and
Fighting for freedom.
Strong decent people
Who don’t accept whining
Grow hardened from struggle and
Lines that bind them
Unemployment and welfare
The hearts of these people
Are the soul of this land
The backbone, the heartbeat.
They were here at the start
With hard lines to cross
Seeking good lives
Some way to fight loss
In an imperfect country
A wretched nation
Deep respect is owed to
Those savaged by poverty
Whose redeeming grace
Their beautiful dignity.
©Ruby S Jones, January 2011
—
siri
The unity and spirit of community among the diverse swath of protesters is amazing. It’s a balm upon the fear and stress of individual situations that might otherwise lead to isolation. Like a port in the stormy sea of uncertainty currently affecting so many lives, the occupy events are re-energizing and, at least for me, it was a happy and unifying experience.
My Nation, My Tribe
Battered by forces
Unseen
The stress cracks open
wounds in the fabric of a life
once solid, splendid and full
We dreamed a dream of
houses, cars and pretty things
Now dashed into a pile
of bills unpaid
Engulfed in a financial
Freefall
Where is the bottom?
Once we looked upon
the faces of the homeless
pitied their plight and
dropped some change
into their cups
And now recalling
their worn faces
we catch out breaths
Wondering
Will this be me
collecting change in cups
on frozen streets
all hope extinguished?
Rise up
We cannot melt into
the shadows of this nation’s
cities and towns unseen
The titans of finance
who stole our dreams
should see us massed
beneath their windows
and hear our voices
against these forces
tearing at our nation
our lives
our future
They cannot isolate us
in shame and fear
The nation is my tribe
We are the 99%
©2011, SM
—
asterkitty
I posted this one in my first Indigo Kalliope diary last January. It is a protest song born of personal economic trauma. But what is/was personal for me, is now common ground for at least half of the citizenry. This is a national scourge. And we need more protest songs.
Good People Falling
Credentials, connections, degrees and perfection
any excuse called upon to annoint you with rejection
numbered pages tumble loose as the calendar flips over
while bills accrue into mountains from here to October
intelligence, creativity, hard work and ability
dissolve into nothing along with your credibility
it’s all part of a game called ‘opportunity denied’
you can’t get it right, no matter how hard you try
Good people are falling through the cracks every day
wearing coats missing buttons, pockets packed with dismay
clutching bags full of splinters and a wilted bouquet
A complexity tangle of skyrocketing costs
that don’t begin to measure those things that you’ve lost
a license for paperwork with insurance and fees
now cross both your eyes while you dot all the tees
balance that tightrope, cracking eggshells as you walk
your best intentions below are outlined in chalk
tied loose to your tongue slips out this sour song
no matter what you do, it’s going to be wrong
Good people are falling through the cracks every day
they fee you and fine you and they make you pay
with money you don't have and they won't go away
A threadbare safety net down to the bone
with holes full of holes that continue to grow
wearing thrift store clothing, eating leftover soup
gratitude for anything not labeled destitute
in this race to the bottom through the halls of torpidity
and these constant pounding waves of such blunt stupidity
after so many years of this, how could it be so tough
no matter who you are, you are never good enough
Good people are falling through the cracks every day
while banks commit robbery and call it fair play
they’ve got greed on their side and that makes it okay
all is well with the wealthy, see the opulence on display
please ignore the broken dreams on the doorsteps of decay
where good people are falling through the cracks every day
©December 2010, Alexandria Levin