 There were tanks on the corners in Milwaukee In the spring of 68 There were riots and marches and rallies and strikes And we would graduate We trusted all the reporters As the Tatto-offensive spun We listened to the doors, the end drank beer and window We signed each other's yearbooks On the front steps of the Y Over pictures we'd taken to look our best We would laugh and cry We danced inside the armory Together one last time To the outsider's time won't let me We were in our prime An open little night of the future There were some who would leave forever And some who would stay There were some who would come full circle And some would pass away Though it's been a half a century It seems like yesterday We tore off our gowns Partied into the morning Then walked away We stumbled and marched Though dots on graphics Numbers on charts We would always be a part of And remember the class of 68 Begin, we still had all of our friends We would begin For we were born again We would begin The road that would never end In six years Some guys went to Vietnam We would begin Some girls became a mom We would begin We pumped in 68 My name is Lisa Viejos and on behalf of Meade Public Library and 100,000 Poets for Change I want to welcome you today for this open mic poetry reading. Today this weekend, today and this weekend in cities big and small all over the world, people are getting together just like we are to share poetry and to think about the ways that by coming together and listening to each other we automatically make the world a better place just by listening to each other's voices. And we do this because we believe that by listening to each other we actually can let go of things that we think are our differences and start to find common ground with the people right around us. So today we're in Mexico, we're in India, Ireland, Morocco we're in Tallahassee in Seattle, LA, Chicago and right here in Sheboygan. Close to 500 cities all over the world are doing just what we are coming together to support and promote peace and justice and a sustainable healthy planet. So this year is the first time in my eight years of organizing a Sheboygan event for 100,000 poets that I decided maybe we need a theme this year. Now the theme can be loosely defined but my theme grew out of a wonderful poem that I learned about that you're going to hear today. It's actually the lyrics to a song and the song is called Movimiento and it's by the Uruguayan singer-songwriter Jorge Drexler and there's a refrain in the lyrics where he says I am not from here but you're not either from nowhere at all, from everywhere a little. And something about that really inspired me and made me think wow yes we're all kind of from everywhere and nowhere and everywhere and we need to think about that and so you're going to hear this today and you'll get to hear it in two languages actually and so stay tuned for that. But before we begin I do want to thank Meade Public Library and especially my friend and cohort Jeannie Gartman for hosting us today. I want to thank Josh Lindtauer for the wonderful poster and also want to thank John Dahl for coming and opening up the show with his music. Thanks to WSCS for recording us and thank you all for sharing and listening. I do want to share one poem that actually it's inspired in two parts by our poster that was made which mentioned something about being a good citizen of the world and that kept ringing in my head and then also I use a phrase in here that I must give to my friend Jeannie Estrada. She coined this phrase New Wave and Jeannie's running for the 25th Assembly District so I just want to get that in there and her daughter's going to be sharing a poem today but this poem is called Citizens of the World and it's for Jeannie. We are citizens of the world. Congress is the trees. Their branches represent us to the sky. We are citizens of the earth. We vote for the land. It gives us our food, a safe place to sleep. We are citizens of the sea. We are a new wave upon us rising, the ship of our hearts. All right everybody. Yes, you're welcome. Thank you all for being here and now let's launch off our afternoon of poetry with some music from John Dahl. Give him a hand. The first song inspired by a quote that the Dalai Lama supposedly said to somebody at one point and I think it was kind of around the time when the Chinese were taking over Tibet and he was maybe 15 years old or something and one of his minions just went crazy one day. He was very anxious and said, you know, we got to do something. They're coming. They're taking over the city. They're taking over our country. We have to go. And he apparently looked up from his meditation pose and said trouble might be coming but it's not here yet. So that's kind of the way I've been thinking about these last couple years. So I said... Trouble, to trouble, trouble, I see it from here and we soldiers at my gate Trouble, trouble, I see it from here and we soldiers at my gate I'll find them in order in 2014 with plans to attack while I breathe and it's time to be alright Trouble, I hear its voice drums, guns and thunder Trouble, trouble, I feel the pain in the strain of a broken heart Trouble, trouble, I feel the pain in the strain of a broken heart So I'm going to read the poem Movimiento by Jorge Drexler, the one that inspired Lisa to talk about movement and immigration and immigration and all those things that we as people do. I'm Ale, I'm from Bolivia. So yes, I don't... I'm not from here. I'm going to read it in Spanish. As soon as we got into two feet we started to wander through the savannah following the hand of Byzantium beyond the horizon to new distant lands. The children on the back and the spectators the eyes in alert, all ears engulfing the disconcerting new landscape unknown. We are a kind of journey. We don't have belongings, but equipment. We go with the pollen in the wind. We are alive because we are in movement. We are never quiet. We are transhumants. We are parents, children, grandchildren and grandchildren of immigrants. It's more mine than what I dream than what I touch. I'm not from here, but you too. I'm not from here, but you too. From all sides of the world from all sides a little. Atravizamos desiertos glaciares continentes el mundo entero de extremo extremo empecinados, supervivientes el ojo en el viento y en las corrientes la mano firme en el remo cargamos con nuestras guerras nuestras canciones de cuna nuestro rumbo hecho de versos de migraciones, de ambrunas y así ha sido siempre desde el infinito fuimos la gota de agua viajando en el meteorito cruzamos galaxias, vacío, milenios buscábamos oxígeno y encontramos sueños apenas nos pusimos en dos pies y nos vimos en la sombra de la hoguera escuchamos la voz del desafío siempre miramos el río pensando en la otra ribera somos una especie en viaje no tenemos pertenencias sino equipaje nunca estamos quietos somos transumantes somos padres, hijos, nietos y bisnietos de inmigrantes es más mío lo que sueño que lo que toco y yo no soy de aquí pero tú tampoco yo no soy de aquí pero tú tampoco de ningún lado del todo y de todos lados un poco lo mismo con las canciones los pájaros, los alfabetos si quieres que algo se muera déjalo quieto the form is born of migration and movement so here goes in English motion by Jorge Drexler as soon as we stood on our two feet we began to migrate through the savanna falling the herd of bison beyond the horizon to new lands distant the children on our backs and expectant eyes alert all years smelling the baffling new landscape unknown we're traveling species we don't have belongings we have luggage we travel with the pollen in the wind we're alive because we're in motion we're never still we're transumant we're parents, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren of immigrants my belongings are what I dream more so than what I touch I'm not from here but you're not either not from one place entirely but from everywhere a little we cross deserts, glaciers, continents the entire world from end to end stubborn survivors our eye on the wind and to the currents the hand firm on the oar carrying our wars our lullabies our journey made verse are my otherwise our journey made verse of migrations of famine and that's how it's always been from infinity we were the drop of water on the meteorite we crossed galaxies the void millennia we were looking for oxygen we found dreams as soon as we stood on our two feet and saw ourselves in the shadow of the bonfire we heard the voice of challenge we always look at the river thinking of the other side we're a traveling species we don't have belongings we have luggage we are never still we're transiment we're parents, children grandchildren and great grandchildren grandchildren of immigrants my belongings are what I dream more so than what I touch I'm not from here but you aren't either I'm not from here but you aren't either I'm not from one place entirely from everywhere a little the same for songs for birds for alphabets if you want something to die let it be still thank you I'm going to invite Marilyn Zilke Window to come up to the stage because a year or so ago Marilyn is part of another poetry reading event created a response to this poem and I'd like her to share that with us so can you come on up? yes I'm Marilyn Zilke Window I'm from Chavorgan Falls it was it was such a wonderful song to put more words to my own words my interpretation it's called United in Dream sing sing the song of birds that rested you from slumber from aching feet following animals for food from those tired arms which carried your child in dream state be the dream state praise and fear the mountains you travel glory in the miles of savanna you tread imagine in your mind the birth of crops of sustenance of life ongoing for family we are united in these wishes yours from the south of our earth mine from the northeast from a different sea to cross from a different route to take but with the same mindset the same lyric of hope the immigrant baggage we hoist is heavy our families know that burden we share that journey sing the troubles sing the sickness cry the infant buried at sea then listen again listen to the survivors of the wind and the currents and the wars we are united as genetic travelers on that water droplet on that rock of ages that meteorite we seek the vapor of life oxygen our cattle know the barriers they stretch their noses beyond fences they forever seek the sweet grass always beyond their grasp we could learn from our animals but here is the difference between us we dream for more than sustenance of body we see not grass but a river and dream about the other side we know no barriers we dream for more than we can touch our dream unites us we are the dream thank you Hi, so I'm Emily I'm from Sheboygan and this poem doesn't have a title yet because I'm terrible at naming things show me I want to see I want to understand who you are from where you came tell me your stories from across the seas from below the border storms busy markets filled with shouts and greetings spoken in languages the taste of spices and chocolate tell me the bad the terrible the brought you the desert blown apart with explosions houses crumbling to dust as the light fades the market blasted with gunshots people dropped to the ground with screams and pleas of desperation tell me the hope and sorrow you felt boarding that boat crossing that fence stepping foot in the golden land of opportunity only to be met with hatred and scorn from this land of immigrants the color of your skin equals the worth of your soul to survive you given to the flow your words now taste sour and of coal trade culture for a job home close afraid to be who you are so tell me your stories in whispers and let them be carried away let them seek out the other whispered words until the whispers become a voice become a scream because you who crossed oceans crossed borders crossed cultures you are the best of us you are the bravest of us let me tell you the immigrants the outsiders the refugees all of you othered by america's broken backward self-righteous regime you are the ones who are making america great again hi i'm katelyn becker i was a senior this year and i was born in canoesha and moved up here to shabuigan six years ago the title of this poem is called fools from nowhere at all from everywhere little fools we are fools we want the best but expect the worst we believe others will come along and make everything go smoother we want others to do things for us but complain when we grow tired of their ways we say we are free but there are millions who don't know what that means human trafficking and poverty do not go away innocent until proven guilty you make sure the truth is twisted into lies so you won't be compromised it's all the same we are fools expecting things to get better without any work and yet complain about the work of those who do our country was founded by immigrants and inspire millions about a better life our streets are paved with gold and people are not persecuted in the night our flag stands firm the statue stands tall and we are the fools mixed with them all lots of great words coming out of our youth and everyone so next up is Steven Golden Steven is visiting us from California come on up two years ago I vacationed on Oahu and along with all the other tourists I visited a scenic outlook along the path to that outlook there was a strangely compelling sign that read beware of bees during high wind and that is the title of my poem okay cell phone here I have to have a crutch new new Pali outlook was made for another day gales of fog gust the lot of us unless we fight it we are almost away along the path from limbering barks so many drips damping us down above their crowning thrashes bewitched achieving the cliff huddled by a stone restraint what is there to see nothing the fog so thick it is a blind on our eyes a gag in our throat and then and then the fog begins to lift as if there are ghosts who hold us hostage gift us with a sight of their paradise to drive us mad before they throw us over miss thin to avail to discard it we view the molting mountain sides inhabited hills beyond but nigh an ocean wedded to its sky so high it is a vision re-denied once again the vista goes opaque in the fog intruder whispered by ghosts or do I name myself at our feet as if in another world a rooster in hand strut amist bees their chicks searching for feed lively they lighten the mood perhaps remembering the ghosts desist in charity they grant to each of us a clarity one sees the honey of a prize is simply this a circle along a golden shore which curves and curves until it is a circle and complete another wants to carve a magical rune into a candle then sit and smell the melting beeswax sent the night and I to what do I aspire witness I see the generations a hexagonal vessel for stories histories which form an island hive Hawaii who will guard this legacy of kings Queen Lily Uokalani sang the answer brother sister traveler become an oracle divine the queen's soul depart but sing aloha oi to honor its composer heed the sign beware of bees be fierce I'm Sylvia Kavanaugh I'm a teacher at North High School why do we have to have a seating chart because structure breeds creation because this city is segregated because you don't live near her because she goes to her synagogue once a week because you don't speak her language because poverty speaks its own language because this might be your last chance because she smiles when she's nervous because she can draw because she is organized because she may organize you because you thought gypsy swing violin because notes fly free because notes on a page because we came from somewhere else we were down and out because hip hop came from the South Bronx because we dream because we rise up because we sit down because we take a knee because we pledge together we pledge one nation and this poem is called hummus and hot dogs when he crosses the bridge better still meet him in the middle where the common ground of your footsteps will lead both of you to new land where no one is foreign and home has many rooms in the kitchen corner the dictionary scratches out alien illegal stranger the stove cooks up hummus and hot dogs brought worst on Thursdays I'm Edward Steen, I'm from Milwaukee and I am the East Region representative of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets so if any of you are interested in joining a welcoming organization to you know share your poetry with I have some brochures and I'm sitting right over there the oldest of my four grandchildren was born in Santiago, Chile ten years ago citizen of the world born in Argentina welcome citizen of Chile born into the land of Allende open your virgin eyes wide to view the land that inspired Gabriela Mistral and Pablo Neruda and be inspired to do great things welcome American citizen new American open your ears and listen to the poetry of Walt Whitman here what America should be could be born into the land of Pinochet open your eager mind to learn the history of your two countries and how they are connected to learn the bloody history of the continents that are united in your blood welcome citizen of the world human being born in the new world into the infancy of the next new world open your young heart and feel the love of your mother and your father look them over closely and see that flags and borders can be meaningless carry their love inside of you and their mixed blood and inspire others like your arrival inspires your family oh the great things you'll see in your lifetime hello I'm Tad I live in port Washington but it's on the same lake as here the 2019 Wisconsin poets calendar also had a theme of Wisconsin people celebrating people from everywhere so I wrote a poem for that and here it is and it comes from an experience I had early in my career teaching at farnsworth for a little bit new arrivals 1980 face each other I am 23 they 13 eyes are language I arrive by college and car they come from the war tigers green jungle mountains rivers tearing families still crying I point and say door clock chair desk my name eyes of wonder my Lee Kong tie draw pictures for me November we talk they teach me New York as an invitation hand me a whole warm egg welcome to the new year I'm Georgia Ressmeyer from Sheboygan and my poem is called The Voyage one maple leaves snap like sails unfurling in a crowd of gusts earth and all her inhabitants her elements is about to set sail as sunsets smolders through treetop masts I realize I've been pressed into service there's no turning back farewell my predictable landlubber life you've been a soothing illusion for decades two before long we're be calmed the absence of wind and rain shuts us in with noxious odors toxic fumes infiltrate our lungs many gasp for breath this is nothing like the home of my youth we travel together on a ship so vast its lower decks can never be plumbed there's no end of misery here three consciousness of owning a steak in conserving resources came too late for most who blocked all awareness that the ship's stores could run out now we realize we should have cut our rations in half ages ago then halved them again and again four our captain hungers for melee feeds on danger and drama sometimes on frigate earth we run out the big guns practice firing at targets I've decided to sit this skirmish out conceal myself below decks conspire with others to expose and eradicate tyranny all its guises its falsehoods in fact for the good of frigate earth I'm decidedly mutinous five bravado aside I believe the scientists who predict this voyage will end badly that our captain officers wealthy passengers will abandon frigate earth like rats relocate to another planet before most of us figure out we're sinking earth has been a beautiful experiment doomed from the start the behavior of humans our greed short-sightedness violence we command the planet and behave as if we want to destroy it our current leaders take full advantage exploiting dispoiling not giving back six suddenly a ferocious gust heaves frigate earth through turbulent swells exhilaration turns to terror that the winds escalating tantrum will shred our vessel and everything in it we cling to the splinters of youthful delusions we strain to believe the captain's deceptions seven I wish I could report that frigate earth weathers the storm without significant damage but she does not the main mast is broken in half stay craft walked the plank democracy is on the rocks it's up to us to free and repair the ship before it breaks apart fight for the continued existence of earth we're all in the same boat we depend on one another for survival so I just recently had my DNA tested which is super cool because I had no idea I'm adopted no idea what my background was up until now I'm going to be 15 next year so I have four kids all of which had no idea what their background of their DNA was so I was kind of thinking about that and I thought that was interesting how that came into play their mother is Native American 50% Native American then she's part English British and I am 40% African American through the Bahamas 40% Irish and 20% British so it's interesting these are my thoughts after thinking about that cross copulation coupled with migration creates a diverse nation which everyone should have a place in yet based on the color of your face skin that's just still not always the case see based on our sparring society there should be a war that rages inside of me as I was born with more than one race that resides in me and not one of them can be erased yes from all over the world my ancestors came the Irish, the African, the Brits the Bahamians through hardship and challenge some of which still remain to be rid of yet still get replayed they remain bearing witness right here in my mixed DNA that even though the road to our freedom still needs to be paved we have grown and evolved and have come a long way and when you think of it all at the end of the day we are all very much the same I'm Bobby Lovell I live in Depeere but I grew up here I have two kids one of which is an immigrant and the poem I brought is called lullaby for troubled times forget this world it's disrepair forget the poison land and air forget the stranded polar bear sleep baby sleep forget how sea will overflow forget the bleaching reef below forget the giant garbage flow sleep baby sleep forget the hunger greed can't quell forget the dizzy carousel of toys and games they try to sell sleep baby sleep forget the sick of heart and head forget the guns they love instead forget the hate that hate has bred sleep baby sleep forget the insults you will hear forget the need to persevere forget that they don't want you here sleep baby sleep forget the left forget the right forget the laws they will rewrite while many suffer out of spite sleep baby sleep forget the wars you didn't choose forget the children they abuse forget the life you stand to lose sleep baby sleep forget the bombs that might be dropped each power play they try to talk forget the end that can't be stopped sleep baby sleep sleep with progress science too diplomacy the golden rule dream of all the good you do sleep baby sleep I'm Visible Martinez I'm from Manitowoc, Wisconsin I'm 13 years old and my poem is called immigrants I I miss my dad I I miss my dad Mexico's too far away I'm misunderstood I I will never stop fighting G got milk not without immigrants our refugees are welcome here A anti-racism N not seeing you in seven years T trying hard to get you back I'm Jim I'm a local Sylvia I'm a teacher at North High and she actually told me to bring this so of course I did what we tell our students to just listen and do it so it's a part of the dawn picture yourself as a part of the dawn gazing at them as the morning comes with your eyes look out there and tell yourself to go on science helps explain the phenomenon and time in space so we all visualize picture yourself as a part of the dawn men and women all walk across the lawn up to the houses to say their goodbyes look out there and tell yourself to go on tomorrow many of them will be gone exploring the frontiers among the skies picture yourself as a part of the dawn because of those travelers rolling on you dream of your space race when your ship flies look out there and tell yourself to go on durable boots and clothes made of nylon stand on the mountain and look at the skies picture yourself as a part of the dawn look out there and tell yourself to go on I have three daughters two live in Wisconsin and one lives in Brooklyn New York and so we're able my husband and I are able to go out to Brooklyn on occasion and this poem came from one of those trips um persimmons persimmons there they are on 4th avenue in Brooklyn New York at 85th street outside a bodega heaped in huge numbers in cardboard boxes ripe ready they share space with cantaloupes two for two dollars and avocados four for a buck they're ripe too need to be sold today persimmons we don't have them at home in Sheboygan Falls Wisconsin until Christmas time then they're a dollar 59 a piece persimmon bread is to be relished it's a different ethnic taste than German or Dutch as is most of the population here in my neighborhood in Wisconsin in Brooklyn you can switch from one ethnicity to another daily you can ask and learn cook and savor glory in the wonders of world offerings for a few coins in exchange for knowledge you can take home fruits and veggies from a corner of the earth you didn't know mostly you can take home an interchange a human link a dialogue to be repeated another day in passing corners on sidewalks value sometimes is not to be judged monetarily value sometimes comes with a smile and a promise of friendship and returning before I read my second poem Ted reminded me of another announcement that I forgot to make before one of the things we do every year in the east region is we have a reading oh it's calendar and it's in the fall and in Milwaukee and so on November 17th the Saturday at 2 o'clock in the afternoon at the Milwaukee Central Library if you have never been to the central branch of the Milwaukee Library it's a beautiful building just to go there to see that is worth the trip but there's a reading from the calendar so everyone is invited we'll have calendars for sale and if you can't make it and you want a calendar talk to Lisa or talk to Sylvia and they'll let me know and I'll get one to you the name of the day is 100,000 poets for change and one of the things that needs to be changed in the world besides immigration policy is gender inequality and I write a lot of poems about the news reading a headline in May so the title of this poem is a headline from The Guardian the headline is 8 out of 10 women have felt unable to cope in the past year so I'm wondering who are the other two what's their secret I'd like to learn some of their coping strategies because frankly I'm not coping too well myself do they live on a deserted island do they invest in one of those sensory deprivation flotation boots and never come out did one of them shoot Harvey Weinstein set fire to a Trump tower was there any alcohol involved if there was alcohol involved I'd like to hear about it this one does have a name because I wrote it a while ago so I had time to think about it it's called what we make blood runs red like a river trickling into the ground to feed the impartial hate that has grown for an eternity until the earth turns against itself drifting in dusty waves of a mirage while cities are drowned by heat and haze and sun that shines too bright for the dark deeds done as souls turn against each other blinded by ambition disguised as beliefs these genocides being done in the name of a man who preached only love an argument born of God sounds like the devil's work but he just laughs as we tear ourselves apart ignorance needs no help to spread being born of irrational intolerance causing women to fear for their lives simply for the grand crime of existing the people led to freedom prisoners of their own people small minds and taste for innocent lives what madness was this born of souls trying to take a birthright that was never theirs that was there only for the ones they kill dark metal shines bright hot in the sun surrounded by screams of the dying and flames of unrightful revenge this is the legacy we leave behind when Jesus absolved us of sin he expected some of us to be good enough to make it to heaven so my second poem is called change and it's just how we need to change as a society when I think about change I have to stop and think it takes time to arrange on my thoughts to clink I wish the world would rearrange itself to interlink farmers created a grange so they did not have to have a dink the world is about to disarrange people getting a hoodwink it's becoming a time to strange and that is a kink we want the world to rearrange it's my generation to rethink but all the derange stuff it's time for us to uplink I think when we're younger we think older people don't know what they're doing but now that I'm older they know what they're doing this is called grown wild I've let my hair grow wild in some rebellion against the scars confining me I comb it sometimes but it doesn't last it strays in childlike fascination branching out its own adventures static flight feeling like a hover of insects around my head and I don't have to be careful of scars confining me incisions attempts to reengage separate fields of skin requiring me to turn this way or that lay flat breathe so I let my hair grow wild like a field breathing all the time like a forest of possibilities rebellion against the order of aging I'm going to read one last poem and I just want to thank everyone for coming, for sharing for sticking to the theme that was awesome all of you and for listening and just, you know keep reading poetry keep sharing poetry I do really believe that poetry can change the world it might take a while but we're working on it and I'm going to share a poem that it's a form called a Villanelle and I only mention that because you'll hear a lot of repetition and rhyming in this poem it's kind of an old traditional style and it starts with a sentence I read in a book called Learning to Walk in the Dark by kind of a contemporary theologian named Barbara Brown Taylor and her sentence inspired me was I and everything I love have come from the furnace of the stars so this is called we come from the furnace of the stars we come from the furnace of the stars and in their blazing light we gleam together all this world is ours our lives rain down as showers and all the waters and all the streams flow from the furnace of the stars all this love that ever flowers tied each to each on threaded seam together all this world is ours in every color every hour every place where dreamers dream together I'm sorry every place where dreamers dream we come from the furnace of the stars raise up as truth to power and do not fear its grimy gleam together all this world is ours with voices raised we tower we care, we share we be, we seem together all this world is ours for we are from the furnace of the stars thank you