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Donald Guy Nov 2012
Composed
wandering the Commons, quietly listening
   to the sounds of Childish Gambino

  Confused
Looking for the sixteenth time for
   An escape from the Pru
Sipping a glass of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red
at a corner of WHISKEY'S on Boylston

Stopped in at Ben & Jerry's on Park:
   Bought a cone of  ™
Paid for it with
my Bank of America® VISA® P L A T I N U M   P L U S ®

Checked in on  foursquare and
   read the protest tweets on
my verizonwireless® hTC® ThunderBolt™
with Google:
          @OccupyWallSt
                #NYPD collapses on #Sanctuary and begins arresting clergy and occupiers
                inside. #D17 #Re-Occupy #OWS
                _Retweeted by Occupy Boston
           @HoraceBoothroyd
           @OccupyWallSt Links to sanctuary/clergy violations?

Erst I wandered the sights
and thought of thoughts

Tweeted a picture of the “pro-corporate” march
Pictured Headlines:

Area Cop Arrests Area Man for Obeying Traffic Signal
"Didn't anybody tell him that's not how its done round here?"

Cell of Young Idealists with ties to
Low-Level Terrorist Organization Busted & Detained:
Found Plotting the Grassroots, Digitized, Non-Violent Overthrow of the Status Quo

Op-ed:
City upon a Hill: “Whose city?! Whose hill?!”

#SOPA #NDAA
#OCCUPYBOSTON
~D.B. Guy, 12/17/11
A poem which "properly" involves a bizarre amount of formatting. See http://qaxzar.deviantart.com/art/Another-for-Occupy-Boston-274812177
Walid Abdallah Jun 2018
Forget…?      Not yet.

I was a little kid one day
I knew nothing but how to play
Once we had a big house and a tree
The paradise I used to see
I was playing with other boys
Around the tree with different toys
I always had a dream in my head
To grow up, be bigger than a kid
I always had a wish
Never to know grief or anguish
Did I forget…..?
Never….not yet.

One day I had black hair
Satisfied with my parent's care
I knew nowhere but my parents' embrace
I knew that is our house and our place
I still remember my white kite
Flying over our house before my sight
Going to school with friends of my age
Once I was young … a little page
Once we had a full life of our own
Once we had our sun and moon
Did I forget…..?
Never ……not yet.


Suddenly I grew up a thousand years
With cries, grief and tears
It was the first time to hear about Zionist occupiers
Of our own life, they are defiers
Everything turned upside down one day
My black hair turned into grey
They destroyed our house and tree
Heard lots of desperate cries…Alas, it was me!
And showed up one Zionist
And said to me "Get out, terrorist"
Did I forget…….?
Never….,not yet.


My own parents, they brutally slew
Our house and tree, they fiercely up blew
I had no ability even to weep
As terror into my heart began to creep
Our own life, they have stolen
Our house and tree have fallen
Zionists shouted, "We came to take your land"
Your sky, desert and sand
They said, "Of our own land-get out
With guns' and tanks' shout
Did I forget?
Never, not yet

I began to walk away and run
Under flaming sky and weeping sun
They forced me to desert my land, what a vile!
In my own country, everlasting exile!
All houses, schools and mosques, they demolished
All our friends and relations, they perished
Under my feet I lost my way
In my country, I became astray
My parent slept in eternal peace
They took every comfort and left me no piece
Did I forget?
Never, not yet

I was looking for a place to settle
With no food and water was so little
A while passed and saw some kids like me
They ran away, they did nothing but to flee
We lived together
We were brother to brother
Recalling what happened before our eyes
And our cries reached the skies
Everyone, his story, told
With weather was so cold
Did I forget?
Never, not yet


We promised each other
To defend our country together
We would get back our land
Arm with arm and hand to hand
We are stronger with the power of faith
We have no fear to face
Together we would sweep them out
With our faith, without doubt
The day will come so soon
And get back our sun and moon
Did we forget?
Never, not yet


Pain and torture they invent
With horror and deliberate intent
Every time they **** one of ours
The more we gain powers
One day they will definitely taste the same pain
That's what we keep in heart and brain
They make our streets full of bones
We are much stronger with stones
Keep demolishing houses more and more
We have more stones and they are our weapon and cure
Did we forget?
Never, not yet


As long as there is a drop of sweat
Our country will come back to us as we expect
As long as there is a drop of blood in our vein
Our struggle would never be in vain
We will achieve our own dream
We will cross every sea and stream
To see a green branch of leaves
Only when the last Zionist leaves
Our relations whose lives they sacrifice
In a procession direct to paradise
With prophets and martyrs they live together
An eternal life that would never wither
Did we forget?
Never, not yet

The land is ours and forever will remain
Despite all people, they **** and detain
On the land where Jesus Christ once put his feet
The same land will witness their defeat
Zionists plant sorrow  and envy
God is watching and destiny
We have God's right
With which dawn overcomes long night
Did we forget?
Never, not yet


Al Aqsa weeps and calls
Its lobbies and halls
So many martyrs on its land, no matter
For the pigeon again to come and flutter
Despite all Zionists' crimes, the world turned the deaf ear
Our dream is getting closer, it is very near
For our country we come like water flow
Yearning for our clear sky and blue
We never surrender or agree
To be slaves after being free
Did we forget?
Never, not yet


Our waiting will never be so long
Jerusalem and Al-Aqsa to us they belong
We will get our right back
And put an end to the night so black
We will get our life again
And get our land every mount and plain
Al-Aqsa will open again to pray
And will never be an easy prey
Our kids will never be slaves
With freedom every new born behaves
Did we forget?
Never, never, never, not yet.
A dedication to Palestine and my Palestinian friends
Dr. Walid Abdallah
Trevor Gates Jan 2013
Hello again, and welcome to tonight’s program


A wonderful show it is, for you that is…


A beautiful imbalance of provocative wonders


Simmered together in an elixir of intoxication


The modern day alchemist roams the night for the eyes of sensuality



The midnight occupiers of the everlasting void



A world you understand but can’t comprehend



A life you comprehend but don’t understand



The unsaid pleasures of private fantasy



The untold fantasy of malevolent pleasures





Please come in



Don’t be shy



We’re all here



Waiting for you



Yes this way



Keep walking till you see the door



Yes



This is the door



The door for you



16



Room 16



It’s unlocked



It’s ok



Please



Walk in



This is your door



This is your mind


This is your door to your mind


Room 16





Where were you when you were 16?



Do you remember that one night that changed everything?

That one girl?

That one boy?

Finding yourself….did it happen?



Did you feel misunderstood?

Or

Did you misunderstand others?



I remember only too well.



The stories I faced

The ridicule I endured



“You need to be punished” said the stepfather-person, “But since you think you are old enough to make your own decisions, here’s one for you.  Now it’s either you or your cat.  I can either gut you or gut your cat…decide now, Which of you doesn’t get gutted?”



I look up at my little cat, squeezed underneath his massive arm


I didn’t put it past him that he would hurt me in an unimaginable way


I point to myself, saying that I didn’t want to be gutted.


“Wow.”  The stepfather-person says, “You must not love your own pets.  Some person you’ll turn out to be.”


He tosses the cat to the ground and leaves to his room.


The next day the cat is gone.



What cruel manifestations we are of all our sins


What dark creatures we are, yet we are terrified of the monsters underneath our bed


The monsters in the other room
The monster that sits at your dinner table
The monster that beats your mother
The monster that kicks you into a bookshelf
The monster that strangles you
The monsters


The monsters we all have the potential to become



But do we?



I’d like to think that some of us can become angels instead

Not monster or demons

But some do

In fact

Many of us do

Many of us become the monsters we covet.

What are you?


This has been tonight’s program.  We’d like to thank the academy and all who made this possible:  Quarters, Jimi Hendrix, Ronald Dahl, Marilynn Monroe, Bret Easten Ellis, watches, Eastern Promises, A history of Violence, Daniel Day Lewis, Rebecca Hall, Cocteau Twins, tomatoes, graphic novels, There will be blood,  red gel pens, gold frames and all the little people.

Thank you and please visit us again.
Not really a poem, but a writing exercise I developed.  I treat it as monologue directed to an unknown audience/reader.
topaz oreilly Nov 2012
Stay put Owner occupiers  are now envied
corners of smudged wealth,
suburbian renters isotope
brandish new England
more the continental model.
In derelict public houses
inside weightless Box Rooms
every blade of concrete counts.
I shall play in once Lavender fields
and usher questions.
How many times
do we render our knowledge?
ghost town forms are in submission,
again recession chimes
more than a lack of opportunities,
but who are these  newcomers arriving en masse
to once bespoke areas
with money earned
from former unfashionable abodes ?
Eslam Dabank Apr 2022
Sirens, ballads of anguish are singing, ears are ringing, 
     Our nightingale is shrieking, and children are clinging.
Our Kalyna is red, but wrapped in blood now, not love, 
     From the massacres aeroplanes bring from far above.

My uncle, enters the now upside-down house of his, 
     “Welcome”, with a phoney grin, and wariness he says. 
The house holding memories is now clogged rubble, 
    In the land that shall never greet occupiers or trouble.

His daughter's dreams shattered, for the reverie of filth, 
     It matters not; the nation of his deserves blood spilth, 
We deserve not peace, but the delusions of a hag pass, 
     May he rest in peace, along with the delusion he has.

My mother may never hear the raindrops fall again;
     Missiles seal ears with noise, and the death of men. 
The men, women and children, who will lead us all, 
     Through scorched fields with whispers old and small.

She is a hairdresser, she might braid hair for the fun, 
     But other mothers, braid the hairs of daughters gone, 
They keep them safe under a pillow where they smell, 
     The warmth of days before the dictator's missiles fell.

Red and black are the only colours they pervaded here, 
    They wish for our colours to diminish and spring adhere, 
But beauty routs the devil of ugliness and his conceit;
    Our colours saturate our resistance, painting your defeat.

They shall not sprout in our fields, like poisonous herbs, 
     They "rescue" us, but the gunshots my brother disturbs, 
We did one day exchange our dreams for a pistol facing - 
     Facing the bear who is destruction, within embracing. 

Blood accumulated in heaps on the sleeves of killers, 
    Like a marvel detested in a chapter of stained thrillers.  
But thriller this is not, it is lives of the innocent lost;
    He plays chess in reality, after a coin he has tossed. 
      
Mothers, daughters, sons and fathers are everyday slain, 
     but spring soars today, prevails tomorrow - in Ukraine.
This poem was inspired by a video I recieved from my uncle, who entered his house for the first time after fleeing it to join the Ukrainian army with a fake smile, saying "welcome! Welcome, Oh God!" - the Oh God was a reaction to the rubble and the wreckage he found. His family had to flee to another region as well.
Not utterances of unsolvable contradictions,no

He speaks to me, do you not understand

In incantatory language, intense, so intense

It creates a new heaven and earth

He speaks with magic words

Whose overpowering proof of authenticity

Is in their unawareness of my presence

And would that this be the status of my language

In a world wedded to nothingness this language

Creates a fresh reality that floats free of the body and society

His words are the occupiers of a new

Magical, passionate and transformative speech

That become an absolute singularity in the mind

Where time is stilled in cancellation to a complement

Forms the magical realm of reciprocal imagination
Ahmad Cox  Mar 2012
Occupy
Ahmad Cox Mar 2012
To occupy is to take by force
To forcibly remove someone
To take up space
Claiming your territory
Or even your space
There have been many occupations in history
Most of them where done through force
Most of the people who were being occupied
Never really had a choice
If they wanted to be occupied or not
We as humans have a tendency
Of wanting to occupy
Of wanting to take over
Wanting to convert and destroy
Instead of trying to learn
Learning from each other
Sharing our resources and our ideas
Instead of trying to live in harmony with the land
With the animals
With the sea
With each other
We would rather subjugate and destroy
Until there is nothing left
We must think a lot less like occupiers
Trying to control our space
Trying to control each other
And trying to live in harmony and peace
The Occupier

A wrong type of rabbits have invaded
the woods they are aggressive, intelligent
but lack empathy for those not as them.
The rabbits that lived before were smaller
the blue of colour and happy in their modest burrows
thrown out thrown out by the grey ones that
took their holes or made them inhabitable.
The original rabbits live in the corner of the woods
a place too near the road and are often run over
by cars and tractors.
The intruder rabbits originally came from Europe
but there was an attempt to exterminate them
so they moved south and had become a curse
hateful, murderous and intolerant.
The smaller animals in the forest recent this
but they have the boars on their side so little
can be done, but being psychopathic by nature
they eventually destroy themselves.
The Occupiers

Outside, the only road in my village
a horde of carts pulled by skinny horses full of furniture and children
demanded access.
Our great grandfathers built this house we have
the right of return.
I contemplated giving them the shed but knowing they would
demand a larger part of the house, thought it best to resist
my thought of being kind.
The people outside were of Roman ancestry and had lived
in this area for hundreds of years and had been harassed wherever they went
It was time to take back the village and the right to defend ourselves
I rang the police, fifty officers came and disbursed the crowd
and a guard post erected at the entrance.
I normally have a liberal heart, but in this case, I had no empathy
by those who tried to make me homeless
Burma and Rohingya

1948 thousands of Palestinians were thrown out of their
land suddenly by the new occupiers, was called Israel.
and thousands of them live in camps waiting to return
a dream they refuse to let go off.
Now, the Rohingya people have fled their country Burma,
they have nothing; they want to return to their land
but land mines and gunfire stops them, both instances
are and obscene abuse, a horrid behaviour by
one people to another, but there will be a reaction if you
push hard enough even the modest turn and
fight back, and you better understand this truth.

— The End —