The poor hate the rich but dream of becoming like them.
aphorism by Andrzej Majewski from Aphorisms
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Dreaming A Dream
Dreaming of a dream
A dream were skies are blue oceans are clear and life scared
Dreaming of dream
were a dream of peace and love rule and hate is a myth
Dreaming of a dream
having food for all, and all not thirst
Dreaming of a dream
Dreaming of a dream
were skin color is just that, us all just one
Dreaming a dream
no pain, war the only true crime
Dreaming a dream
were the rich give, and the poor have a chance
Dreaming a dream
Dreaming a dream
were we can look on a future of happiness'
Dreaming a dream
were the children are the future
Dream a dream
were lives are fullfilled, and getting old is not a bad thing
Dreaming a dream
World wonderess, happy, clean, perfect
Dreaming a dream
poem by Vincent Armone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rich and Poor
In me a sense has felt like each,
One causes others to wonder of strange beliefs,
In a feeding are the poor,
Poor are the opposite of the Rich.
In this side of the valley,
The Rich are better at living,
In opposition to the laughter
Of the Poor.
Poor is not Rich,
And Rich carries no Wealth
Of Heavenly Times.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poor rich
Who is poor rich? Who is rich poor?
A lone duck among swans is poor rich.
A lone swan among ducks is rich poor.
Each circle has either of one in it.
30.05.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I H@tE yOu! !
I hate it when you spoil my day,
I hate you when you walk away.
I hate the way you look at me,
I hate you when you say sorry.
I hate the way you at me stare,
I hate the way you touch my hair.
I hate it when you vanish my pain,
I hate it when you make me smile again.
I hate the way you at me scream,
I hate the way you sit and dream.
I hate the way you shout,
I hate it when you walk out.
I hate the way you look into my eyes,
I hate it when you speak all lies.
I hate the way you look at my face,
I hate you when you don't call at my place.
I hate it when you don't come home,
I hate you when you leave me all alone.
And i hate to break this to you,
But i gotta tell you what is true.
I don't hate you the way i should,
And i don't think i ever could! ! !
poem by Tanvi Damle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Riches
We came onto this earth and we met money!
But we will die one day and leave it all;
Because i have never seen a rich person being buried with his or her money!
Our riches of this world,
The rich are not even buried with their best car! !
So if we are rich today,
Let us use it wisely to help the poor around us;
Because we will all die one day without the riches following us.
The poor will always be around us,
So it is better to gain heaven than hell!
And it is better to love one another than hate,
For we cannot be buried with all our riches!
And it is better to give than to receive.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What women want...
You hate me when I'm happy
You hate me when I'm sad
You hate me when I'm calm
And also when I get mad
You hate me when I'm gloomy
You hate me when I'm joking
You hate the men who smoke
And you hate me for not smoking
You hate me when I'm silent
You hate me when I talk
Even before I speak
You act as if I spoke
You hate the way I drive
You hate the way I walk
You hate me when I'm rich
You hate me when I'm broke
You hate me when I laugh
You'll hate me if I cry
Now you hate that I'm alive
You'll hate me when I die
You hate when I appear
You hate it when I hide
You hate me when I'm near
Yet you want me by your side
You hate me coz I'm thin
And you'd hate me if I'm fat
For you think I'm made of tin
I'm your worthless doormat
You're asking me to change
And even if I do
I know I'll find myself
Still not good enough for you
Well, let me tell you baby
A fact that may seem new
I feel, I breathe, I love
We, men, are humans too
So please try to accept me
And forgive me or forget
Don't try to customize me
What you see is what you get
You're still planning to change me
Even though you know you won't
Deep inside you, you're unable
To achieve what women want
poem by Asser Mattar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(Anti Prejudice Poem) An Opportunity To Become Rich
Someone needs to be rich and someone needs to be poor.
An equal existence would mean it could never be improved upon.
What ever you had, you would have.
Nothing more.
Nothing to be gained.
Always the same.
No dream would ever be accomplished.
No wish would ever come true.
Destiny's askew.
Before we lash out at the rich so easily.
We must realize how they got their.
Was it a inheritance?
Was it built from scratch?
Was it an idea in which one hatched?
Was a gamble in which they finally won?
Was it stolen?
Was it gained by destroying others?
Count the ways to the great accomplishments.
Still theirs as many good as bad.
And to categorize all as the same.
Is a prejudice I just can not approve of.
I'm poor, but I'm glad to have that opportunity to become rich.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gospel For A Very Sad Rich Man (part 2)
and you hear what God says
that you mr. rich man
has to sell all you have and
give all the proceeds to
the poor
and mr. rich man
why are you so sad?
do you hate the church? do you not like God?
are you bound by the strings of your purse?
you still want to be saved?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hate...
I hate,
hate that I can't trust
I hate,
hate that I must lie because they'd rather believe I'm fine.
I hate,
hate who I've been.
I hate,
hate to make decisions.
I hate,
hate that I can't hate those I should.
I hate,
hate my life.
I hate,
hate that I can't die.
I hate,
hate to live in fear and hate.
I hate,
hate my uncertainty.
I hate,
hate the lies people tell me.
I hate,
hate that I believe.
I hate,
hate those that wish their lives were mine.
I hate,
hate all emotion that's mine.
I hate,
hate that I need others.
I hate,
hate my own d*mn incompetence.
I hate,
hate that there's so much to hate.
poem by Dama Tristeza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Damet world
Poor dog
Walking
On the street...
Rich dog
In side
The home
Sounded
Waa...wa...waa...
poor street dog
Also
Sounded...
Dog also
poor or rich...?
The damet world...!
waa waa
waaaa
Rich and poor dogs...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tears of the poor
Tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich.
Shedding of blood
Rich man's headache,
Poor men's justice.
Water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish,
Fire is the only solution
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is lover's desire
Poor men's unbearable pain.
Din is the only right choice
To put forth your demand.
Dew is the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and the king,
Morning is the 1st step
Of that poor men's sufferings.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hate You.
I hate the way you dress
I hate that you are a mess
I hate your eyes
I hate your lies.
I hate it when you talk
I hate the way you walk
I hate your smile
I hate your style.
I hate your arms
I hate your charms
I hate your face
I hate your place.
I hate your hands
I hate your plans
I hate the way you think
I hate it when you drink.
I hate when you call
I hate it all
I hate it that you are true
I hate you when I’m blue.
I hate you when you sleep
I hate you very deep
I hate the way you kiss
I hate to be like this.
I hate your touch
I hate you much
I hate myself more
I hate that’s you I adore.
I hate, I don’t hate you a bit
I hate, I will have to admit
I don’t hate you, Not even small
I don’t hate you at all.
poem by Patricia Perez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are you rich?
Because parents are rich
I am not rich.
Because brothers or sisters
Or in-laws are rich,
Because own children are rich
I am no richer.
Unless I myself am rich
I cannot be rich.
Too late to understand
And hence poor I went.
Agartala
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War in America
In this sad country there will be a bitter war,
Not from foreign peoples who would attack us,
But between our very rich and hopeless poor.
There’ll be death and destruction as the war rages,
While wealthy choke the waning middle class.
As history repeats the tragic Dark Middle Ages.
When the middle class has only bitterness and hate,
Opportunities for peace will then be too late.
When they realize that the rich will never yield,
They’ll take their hopes and causes to the battle field.
The rich will have the best arms that money can buy.
The power of the poor will be in their angry numbers
And their desire to effect changes in their lots or die.
Man can go to the moon, create an internet, cure cancer.
But put rich politicians with no conscience in a room;
They’ll languish and war in America will be the answer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hate You.
I hate you
I'll scream it
I hate you
I'll sing it
I hate you for what you've done
I hate you for what you've become
I hate you, please die
I hate you don't bother to say goodbye
I hate you, If you couldn't tell
I hate you, rot in hell
I hate you
I dream it
I hate you
I mean it
poem by Melecia Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little By Little
Poor man's anger rising.
The ostrich hides his head.
Soon the red blood will be boiling.
And blue blood will be dead.
While we say.
(chorus)
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down
Poor boy sleeps on straw,
The rich boy sleeps in bed.
That fat boy fills his belly,
My poor boys's a dead,
While we say.
(chorus)
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down.
The rich man drives his car past,
The poor man on bare feet.
That rich man do get what he wants
The poor must know defeat,
While we say.
(chorus)
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down.
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A poets dream...
The dream of a poet,
is not to be rich,
but to be able to dream,
a dream that is rich,
i'll never do it for the money,
i'll do it for my soul,
i'll dream up a dream,
in which i am whole,
my pen and my paper,
lets me dream free out loud,
you can see what i say,
but i'll stay on my cloud, ...
poem by Deyanira Yari Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tears of the poor man (alternative version)
The tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich,
Yet the shedding of blood
Is the rich man's headache...
And what of the poor man's justice?
In truth, water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish!
Fire is the only solution!
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is each lover's desire,
Yet the poor man's unbearable pain.
Making a din is the only right choice
To put forth your final demand.
Dew is but the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and their kings,
While morning is but the first step
Of each poor man's sufferings..
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tears Of The Poor Man
The tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich,
Yet the shedding of blood
Is the rich man's headache...
And what of the poor man's justice?
In truth, water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish!
Fire is the only solution!
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is each lover's desire,
Yet the poor man's unbearable pain.
Making a din is the only right choice
To put forth your final demand.
Dew is but the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and their kings,
While morning is but the first step
Of each poor man's sufferings...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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