By Mal de Lamer
Months ago, when Egyptians took their squares
And everywhere the flags rose up in red,
You gathered in the streets, silly and sick,
Foaming at the mouth until your voice was hoarse,
In time the feeling turned bittersweet,
Reality mellowing the taste of anticipation.
Subsequently, the workers occupied Wisconsin.
Teachers and students rallied in the squares.
Trespassing and sitting-in proved sweet
When Walker’s face shone red;
Embarrassed, but not deterred, a dark horse
Neighing at the command of the Koch brothers’ stick.
Tents rose up to shine light on the system.
You carried a sign that incited revolution
Took blows and bites from each deputized horse
Worldwide, from Auckland to Zucotti Squares.
Every news station and newspaper read
Lines from the struggle . . . and it sounded sweet.
Victory, in the first bite, may be sweet.
Eventually thirsting for it makes you sick,
Craving for the final victory is the red
Apple that every serious protester must shun,
Looking for answers in the defeat of the squares,
Lusting for revenge in the wide gummy smile of the police horse.
Organizing a parade, as you say, may be the old Hobby Horse.
Unless, my friend, we consider: it may be sweet
To rejoin and rejoice in defense of Haymarket Square,
So long ago taken for the right to get sick,
Idle time, to go on holiday or vacation,
Celebrate, rest, or to “paint the town red.”
Kindling for our fire grows red
Only when our voices have grown hoarse
Reaching out to those who still shun
Striking in favor of any sweet
Tidbit; we know desperation keeps them sick.
Regardless, we must call them to the squares.
In the squares, it will be read,
“Keep fighting the sickness of the system.” The voices
En la luche, con dulzura cantando tu cancion.