Poetry At Occupy Boston

Following this short piece is a poem I read at Occupy Boston Poetry.

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. Thank you for supporting 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 greyheads
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.

by Marc D. Goldfinger

Marc D. Goldfinger is a formerly homeless vendor who is now housed. He can be reached at junkietroll@yahoo.com Marc also has his books on www.smashwords.net that can be down-loaded for $2.99.

photo by Richard Cambridge

Marc D. Goldfinger is a member of the board of directors of the Homeless Empowerment Project, which publishes Spare Change news. Formerly homeless, he serves as the paper's poetry editor.

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