We Will Not Be Moved

For a long time,

the Spanish youth occupied public squares in every city across Spain. They

fought for jobs, civil rights, democracy, and a chance to be 

heard.

I dedicate this poem to my friends and their cause

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The sounds of revolutionary cries outside the window

I can hear as clear as the morning after a storm

 We’re in the thick of it now

Slow boiling, like a pot on the stove

The buzzing of a hundred tongues chanting as one

We Will Not Be Moved No vamos No mudamos

Speaker phones blare the message to the world

Silent firecracker waiting to explode into an idea

A movement is beginning to bubble up

as quickly as the tents we set up for the sit-ins

listen to the sizzle of the sun on our concrete bedrooms

the beads of sweat roll down faces enthralled with a sense of injustice

We Will Not Be Moved

Rings true in the songs, in our laughter, in the words sprawled on the walls

In the secrets whispered in the halls

Did you hear the message, the message, did you hear?

Under one cause we have banded

We’re in the thicket of protest against unemployment

For social liberties, for rights

We thirst for freedoms we were promised

Living in the plaza square,

we have let our labors soak into the ground our bare bodies sleep on in unison

smell the stench of determination

hopefully our hope will change them

let them see that we are here

and we will not be moved.

June 26, 2011  Spain

kidnap

ever been kidnapped
by a poet
if i were a poet
i’d kidnap you

put you in my phrases
and meter you to jones beach
or maybe coney island
or maybe just to my house

lyric you in lilacs
dash you in the rain
alliterate the beach
to complement my see

play the lyre for you
ode you with my love song
anything to win you
wrap you in the red Black green
show you off to mama

yeah if i were
a poet i’d kid
nap you

Nikki Giiovanni

What more…

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I dream a dream

That will never come true

I hope a hope

That is never done

I hear the words of a song

That is never sung

& every day I die a little more

When my victory can’t be won

What more can I do

Question?

The real question is

Propaganda and lies

Mirror cross burning cries

On the executive Black House lawn

I sip surreptitious agenda in the morning breeze

Ponder the message it brings

Celebrate the death of those long dead

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Congratulate the Head of State

?

Nah

State the nature of these endeavors

Distraction of the masses in the form of resurrection

?

Where are the photos of victims still scraping their lives off the side of the road

Vicious tornadoes

Egyptian foes refuse to let go

Japan’s nuclear blow

Forgotten Haitian and New Orleans homes

Chillean earthquakes in

Backlash of civil wars that riddle the sub-Sahara

The truth slips through the back door along with escaped slaves and hope

I’ll dine with all three

And anticipate

Tomorrow’s already written news report

WMD’s

Kisses my cheek with such harmony

That I can’t speak

Cool and explosive

Licking the hair away from my face

As I grip the steering wheel and steer

Deeper into the rhythm

The sound resonates

Vibrates down my column

I cant think

You touch me and my thoughts strap suicide bombs to their chest

You kiss me

And they sit in the middle of brain,

quietly about to detonate