Occupy Wall Street ‘and you may contribute a verse’…

November 24, 2011 § Leave a comment

As Whitman said.. ‘and you may contribute a verse’…

We donated ‘Thirst’ from Full Blood to the Occupy Wall Street Poetry Anthology just as their library was being destroyed. It seems that the ‘powers who like to imagine themselves ‘to be’ don’t want people sharing stories, literature and information. I love that poetry has always been dissident material and found at the root of change.

OWS Library have been creating a weekly poetry anthology from poetry written by Occupiers and those like myself who they represent. Though my take on the whole thing is that we should simply begin learn how to turn our backs on the so called 1% by being bold and creating better ways. We must learn from their failures and try to do better ourselves; not just keep on with the same old thing – we got it wrong, now let us be human, loving, have conflict but no killing and take a step. If we were to stop begging for crumbs at their tables, they would soon come running, and it would be too late for them. Anyway I digress

– All are free to contribute to the anthology, and it is encouraged that you download it and share it around. Please think about sending them some poems, but more importantly keep in your heart how important books and libraries are.

Please also feel free to use Thirst where you will, but please do keep my name attached. I also asked this of OWS, because sometimes it seems that we have little more than our names, our integrity if we choose to live with it, and our words. For me that means my writings. I hope you understand.

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring–What good amid these, O me, O life?

That you are here–that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Walt Whitman


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