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Protest poetry; volume: into CONSIDERATION... Chapter-II-: Leonard PELTIER&Mahmoud DARWISH etc. *** silence ** Silence, they say, is the voice of complicity But silence is impossible Silence screams Silence is a message just as doing nothing is an act Let who you are ring out and resonate in every word and every deed Yes, become who you are There's no sidestepping your own being or your own responsibility What you do is who you are You are your own comeuppance You become your own message You are the message In the Spirit of Crazy Horse ** Leonard PELTIER, from the book; My life is my sun dance. (Leonard PELTIER imprisoned poet, since 28 years... without any legal reason ever accuse...) ___________________________________________________________________________ identity card (Bitaqat Haweeya) ** RECORD!! I am an Arab and my identity card is number fifty thousand I have eight children and the nineth is coming in midsummer Will you be angry? Record! I am an Arab employed with fellow workers at a quarry I have eight children to get them bread garments and books from the rocks- I do not supplicate charity at your doors Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber So will you be angry? RECORD!! I am an Arab without a name- without title in a patient country with people enraged My roots- were entrenched before the birth of time and before the opening of the eras before the olive trees, athe pines, and grass My father- descends from the family of the plow not from a privileged class And my grandfather- was a farmer neither well-bred, nor well-born And my house- is like a watchman's hut made of branches and cane This is my status Does it satisfy you? I have a name but no title. RECORD!! I am an Arab The color of my hair-is black The color of my eyes-is brown And my distinctive features: The head-dress hatta wi'gal And the hand is solid like a rock My favorite meal is olive oil and thyme {zatar} ANd my address: A village-isolated and deserted where the streets have no names and the men-work in the fields and quarries THey like socialism Will you be angry? RECORD!!! I am an Arab You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors and the land which I cultivated Along with my children And you left us with those rocks so will the State take them as it has been said? Therefore! Record on the top of the first page: I do not hate man Nor do I encroach But if I become hungry The usurper's flesh will be my food Beware-beware- of my hunger and my anger!! ** Mahmoud DARWISH ___________________________________________________________________________ those who pass between fleeting words (Abiroon Fi Kalamin Abir) ** O those who pass between fleeting words Carry your names, and be gone Rid our time of your hours, and be gone Steal what you will from the blueness of the sea and the sand of memory Take what pictures you will, so that you understand That which you never will: How a stone from our land builds the ceiling of our sky. O those who pass between fleeting words From you the sword -- from us the blood From you steel and fire -- from us our flesh From you yet another tank -- from us stones From you tear gas -- from us rain Above us, as above you, are sky and air So take your share of our blood -- and be gone Go to a dancing party -- and be gone As for us, we have to water the martyrs' flowers As for us, we have to live as we see fit. O those who pass between fleeting words As better dust, go where you wish, but Do not pass between us like flying insects For we have work to do in our land: We have wheat to grow which we water with our bodies' dew We have that which does not please you here: Stones or partridges So take the past, if you wish, to the antiquities market And return the skeleton to the hoopoe, if you wish, On a clay platter We have that which does not please you: we have the future And we have things to do in our land. O those who pass between fleeting words Pile your illusions in a deserted pit, and be gone Return the hand of time to the law of the golden calf Or to the time of the revolver's music! For we have that which does not please you here, so be gone And we have what you lack: a bleeding homeland of a bleeding people A homeland fit for oblivion or memory O those who pass between fleeting words It is time for you to be gone Live wherever you like, but do not live among us It is time for you to be gone Die wherever you like, but do not die among us For we have work to do in our land We have the past here We have the first cry of life We have the present, the present and the future We have this world here, and the hereafter So leave our country Our land, our sea Our wheat, our salt, our wounds Everything, and leave The memories of memory O those who pass between fleeting words! ** Mahmoud DARWISH ___________________________________________________________________________ Jerusalem city of peace "Ya madinat alsalam" Fairuz ** Oh you city of love We pray for you You most graceful among cities Oh you city of pray We pray for you We imagine you everyday How we used to walk there Walk among the old churches And pray together at the temple mount Not a day goes by Without Jerusalem on our mind we pray And in the stable Lays Mary and her son They are both crying Crying for the children For the children that were martyred Oh you murdered peace In the city of peace And in the hearts over the world Love declined And in the stable Lays Mary and her son Their faces shed with tears We pray for them all We will leave the sorrow behind us The anger of the people will rise And I am full of faith From everywhere we will come to free you from everywhere we will free you Even heaven will turn its wrath upon you The hate which you brought Will be washed away from the streets with rocks You cannot close the gate of Jerusalem I am going there to pray! I will swim in river Jordan! I will pray in the temple mount! The land is ours! Jerusalem is ours! In our hearts you live forever! In our hands you will have peace forever! ** Nidal Kersh ___________________________________________ do you remember? ** Do you remember? How you stole my rights and raped my land? Do you remember? How you murdered my mother, father and son? How you stole my home and replaced it with your own? Cant you see the tears that are shed? The tears we shed is because we love our land The land you came and raped Tears to all the ones you killed To all villages you destroyed and claimed they were yours You let the sons of whores in to our promised land And this promise I give you, you son of a whore Nor day, nor night will the people rest They will fight Do you remember? When we let you in to Jerusalem? Do you remember? How you stole our land? We will not forget the hate and sorrow that you brought to us Can not you here the cries? The cries which cry out the hate for you? Fifty years has been, and you might think we will give up Then think again you rapist of our land As long as we live we will stand We will fight you with rocks and bare hands We will never forget the land we had So remember! Our struggle will not stop, nor day nor night With love for our country we will fight ** Nidal Kersh ___________________________________________ I am your child ** I am your child Indira Rai-Choudhury ** Born of blood, of pain, and dust A child born a man Forged by the hands of the unjust -I am your child Tanks and bombs cannot shake me Far more than a man Your soldiers will never break me -I am your child Injustice makes me stronger Stronger every day Blood just increases my hunger -I am your child The song of justice will appease me A song you wont sing In your prison, death just frees me -I am your child With Every mothers tears My thirst increases You have created your worst fears - I am your child A phoenix from the ashes I will rise again Pour the gas, I light the matches- I am your child Never did you understand all my suffering Now the child has become a man - I am your child I am INTIFADA ** Indira Rai-Choudhury, Esq, Attorney at Law: (June 20, 2002) ** 1 KINGS 21:19 (Bible) "Thus saith the LORD, Hast thou killed, and also taken possession? And thou shalt speak unto him, saying, Thus saith the LORD, In the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine." ___________________________________________________________________________ Long lost land London 9 April 1994 ** To tread on a Palestinean street That once was peaceful, once discreet But now you'll see the scurrying feet Of hopless children with nothing to eat. To see them running and risking their lives and one out of four who ever survives. Broken down buildings that once used to stand Sidewalks and gardens that once were garnd. A young mother is carrying her dying child she gives him love that's soothing and kind Little young children trying to cope defenceless, unarmed, they have no hope. Beside the ruins the youngsters play but sooner or later they're frightened away Starvation and poverty are all you can see and to burnt down shacks civilians flee. "Safe as home" people had said now homes hold only the dying and dead. Innocent prisoners are locked away and graveyards are places where loved ones lay. Students studying out on the grass start fleeing away as the soldiers pass after a while they will retreat but their education is never complete. A boy of fifteen picks up a stone and faces an army on his own a pleading child, a poor civilian, the young and the old all killed by the million. But will there be an equal law? Will we see the end of war? Will the rightful owners stand to reown and rule their long lost land? ** Khadijah Al-Zeer ___________________________________________________________________________ a million suns in my blood ** They stripped me of water and oil And the salt of bread The shining sun, the warm sea The taste of knowledge And a loved one who--twenty years ago--went off Whom I wish (if only for an instant) to embrace. They stripped me of everything The threshold of my home The flowerpots on the balcony. They stripped me of everything Except A heart A conscience And a tongue! In their chains, my pride Is fiercer than all arrogant delirium. In my blood a million suns Defy a multitude of cruelties. My love for you You people of boundless tragedy Lets me storm the seven heavens For I am your son... Your offspring In heart Conscience And tongue! Our hands are steady and enduring. The hands of the oppressor However hard Tremble! ** Tawfiq Zeyad ___________________________________________________________________________ A World to win ** A World to Win/ --for my comrades/ When flesh and stone and steel became one/ Our eyes burned with tears and smoke/ Our hearts crushed also/ "Let us heal," we said/ "Let us make war," they said/ These warmakers who starve children,/ poison water, impoverish the sick,/ break unions, silence dissent and/ care only for the cost of human capital--/ missing. "Let US make war," they cry./ An anonymous mother offers two adult sons/ A congressman thanks her, shouts for war,/ and sends his son to college. An ironworker,/ a firefighter, heroes, are paid for their children/ in tin medals. Some demagogues steal from poets/ Security against all threats/ foreign and domestic. WAR/ As if terror began on September 11th, 1973 in Chile/ As if the emperor knows real terror second time 11th what Zionism created in NY/ Before the "war," the death of 500,000 Iraqi/ men and women and CHILDREN,/ for the warmakers, were "acceptable loss of life."/ Who knows terror? Whose terror do we know?/ Today, hate is American unity/ Peace is not an option/ Brotherhood, only if you do not have an Arabic name or face--/ (What is in a face?)--/ for the warmakers/ Remember who these warmakers are?/ They throw us out of work for profit,/ they take back pensions for profit,/ They poison the air for profit,/ They sponsor race hatred for profit,/ They hold woman's womb for profit,/ Remember?/ Now, they demand more flesh, WHY?/ Peace, comrades, is our great struggle/ It is the battle for peace that makes us all comrades/ It will give us a world to win/ It will give us hope tomorrow/ ** M. QUINN- U.S.A. ___________________________________________________________________________ Chile Stadium Lines composed between 12-15 September 1973, just before Jara was murdered by the Pinochet regime. ** There are five thousand of us here in this little part of the city. We are five thousand. I wonder how many we are in all In the cities and in the whole country? Here alone are ten thousand hands which plant seeds and make the factories run. How much humanity exposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain moral pressures, terror and insanity? Six of us were lost as if into starry space. One dead, another beaten as I could never have believed a human being could be beaten. The other four wanted to end their terror - one jumping into nothingness, another beating his head against a wall, but all with the fixed look of death. What horror the face of fascism creates! They carry out their plans with knife-like precision. Nothing matters to them. For them blood equals medals, slaughter is an act of heroism. Oh God, is this the world that you created? For this, your seven days of wonder and work? Within these four walls only a number exists which does not progress. Which slowly will wish more and more for death. But suddenly my conscience awakes and I see this tide with no heartbeat, only the pulse of machines and the military showing their midwives' faces full of sweetness Let Mexico, Cuba and the world cry out against this atrocity! We are ten thousand hands which can produce nothing. How many of us in the whole country? The blood of our companero Presidente will strike with more strength than bombs and machine guns! So will our fist strike again. How hard it is to sing When I sing a song of horror. Horror which I am living Horror which I am dying. To see myself among so much and so many moments of infinity in which silence and screams are the end of my song. What I see I have never seen What I have felt and what I feel will give birth to the moment...... ** Victor JARA ___________________________________________________________________________ In Memory Of The Paris Commune, Born March 18, 1871, and Died In June The Same Year ** What wingéd shape, with waving torch aflame, Wild with winds of March, and streaming hair Above the storm clouds, doth to men declare What message, and a memory doth claim? A star through drifting smoke of praise and blame - The toilers' beacon, still to re-appear With spring-tide hopes new quickening year by year Since bright in Freedom's dawn the COMMUNE came. Maligned, betrayed, short-lived to act and teach, Whose blood lies still upon the hands that slew: E'en now, when Labour knocks upon the gate That shuts on Privilege, He thinks of you, And what men dared and suffered, and their fate Who ruled a City, once, for all and each. ** Walter CRANE ___________________________________________________________________________ Honour To Labour ** He who swings a mighty hammer, He who reaps a field of corn, He who breaks the marshy meadow To provide for wife, for children, He who rows against the current, He who weary at the loom Weaves with wool and tow and flax That his fair-haired young may flourish. Honour that man, praise the worker! Honour every callous hand! Honour every drop of sweat That is shed in mill and foundry! Honour every dripping forehead At the plough. And let that man Who with mind and spirit's labour Hungering ploughs be not forgotten. ** Ferdinand FREILIGRATH ___________________________________________________________________________ There Is Power In A Union ** There is power in a factory, power in the land, power in the hands of a worker But it all amounts to nothing if together we don't stand There is power in a Union Now the lessons of the past were all learned with workers' blood The mistakes of the bosses we must pay for From the cities and the farmlands to trenches full of mud War has always been the bosses' way, sir The Union forever defending our rights Down with the blackleg, all workers unite With our brothers and our sisters from many far off lands There is power in a Union Now I long for the morning that they realise brutality and unjust laws can not defeat us But who'll defend the workers who cannot organise When the bosses send their lackies out to cheat us ? Money speaks for money, the Devil for his own Who comes to speak for the skin and the bone What a comfort to the widow, a light to the child There is power in a Union ** Billy Bragg ___________________________________________________________________________ I Am The Clouds And The SKY ** I am the clouds and the sky I wonder what is unfolding below I hear the cries of children and the screams of women I see a holocaust unfolding before me I want this horror to stop But I am merely the clouds and the sky. I pretend that all is well where I dwell I feel the tempest of pain from sufferers I touch the tormented hearts and souls I worry the hurricane of death will never cease I cry so that my tears may wash away the blood I see But I am merely the clouds and the sky. I understand the hurt and loss of those beneath me I speak soothing words to assuage the injured grass I dream the sun will shine through me and bring hope I try to tornado this hurricane I hope the evil will dissolve in my grasp But I am merely the clouds and the sky. ** Mohammad J. Alam ___________________________________________________________________________ Last Will ** My will is easy to decide,/ For there is nothing to divide./ My kind don't need to fuss and moan --/ "Moss does not cling to a rolling stone."/ My body? Ah, If I could choose,/ I would to ashes it reduce,/ And let the merry breezes blow/ My dust to where some flowers grow./ Perhaps some fading flower then/ Would come to life and bloom again./ This is my last and final will./ Good luck to all of you!../ ** Socialist poet: Joe HILL - This poem, "Last Will", Written in his cell, November 18, 1915, on the eve of his execution- ___________________________________________________________________________ Protest poetry power power_to-the_people@yahoo.com http://www.luuonline.com/messageboards/main?fwfaction=fshowtopic&fwftopic=1006