print logo
  • Username:  
    Password:  

Poetry at Occupy Boston

 Spare Change News - USA 21 November 2019

Marc D. Goldfinger is a formerly homeless US street paper vendor who is now housed. He took part in Occupy Boston demonstrations, and decided to capture his experiences in a poem. (805 Words) - By Marc D. Goldfinger

Share

As I walked into the camping area I was impressed at the organization of the occupation.  The people had a logistics tent, a media tent and a staging area where they would hold meetings and entertainment.

It was truly an honor to be part of the entertainment for such a worthy cause.  The crowd of occupiers was polite, good listeners and actually made up of all ages.

After I read this poem an older woman in a wheelchair asked where she could get a copy of it.  I was so impressed with the fact that a woman her age in a wheel chair and on oxygen was there, I was happy to give her my reading copy of the poem that will follow this short piece.

I find it ironic that as I watch the television network news the biggest piece I heard last night was about a tobacco store that had been robbed 4 times, once before the occupation took place and three times since and the sound bite was wondering if it were the occupiers that were robbing the store.  Considering that I hardly saw any smokers in the crowd, I sincerely doubt that.

I encourage everyone who lives in this area to drop in to this gentle peace-loving community.  As you exit the South Station near Dewey Square, the tent community is visible and easy to access.  I walked in; no one challenged my right to be there and everyone I met was friendly.

During the Depression they called the tent cities Hoovervilles.  Maybe the tent cities of the occupiers can be called Bushvilles because George W. Bush sent our economy rocketing into the hole with his corporate support and never-ending wars.

Stop in and occupy for a little while.  After all, YOU are one of the 99 percent.  At Spare Change News, we are 99 per-centers also.

What I wanted to say was

6 billion people counting down

While dead zones grow in the oceans

While people wrap Christmas presents

While people plant car bombs

While children learn to be good citizens

While some parents choose which child dies

While Bob Dylan writes ads for Victoria's Secret

While Madonna adopts a child from Africa

While HIV spreads like an ink stain on a paper towel

While children play video games shooting grey-heads

While bees, hummingbirds, and bat populations decline

While bees, hummingbirds, and bats pollinate plants

While the oceans are fished out by factory ships

While Halloween disappears

While some countries train children to kill

While some countries train children to kill

While some countries train children to kill

While my hair turns grey as I heal

While my refrigerator is humming

While someone is hunting for a scrap of food

While I lay warm in my bed

While my friends die in the shelters

While the president of the United States makes decisions

While the death count in Iraq is still growing

While I remember the same thing happened in Viet Nam

While I sit at my computer to write poetry

While my wife is hard at work

While 56% of state prisoners show symptoms of mental

illness

While we spend so much money to kill

While we spend so little to heal

While I wonder why China's Yellow River turned red

While I notice that so many factories are on river banks

While I go to the bank to get money to buy comic books

While 24% of jail inmates are psychotic

While my motorcycle sits in a shed surrounded by dead leaves

I think about all the plans I had when I was young

They were good plans and I had high hopes

Well I am registered to vote and I do that

I read quite a bit and write a little more

I love my wife and say my prayers

Sometimes I just sit and think

Sometimes I try to sit and not think

Why do we always have money to kill people

Why is there never enough money to feed everyone

As I read this poem there are machines running all over the world

Once upon a time there was a man who became a poet

Words are powerful things

A bullet or a bomb can only explode one time

It's true that many will die

But words can be used over and over

Maybe one day we will stop killing each other

Because of something someone said

I would like to be the person who says the magic words

But if it's you who have the magic words

That will stop all the greed, killing, and cruelty

I hope you say them soon

Words are powerful things

Say them already, say them say them say them

I've got my ear to the ground

And the way the ground is humming

It feels like we're running out of time.

SNS logo
  • Website Design