1. |
To Judge And Juror
02:30
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I have been indicted on the charge of murder, as an accomplice or accessory. Upon this indictment I have been convicted.
Your verdict is nothing but an arbitrary will of this lawless court.
On the evening of May 4, 200 armed men attacked a meeting of peaceable citizens. With what intention? With the intention of murdering them, or as many, as they could.
The preservation- of such an order, is criminal, is murderous
The preservation- of systemic destruction, of women and children in factories
The preservation- of such an order, is criminal, is murderous
The preservation- of the class struggle, of strikes, riots, and bloodshed
If death is the penalty for proclaiming truth, then I will proudly pay the costly price!
-August Spies (from an address to the court, Oct. 7th, 1885)
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2. |
To An End In Sight
03:06
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Arise, wretched of the earth
Arise, convicts of hunger
Reason thunders in its crater
This is the eruption of the end
We are nothing, let us be all
This is the final struggle
Group together, and tomorrow
The Internationale
Will be the human race
Unseen workers, arise, arise
Wretched of the earth, convicts of hunger
If the ravens and vultures
Disappear one of these days
The sun will still shine
-Eugene Pottier (from a translation of "L'Internationale", June 1871)
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3. |
To Canton, Ohio
02:19
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The working class who fight the battles, who make the sacrifices-
The working class who shed their blood and furnish the corpses-
Have never yet had a voice in declaring war or making peace. It is the ruling class that invariably does both.
They alone declare war, they alone make peace.
Yours not to reason why;
Yours but to do and die.
That is their motto, that is their motto,
we object on the part of awakening workers of this nation.
If war is right, if war is right-
let it be declared by the people. You who have your lives, your lives to lose. You certainly, have the right, to decide the momentous issue of war or peace.
-Eugene V. Debs (from his speech in Ohio, June 16, 1918)
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4. |
To Our Living Dead
02:28
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Written in red their protest stands,
For the gods of the World to see;
On the dooming wall their bodiless hands
have blazoned "Upharsin," and flaring brands
Illumine the message: "Seize the lands!
Open the prisons and make men free!"
"Uncurse us the Land!" burn the words of the Dead,
Written-in-red, written-in-red.
Gods of the World! Their mouths are dumb!
Your guns have spoken and they are dust.
But the shrouded Living, whose hearts were numb,
have felt the beat of a wakening drum-
Within them.
Sounding-the Dead men's tongue—
Calling: "Smite off the ancient rust!"
"Uncurse us the Land!" burn the words of the Dead,
Written-in-red, written-in-red
-Voltairine deCleyre (from her last poem, 1911)
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5. |
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If nothing happens- they will electrocute us right after midnight. Here I am- right with you, with love and with open heart, as I was yesterday. Don't cry, Dante- instead be strong, be brave, be able to comfort your mother.
But son, you must remember; to help the weak ones at your side.
The weaker ones, that cry for help, the persecuted and the victims.
They are your friends, friends of yours and mine, they are the comrades that fight, for the conquest of joy, of freedom for all.
But son, you must remember; In the struggle of life you'll find,
you'll find more love. And in the struggle, you’ll be loved also
-Nicola Sacco (from a letter to his son from prison, 1927)
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6. |
To The Day's Work
03:27
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Worthy work carries with it the hope of pleasure in rest,
In our using what it makes, what it makes
All other work but this is worthless;
All other work but this- is slaves' work
Mere toiling to live, that we may live to toil. It is this robbery and waste on the part of the minority which keeps the majority poor. For all our crowded towns and bewildering factories are simply the outcome of the profit system. Capitalistic manufacture, capitalistic land-owning, force men into cities in order to manipulate them in the interests of capital
-William Morris (from a lecture, 1884)
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7. |
To St. Peter's Field
03:59
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From the workhouse and the prison,
Where pale as corpses newly risen,
Women, children, young, and old,
Groan for pain, and weep for cold;
Rise like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number!
Shake your chains to earth, like dew
Which in sleep had fall'n on you:
And if then the tyrants dare,
Let them ride among you there;
Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew;
What they like, that let them do
And these words shall then become
Like Oppression's thundered doom,
Ringing through each heart and brain,
Heard again--again--again.
Rise like lions
Shake your chains
YE ARE MANY-THEY ARE FEW.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley (from “The Masque of Anarchy”, 1819)
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